Alta Vista: Sage Country Book Two

by Dan Arnold

  In our bedroom on the ground floor, I hung my gun belt on the bed post and was about to put my shoulder holster on a hook in the wardrobe.

  “John, I’d feel better if you would put your guns where the children can’t reach them,” Lora said from the doorway.

  “Well, I like to have them close to hand. Where would you have me put them?”

  “How about on top of the wardrobe; that way they’ll be close to you, but out of sight and reach of the children.”

  I didn’t like the change, but understanding her reasoning, I took my .45 out of the holster of my gun belt and put it on top of the wardrobe along with my .38 caliber Smith and Wesson pistol, still in the shoulder holster.

  I spent the rest of the time before dinner playing outside with the children.

  One of the things I found awkward about life at a boarding house was the constantly changing faces and the comings and goings of the guests. I had to get used to it while I had been courting Lora, and again now that we were taking in new boarders.

  I’d yet to meet the newest boarder, as he’d only dropped off Lora and the kids before returning to town. He hadn’t come back for supper.

  Mr. Morgan had gone into town after supper to meet up with some new friends and potential business associates at the Palace.

  ***

  After all the dishes were cleaned up and Consuela had gone home, Lora and I played with the children. As bed time approached, Lora read to them from the Bible. She read the story about David and Goliath. The children had never heard it before and they listened with great interest. We sat and talked about what we might learn from the story. Pretty soon, Jacob and Sarah showed signs of being sleepy.

  As soon as the kids were tucked into bed, Lora and I decided to do the same ourselves. We were just getting ready for bed when I heard the sound of someone coming into the house through the front door. I looked toward my guns, but Lora gave me a scowl.

  “John, calm down; it’s probably Mr. Wilson, the new boarder, coming in. It might even be Mr. Morgan.”

  I felt foolish and berated myself for being so jumpy. I was in the process of getting undressed and I’d just taken off my shirt, when Lora noticed something new.

  “Oh John, is that another gunshot wound there on your neck?”

  She gently reached out to touch the scabbed up area.

  “It’s just a crease, baby. It’ll heal up quick.”

  “Let me see your leg,” she said.

  “I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours,” I replied, with a lascivious leer.

  “Well, then, drop your drawers,” she giggled.

  I’d just done that when our bedroom door burst open.

  Standing in the doorway was Homer Thorndyke, and he had a pistol in his hand.

  “Well, well, I see I’ve caught you at a bad moment,” he said.

  I was standing there with my arms around Lora in her petticoat, with my pants down around my ankles. He had us covered with his gun from ten feet away. There was nothing I could do.

  “Mr. Wilson!” Lora cried. “Leave here at once!”

  “No, I won’t be leaving. At least not for a little while. Tell her, Sheriff Sage. Tell her who I am.”

  I sighed.

  “Lora, this is Homer Thorndyke, although I expect he introduced himself to you as someone else.”

  “William Wilson,” she mumbled.

  Homer Thorndyke stepped into the room and closed the damaged door behind him.

  “Mrs. Sage, please climb up on the bed there,” he said.

  “I will not,” she replied, clearly shaken. She was clinging to me tightly.

  He looked at me.

  “Tell her to do as I say, or I’ll put a bullet through her head.”

  I ground my teeth.

  Gently pushing her away from me, I said, “Go on, honey. Get up on the bed.”

  Lora climbed up on the bed and sat there glaring at Homer Thorndyke.

  “Oh this is fun,” Homer said.

  Lora and I were now about five feet apart. Homer was still ten feet away from us. He had his gun pointed directly between us. He only had to move it a few inches to center on either one of us.

  “Now, let’s see, Sheriff Sage. Should I kill you now and then take your wife, or make you watch first, and then kill you?” Homer asked, shifting his aim back and forth.

  It was a decision I’d already made.

  I heard his gun thunder, and saw the flame stab at me as I leapt into him. There was no pain, but even as I reached him I knew he’d shot me. I was trying to take the gun away from him, but he was very strong and in a moment we both crashed to the floor. I was pinned under him, still trying to hang on to his gun arm with both hands.

  I felt Lora brush past us and prayed she would escape.

  Suddenly, he smashed his other fist into the side of my head. I saw stars.

  He hit me again and again. I felt him tear his gun arm free, as I tried to clear the cobwebs from my head.

  He pushed up off of me, and I was vaguely aware he stood over me bringing his gun to bear, pointed down at my head. I heard the roar of the gunshot, then another, and another. Blood splattered over me and I lost my eyesight as everything became black. I felt the weight of the world on me. It was hard to breathe. I heard myself groan.

  I managed to open one eye, seeing an angel all dressed in white. She looked like Lora.

  She stood there in her corset and petticoat with a gun stretched out in front of her, holding my .45 with both hands. She’d taken it down from the top of the wardrobe.

  Everything was hazy.

  My last thought.

  “Where was Homer Thorndyke?”

  43.

  Life is uncertain. What we want is not always what we need. We only live one day at a time. We live today. We are not promised tomorrow.

  One day each of us will give an accounting for the days we were given. Will it be today?

  I thought about that accounting frequently in the following days.

  ***

  When Bob arrived at the corner from which he liked to watch the house, he found a still smoldering cigarette butt, partially crushed on the ground. It was then he heard the first gunshot. It launched him down the hill at a dead run. The following three gunshots were ringing through the house as he flew through the front door.

  He found Lora standing over the bodies of Homer Thorndyke and myself.

  I was soaked in blood—his and mine, where I lay pinned under the dead man.

  Lora had shot Homer Thorndyke three times. The first two shots would’ve ultimately proved fatal, but the last shot had been nearly point blank to the back of his head, killing him instantly.

  They both thought I was dead.

  Hearing the children crying, Lora started out to comfort them.

  That was when I moved.

  Bob hitched the team, while Lora tried to stop the bleeding, and comfort the children, all at the same time. They hauled me into town and Doc Johnson was able to save me.

  Homer Thorndyke’s bullet had gone right through me. Because of my leap, Thorndyke had been forced to whip his gun up and fire without aiming. The bullet entered my chest below my collarbone and exited high, out the back of my shoulder. The angle of the shot had missed my spine and any vital organs because the bullet hit a rib, breaking it and deflecting it away from my heart and lungs, but I’d lost too much blood. Doc told them it was questionable whether I would make it.

  I was back on my feet by the end of the week.

  ***

  The new preacher up at North Fork stopped by the house to see me on Thursday.

  He said his name was Jeff Bradley. His right arm was in a sling, due to some injury. He and his fiancée, a lady by the name of Emma Poole, were on their way to Denver to be married.

  They planned to be away until the ruckus died down.

  “Your deputy has it all under control up there, John. The worst of the riff raff are already pulling out and others are changing the way the
y do business. North Fork will be a different town when we get back,” Reverend Bradley said.

  Emma nodded in agreement.

  “I know you haven’t been able to work out the details with the county yet, Sheriff. The house will be vacated by this weekend, and as far as I’m concerned it’s available for use as an orphanage as soon as the county wants to use it. I’m prepared to deed it over with the provisions we discussed. We’ve decided to hold on to five acres for the church and grounds. We’ll take care of all that when we get back,” Emma said.

  “Where will y’all live?”

  “Oh, with so many people leaving, we have our choice of suitable houses, but I expect we’ll build a parsonage right next to the church, at the same time the church is being built.”

  “I like that idea.” I said.

  ***

  On Saturday morning Tom, Becky, Lora, and I were having breakfast at our house.

  Mr. Morgan had gone home, leaving us with no boarders. With no boarders about, the kids were running through the house like wild Indians.

  None of us were particularly surprised when Bob came in.

  He was dressed to the nines, in a brand new suit, with highly polished boots. His vest sported a gold watch chain with a fancy fob, and he had a gold stick pin in his tie. He was holding a grey derby in his left hand.

  Under his suit coat, he was armed as usual, with his .45 slanted diagonally across his left hip. I caught a glimpse of a new black gun belt and holster.

  He looked the perfect gentleman, otherwise.

  “I just wanted to say goodbye to you folks. I’ll be heading out on the 12:10 to Denver to meet with the Governor, and then I’ll be off on whatever errand he has for me.”

  “Does Lacey know you’re leaving?” Becky asked.

  Bob smiled.

  “Indeed she does. It seems all the celebrity caused by the newspaper stories has improved my social life. Other ladies are keeping me much too busy to spend any time with her. So, I sent her a note in which I confessed I am an unsuitable suitor, as it were. Besides, I am far too fond of my freedom to consider settling down. It seems I am by nature a tumbleweed, drifting whichever way the wind blows.”

  He glanced at me.

  “Why, Bob, that’s almost poetic,” Becky said.

  Tom rolled his eyes.

  “And entirely true,” Lora added.

  I winced.

  Seeing my discomfort, Bob laughed.

  ”Will you join us for breakfast, Bob?” Lora offered.

  “I would be delighted. I was afraid you were never going to ask.”

  ***

  The only good thing about being shot was staying home, unavailable for comment or interviews by any of the host of newspaper reporters who showed up in Bear Creek in the aftermath of the violence. Some of them attempted to seek lodging with us, but Lora shooed them all away.

  For a whole week now, the papers all over the country have run headlines and stories about various aspects of the shootings up at North Fork.

  There are even photographs of the empty building with the signs proclaiming the place as the Gold Dust Hotel and Casino. The man with the star, seen standing in front of the building, with his gun prominently displayed, is Tommy Turner.

  His story about meeting Wes Spradlin on the evening of the shootout is widely circulated.

  I imagine you’ve seen some of the stories. Please don’t believe everything you read in the papers and please don’t worry, Mother.

  Lora and I are both fine. We’re considering adopting the children, Jacob and Sarah.

  I don’t know how we’re going to handle all of this notoriety, or what troubles may come of it, but we’ll manage somehow. If I don’t get re-elected, we may be coming your way one of these days.

  God only knows.

  I hope all is well with you, Nick, Rachel, and the rest of the family. Lora sends her love, as do I.

  Your loving son,

  John

  *******

  Turn the page for an excerpt from:

  riding for the brand

  SAGE COUNTRY Book Three

  RIDING FOR THE BRAND

  Sage Country Book Three

  Two men on horseback stopped in the yard.

  To my surprise, one of the men was “Snake” Flanagan. I’d met Snake in Amarillo. He was said to be a gunfighter, once upon a time, but we’d never had a reason to lock horns. He and I were both about fifteen years older since last we met. I hoped I’d aged better than he had. Snake had never been tall, but now he appeared thin and shrunken.

  The other man was much bigger, and he appeared angry. He got off his horse and stormed up onto the porch.

  “Mister, you’re trespassing on private property. What‘re you doing here? We don’t cotton to strangers nosing around.” He said, looming over me.

  “I have friends who used to live in this house. This is their land. I’m just having a look around. Who are you, and why are you here?” I asked.

  “My name is Higgins, and this is my place now.”

  I shook my head.

  “Not according to the deed records in the county courthouse in Bear Creek. This land belongs to the Murphy heirs.”

  “You’re a damn liar. Who might you be, when you’re at home?” Higgins asked, with a sneer.

  He stood so close, his foul breath nearly knocked me over.

  “My name is John Everett Sage, whether I’m at home or here on this porch.”

  “I don’t care who you are. You leave now, or I’ll dump your body in the outhouse.”

  I took a long slow breath. Was that what had become of Jacob and Sarah’s mother? Had her body been dumped in the outhouse?

  Something inside me turned to stone, and anger like a flame began spreading through me.

  “Careful Higgins, he’s just as likely to kill you as not,” the man called ‘Snake’ said. “He’s a dangerous gunman from way back. You may have read about him in the newspapers.”

  “Phaw!” spat Higgins, “Them papers tell stories so’s folks will buy um. Fancy suit and all, he don’t look like nothing to me.”

  He reached for his gun.

  I was close enough to whip my gun out and smash it across his face, even as his gun came free of the holster.

  Higgins crumpled, his gun was flung aside. I turned on Snake, leveling my Colt.

  Snake Flanagan sat his horse calmly, and slowly lifted both hands.

  “Not my fight, Sage,” he grinned. “…watch your back now.”

  Higgins came up off the floor of the porch, quicker than I could believe. Before I could swivel fully around, he slammed into me like a run-away locomotive.

  I was driven backward into a corner post of the porch. The impact knocked my gun out of my hand, the air out of my lungs, and we both crashed through the post and down into the yard.

  Higgins landed on top of me, effectively keeping me from catching my breath. I was trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head and get some air, when I remembered Higgins was trying to kill me. He was a scrapper and a brawler, and he outweighed me by nearly a hundred pounds. His hands clamped around my throat, and my world began to get very small.

  The sound of my hideout Colt Lightening .38 being cocked, made him stop squeezing my throat. The pressure of the barrel up under his chin made him rise up off me, as though he were being lifted by a block and tackle.

  “I told you, Higgins. He’s a gun slick from way back. Man like that don’t kill easy.” Snake observed.

  There was a huge welt swelling over Higgins’ right eye, from where my .45 had clipped him.

  Higgins growled at Snake Flanagan, “You could’ve backed my play, you sum’bitch.”

  “I told you not to start a fight with him, you done that all on your own.” Snake responded.

  I pushed Higgins backward with my gun, until we reached where my .45 had landed in the yard.

  I knew I would never be able to get him to Bear Creek by myself, at least not without having to kill him. He would tr
y to jump me the first chance he got.

  “You wouldn’t kill an unarmed man would you?” He asked

  “Higgins, you’re just as dangerous with or without a gun. I expect you would have no qualms about killing me if I was unarmed. Now, back up over there toward your partner, so I can watch you both at the same time.”

  When he was far enough away, I picked up my .45, and with both guns leveled on the two men, I decided to let them go. But Higgins had something to say.

  “You just bought yourself a one way ticket to hell, mister.” He said.

  “I don’t anticipate that outcome, but I suspect you will most likely end up there.”

  “Oh, we’ll meet again, alright. Maybe Jud Coltrane will let me peel your hide, and nail it to the barn door.”

  “Well then, maybe I should just kill you now, and save myself the trouble.”

  Higgins paled.

  Snake said. “Whoa there, Sage, if you do, I’ll have to mix in myself.”

  “Is that right? Are you feeling lucky, Snake? Do you think you could pull your gun faster than I can shoot both of you?”

  Snake shrugged.

  “It’s up to you.” He said.

  I nodded.

  “OK, Higgins this is your lucky day. Get on your horse and get out of my sight. If you try something like this again, I’ll put a bullet through the pimple on your shoulders you call your head.”

  Higgins looked relieved, as he mounted his horse. Then he remembered something.

  “What about my gun?” He asked.

  “It’s my gun now. Be grateful I took it, instead of your life.”

  Snake Flanagan had a twinkle in his eye and a little smile on his lips. He found the whole thing kind of funny.

  “Thanks for staying out of this, Snake.” I said.

  “Por nada. When I’m ready, we’ll see just how good you really are.”

  “…Another time, another place.” I said.

  “You won’t have long to wait.” He replied.

  I watched them both ride away. When they were completely gone from sight, or sound, I holstered my .45, put my .38 back in the shoulder holster, tucked Higgins gun behind my belt, and retrieved my hat.