by Joe Corso
A few seconds later, Charlie came out of the back room and bounded down the two steps. He patted Jeremiah affectionately on the shoulder and then shook his hand. “I see that you made it here safely.” He called Robert over. “Robert, this is Jeremiah Simpson, our wagon master. Say hello to my brother Robert, Jeremiah.”
The two men shook hands, then Simpson turned to Charlie. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we didn’t make it here safely.”
This concerned Charlie. “Why what happened? Is everyone all right?”
“Everyone is fine, Charlie. What I’m saying is when I got to the gate, there were six men there who demanded ten dollars from each wagon and two dollars for a man on horseback.”
“Six men eh?”
“Yes, and they looked like a mean bunch.”
“I know. I ran into four of them and I had to shoot it out with them. One of them hit me pretty bad with a 44 slug to the shoulder, but I managed to kill all four of them.” The Kid didn’t say it in a bragging manner, he just told it as it happened.
Jeremiah didn’t question the Kid, but it encouraged him to continue his story. “I don’t know what to do, Charlie. I thought that maybe you might talk to them for us. We’d be willing to pay you and make it worth your while.”
Charlie thought about it for a moment, trying to think of a plan that would work. A germ of a plan came to him that he thought could work, but he’d need a little help. “Tell you what, Jeremiah. I’ll go and have a talk with those fellas, but I’ll need you there as backup.”
Jeremiah wasn’t a coward, but he also wasn’t a gun hand. He had fought Indians on a number of occasions and he was a good man with a rifle. He’d help Charlie, but it would be with a rifle and not a handgun. “I’ll back you up, Charlie, but I’ll do it with a rifle. I’m better with rifle than a hand gun.”
Charlie agreed. “That’s fine, Jeremiah. I only need you there for window dressing because if it comes down to it, I’ll kill at least three of them, but you’d have to buy me a few seconds so I can get the others. If you can plug one or two of them with your Winchester, then we’ll be in good shape. Let’s get started because the sooner we confront those bushwhackers, the sooner we’ll be back.”
“Wait a minute,” Robert said as they were about to walk out the front door. “I’m coming with you.”
Charlie turned to him. “Look, Bobby. You’re a married man and you could get yourself shot.”
Robert raised his voice a decibel. “God damn it, Charlie. I said I was going with you and that’s final. I wrote you in the letter that I needed your help. I didn’t say that you were going to go after these men by yourself. It was always going to be you and me. The two of us will handle these men. And with Jeremiah and the Winchester with us, we just might prevail. Now let’s get going.”
Charlie shook his head, smiling. He and his brother were cut from the same cloth. “Sure, no sense in keeping them waiting. Get your rifle and let’s mount up.”
As they approached the men guarding the gate, Jeremiah cranked the lever to insert a round in the chamber and he held his Winchester upright with the stock resting on his thigh. He was ready; now it was up to Charlie.
Charlie approached the man in charge. “You in charge of this motley crew?”
“Yeah, who’s asking?”
“My name is Charles Longstreet and I’m about to kill half of you right now if you don’t let my friends through that gate.”
The man winced at those words and he turned to look at his friends, more to see their reaction, than for their support. “Are you crazy? We have six men to your three.”
Charles agreed. “You’re right about that, but you see I killed the other four men you left here and I know I can kill four of you without raising a sweat. The other two, my brother and Jeremiah here, will kill. Now you can avoid all the bloodshed by opening that gate - or - are you willing to die by refusing to open it? Which is it to be?”
One of the men noticed the way Charlie wore his guns. “Longstreet? Longstreet? Say, you wouldn’t be that Lone Jack Kid, would you?”
“Yes, that would be me.”
The leader nodded in understanding and turned to one of his men. “Go open the gate.”
“Good call because as sure as I’m the Lone Jack Kid, when the smoke cleared, you would have all have been dead - and that’s no lie.” Charlie was turning it on thick. He wanted these men to think that he was cocksure that he could kill all six of them handily.
Jeremiah led the wagons through the gate and then he led them the ten miles to Virginia City. When the train entered the city, folks gave the members of the wagon train a hero’s welcome for having the courage to defy the tolls that Ted Parker insisted all newcomers pay. No one knew of the Lone Jack Kid’s part in this little saga.
The Kid’s legend was growing and when the town’s residents discovered the Kid was responsible for the wagon train arriving safely in their city, and when word of his exploits turned out to be true, his fame grew even faster and the residents were glad that he was here in Virginia City. But soon another kind of man came to Virginia City, men who were different. A man like Ted Parker wanted wealth at any expense. But these men wanted something other than wealth . . . they wanted a reputation. They wanted to be the man who killed the Lone Jack Kid.
Parker hadn’t bothered Robert recently, but the brothers knew that it was just a matter of time before a confrontation would take place. Parker wouldn’t be happy until he owned all of Virginia City, so to further his plans, he kept track of the gunslingers the Kid was drawing to the city, and he decided to use these men to his advantage. He approached a hard-looking man sipping a drink at the bar and introduced himself. Then he discussed the problem he had with the Kid. Before Parker left, he offered the man two thousand dollars to kill the Kid in a fair fight, which the man accepted. The sheriff had a fondness for the Kid and Parker didn’t want to answer to him for his murder. He had to make sure the Kid was killed in a fair fight. If his man lost, it really didn’t matter because he would make the same offer to other gunfighters who came to Virginia City. He knew it was just a matter of numbers. One of these men would kill the Kid, or the Kid would have a bad day, maybe a hangover that would slow him down for a split second, just enough for his man to kill the Kid. Yes, he thought. Life was good, and soon he would own all of the claims, and all of the businesses, if only the Kid was out of the way. Oh, well. He could wait. The one thing he had was patience. He knew that in time all good things would come to him, maybe even Robert Longstreet’s pretty wife. Yes, maybe that too could be worked out, if both brothers happened to be killed in a fair fight.
Over dinner one evening, Robert and his brother discussed the opportunities available in Virginia City. “You know, Charlie, I staked a few men for half a share in their mines. Parker is buying a lot of the claims from miners either with cash or threats, plus he’s forcing many of the small miners out by cutting off their water supply.”
Charlie pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and turned the cylinder, checking to see if he had a round in each of the six chambers. It was force of habit, but it was a good habit; it kept him alive. “Whenever you feel up to it, we’ll visit your claims and I’ll make sure your miners get the water they need. If you come across a miner who wants to sell his claim, then let’s buy it.”
“I know of two claims I could buy right now, but I’ve run out of cash.”
“Why, hell, Bob. I have a few dollars saved that you’re welcome to use. How much do you need to buy the claims?”
“The claims aren’t producing much right now, Charlie, but they are finding enough gold to feed them and keep them supplied, and according to the assayer’s report, the mines show a lot of promise.”
“I’ll ask you again, Bob, how much money do we need to buy the claims?”
“I think three thousand each should do it.”
“Do you really believe the mines will produce gold?”
“Yes I do. I believe that even if they
didn’t produce a fortune in gold, you would get your money back with a profit. I believe it, or I wouldn’t be wasting my time investing in them.”
“Well, then, let’s buy those two mines.” Charlie unbuttoned his pants and rather clumsily removed his money belt, which got a laugh from his brother. He counted out six thousand dollars and handed it to Bob, who stood there with his mouth open, gaping at the money. “Now go buy those mines for us, brother.”
The two brothers crossed the street and entered the hotel. When the two miners came to town earlier today to convert a few ounces of gold dust into dollars, they rented a room for the night. The desk clerk pointed the brothers to the bar where the miners were busy celebrating with a bottle. Coonskin Harry Beaver and Shotgun George Felton spotted Robert when he walked through the door and he waved him over. Coonskin got his name because of the coonskin hat he was famous for wearing and Shotgun George got his moniker because he rode shotgun for Wells Fargo for many years before having to retire because of a gunshot wound to his leg.
“Come on over here, Robert, and join us in a drink.”
“Boys, this is my brother, Charlie. He’s staying with me. I told him about your mines and he thought it might be a good investment for us. Do you boys still want to sell your mines?”
“Well, I don’t know about Shotgun here, but I’d sell my claim for four thousand dollars. I’ve a hankering to visit my daughter in San Francisco.”
Shotgun looked at Coonskin sideways. “I didn’t know you was married, Coonskin?” Coonskin looked back at Shotgun with a frown on his face. “I never said I was married Shotgun; I said I had a daughter in San Francisco that I wanted to see.” Shotgun nodded sagely. “Now I understand, Coonskin . . . I didn’t at first - until you splained it to me.”
The brothers laughed at the two likable gents. “I have three thousand dollars that I can give each of you, but not four. I’m tapped out, boys; that’s all the money I have.”
Shotgun said, “Let’s have another drink while I consider your proposal.”
“Sounds good to me,” Coonskin said.
Robert nodded. “Looks like we have a deal. How about you, Shotgun?”
“Pour one for me, fellas, ‘cause I’m in.”
Just as Charlie picked up his drink, he heard “Tap - Tap - Tap.”
“What’s that tapping sound?” Coonskin asked.
“Somebody is challenging me,” Charlie said. He looked around the room to find the source of the tapping and he saw a man standing near the front door with his arms folded around his chest, tapping his foot against a metal spittoon.
“You,” he said, pointing to Charlie. “I want the famous Lone Jack Kid out in the street - now. Or are you afraid.”
Charlie put down his drink and walked quickly to the man with long strides, and by the look on the man’s face, he didn’t expect this. With another long stride, Charlie reached the man and, in one swift movement, he jerked the gun from his shoulder holster and hit the man hard on the side of his head with the barrel of the gun, knocking the man clear across the room. He followed him as he staggered back and then while he was still standing, he jabbed the barrel of the gun deep into his gut, doubling him over. Not satisfied with that, he hit him again with his gun on his head, only this time he knocked him unconscious. He turned and said loudly to everyone in the room, “I know someone in this room knows this miserable excuse for a man. I want you to tell him that if he’s not out of town by noon tomorrow, the Lone Jack Kid will kill him.” After saying his piece, Charlie walked back to his friends at the bar.
The room buzzed with talk about what just happened and slowly the patrons migrated to the bar to be close to the Kid and to buy him a drink. Charlie asked the bartender for a bottle of his best whiskey.
Joe brought the bottle and said, “No charge, Kid. I never witnessed anything like that before. This bottle is on the house.”
“Thanks,” was all Charlie said. He motioned to a table toward the back of the room where he had a good view of anyone coming in. “Come on, let’s sit back there. We could have a drink in private away from these vultures and not be bothered by anyone.”
When they were seated, Shotgun reached out and grabbed Charlie’s wrist. “Son, I seen a lot of things in my life, but I never seen such a foolhardy brave act in my life. What if he pulled a gun on you? What would you have done then?”
Charlie looked him straight in the eye. “I’d have killed him if I had to. But I’d rather not kill a man if I don’t have to.”
Coonskin raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his drink. “Is it always like this, son?”
“Yeah. It’s always like this.”
Coonskin tilted his head and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I heard of you. Didn’t believe a word written in that book.” He looked up. “Yeah, I read it. In fact, I have it in the cabin. Thought it was all made up by that Buntline fella just to sell books. But now that I seed you in action, I know the stories are true. I think rather than selling you the mine, I’d like to have you boys as my partners. I’ll sell it to you if you want, but you’re gonna need someone to work the claim, so how about we do this? Give me fifteen hundred dollars and I’ll sign over half of the mine to you with one provision.”
“And what would that be, Coonskin?”
“If I have any trouble with Parker, you’ll talk to him on my behalf. Is that agreeable to you?”
Charlie put out his hand. “It sure is, partner. Pay the man, Bob.”
“Count me in, I’ll take the same deal,” Shotgun added.
Charlie rubbed his hands together. “Okay, now. I hear that you have a water problem, right?”
Both Shotgun and Coonskin nodded. “It is becoming a problem, son. That greedy son of a bitch will do anything to get our mines. He’ll try stealing it, he’ll dry up our water, threaten us. Anything that will cause us to give up and sell to him.”
“When are you fellas heading back to your mines?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t worry about anything. Tomorrow, you’ll have your water.”
As the brothers left the bar, Bob handed Charlie the envelope with $3,000 in it, the balance of his money.
CHAPTER 12
Charlie got an early start and rode out of town before daylight. He knew the ride would take over an hour, he knew what he had to do, and where he had to go. When he was close, he dismounted, held his horse’s reins, and followed the trickle of water upstream until he came to a clearing by the small makeshift dam that Parker’s men had constructed. Two men stepped out of their tent, walked over to the dam, and dipped their coffee pot in the water.
The orange glow on the horizon told the Kid it would be daylight soon, but that didn’t worry him because he was hidden by the deep shadows of the dense forest. The two men sat by the campfire, waiting for the coffee to perk. All was serene in the quiet glen when a voice disturbed the tranquility of the morning’s routine. “Open the sluice gates, boys.” The two men went for their guns, but Charlie was ready. He shot the gun out of one man’s hand and told the other to drop his gun or he’d kill him. The man recognized the voice and knew he might not be as lucky as his partner was, so he opened his hand and he let the gun drop. Charlie heard the welcome thud of metal hitting earth and he lowered his gun. Then, he walked over to the injured man. “How’s your hand, partner?”
The man was surprised by the question, but he answered straight out. “That was a good shot, Kid. Knocked the gun right out of my hand.”
Charlie could see blood running from somewhere on his hand. He pulled his red bandanna from around his neck. “Come on over here by the fire and let me see your hand.” The man held out his hand and let Charlie examine it. “It’s not bad. It appears that the hammer closed on the soft part of your hand and pulled some skin off when the gun flew out of it. You’ll be all right.” Charlie wrapped his bandanna around the man’s hand and he looked at him. “You owe me one red bandanna, buddy. Got that.” Then he winked at him and s
miled. “Look, boys, I know that you fellas are only doing your job, but I have an interest in a couple of the mines downstream and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t dam the water from flowing down to them. Think you could do that for me, fellas?” The two men nodded, feeling kind of foolish. The Kid wasn’t a bad sort. He could have killed them both, which is what they would have done if the roles were reversed. Now they felt kind of guilty about it.
“What are your names, boys?”
“I’m Eli Stone and the man you shot the gun from is Herb Gossett.”
“Well, Herb, I’m mighty sorry for having shot you, but at least I didn’t aim to kill you and that’s worth something. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah I sure do, and I thank you for the courtesy of you not doing that. You know - I mean - kill me.”
Charlie laughed at the way Herb was trying to put his words together, but he got his meaning. Before he left, he wanted their reassurances that they wouldn’t try to kill him in the future. “Well, I’m real glad that I didn’t have to kill you boys ‘cause I know of a certain padre who would be mighty mad at me if I did. Hey, this coffee is good. It sure hits the spot. I’m gonna be leaving you boys in a few minutes, but before I do, I want your word that you won’t be joining the other fellas who will be coming to kill me. I know they’ll be coming and I’d be right disappointed if I saw you boys with them.” The three men drank their coffee and after a second cup, Charlie got up to leave, but not before he heard their answer. “Well, fellas, what’s it to be? Am I going to see you with those men or do I have your word that in the future you won’t try to bushwhack me?”
The two men looked at each other and shrugged. “You’ve been a sport, Kid, so you have our word that when Parker and his men come for you, we won’t be with them.”
“I’m really glad to hear you say that because if any of those boys come gunning for me, they’re gonna die - and you have my word on that.” They looked incredulously at him and they thought that the stories about him must be true. “Gotta run now, boys. Take care and it was real nice to meet you . . . and, Herb, I’m right sorry about your hand. Hope it heals quickly like. Well, so long for now, boys.” Charlie mounted Comet and began the hour’s ride back to Bob’s place.
