Way of the Gun (9781101597804)

by West, Charles G.

  They started out again a little later the next morning, since they had stayed up so long the night before. Carson walked almost a quarter of a mile downstream, looking for Red Shirt’s body, but it was nowhere to be found. It was enough to worry him some. He would have felt better had he been able to confirm the kill, but there was no sign anywhere along the banks that would tell him the savage killer had pulled himself out of the creek. Recalling the instant the night before when Frank’s shot had slammed into Red Shirt’s side, he remembered the look in the half-breed’s eyes. It had been the stare of a man looking into the eyes of death. If he was not dead at that moment, then he surely was by now. Carson stood there by a turn of the creek where the water formed a little pond before continuing out to the prairie. Thinking of the powerful hands that had trapped his wrists seconds before the fatal shot, he reached down and picked up a sizable piece of a dead limb and tossed it into the water. It swirled around for a few moments before the current took it away downstream. Satisfied, he returned to the scene of the fight to look for the rifle he had dropped in the water.

  He searched for his rifle for quite some time before giving it up for lost. It confounded him that he couldn’t find it in the clear-running creek. He knew it sure as hell didn’t float away like Red Shirt’s corpse, but it had somehow vanished, so he finally gave up and rode away with Luther Moody’s Winchester rifle and his blue roan gelding—his own rifle snagged on a root under the bank, right where he had started to pull himself out of the creek when Red Shirt attacked him.

  Chapter 8

  It took a full day to find their way out of the mountains. Referring to the rough map that Jonah had brought with them was not helpful, for they had no known point to start from. With nothing more to count on, they followed the valley to its end, which left them with still more mountains to find their way around, trying always to keep a northern heading. Striking a river that snaked its way out into the rolling hills and plains, they consulted Jonah’s map again and decided that it might be the Little Big Horn, so they decided to follow it. The river took so many turns Carson soon decided it would take them until Christmas if they stuck strictly by the banks, so he picked out points in the distance and rode straight toward them. It seemed that the river always came back to them. Without the strain of having to always hurry, they allowed themselves to take a day of rest when Carson spotted a herd of antelope and was fortunate enough to get a shot at one as they crossed the river. They camped one night at the confluence of the river they had been following with a larger river. Carson decided to call it the Big Horn, whether it was or not, and he felt sure that whatever river it was, it more than likely would eventually lead them to the Yellowstone. His assumption turned out to be accurate, for they finally struck the Yellowstone one afternoon about three hours before dusk.

  They were sure the wide river they came to was none other than the Yellowstone, if only by its size. The river they had been following emptied into it at what appeared to be the beginnings of a small settlement. It had the same effect on the weary travelers as if it had been a metropolis. There was a small trading post of some kind and a sawmill, plus a couple of cabins and a blacksmith shop, all on the south bank of the river. Gazing across the river at the rough bluffs, one could guess why no one was looking to settle on that side. Carson’s horse, as well as the blue roan Red Shirt had ridden, was in need of shoeing, but with supplies running short, they decided to go to the trading post first.

  “Well, howdy, folks,” the proprietor sang out cheerfully when they pulled up before his store. “The name’s Gabe Loomis. Welcome. Where are you folks headin’?”

  “Howdy,” Frank returned. “We’re on our way to a place called Big Timber. You ever heard of it?”

  “Well, sure,” Gabe replied. “I’ve heard of it—’bout a hundred and fifty miles from here, I reckon, give or take a few miles. That’s a far piece to go yet, and you folks look like you’re a little tuckered out. Where’d you start out from?”

  “The Black Hills,” Frank said.

  “My stars,” Gabe commented, as if impressed. “You folks come on inside.” He turned to Nancy. “Would you like a cup of water, ma’am? Ridin’ that country between here and the Dakotas must be hard on a lady. I’ve got a jar of nice cool water settin’ in the spring box.” He sent a towheaded youngster down to the spring to fetch a drink for the three of them. Nancy graciously accepted and took the opportunity to sit down in a real chair to enjoy it. Getting down to business then, Gabe asked, “What can I do for you folks?”

  “We need to buy some supplies,” Frank told him, and proceeded to call out the items needed.

  While the cheerful merchant fetched the items requested, he continued to question the strangers. “What’s in Big Timber that pulls you folks up that way?” He went on before Frank had a chance to answer. “If you’re lookin’ for a place to put down some roots, you oughta think about staying right here. We’re fixin’ to build us a nice little town. There’s good land for crops on this side of the river that ain’t been claimed yet, and there ain’t been no Injun trouble for some time now.” He set a sack of flour on the counter and tied it with a string. “What’s in Big Timber that’s got you ridin’ all that way?” He repeated the question.

  “My father-in-law’s in the cattle business up there, and we’re on our way to join him,” Frank replied. “Otherwise, we might have been interested in looking over your little town.”

  “Oh well,” Gabe said. “Couldn’t hurt to ask. We’re hopin’ to attract families that are lookin’ to settle down here and help us build a town. What about the young feller with you? Kin of yours?”

  “No, that’s John Carson. He’s a friend of ours.” Then remembering his manners, he said, “I’m Frank Thompson, and this is my wife, Nancy.”

  “Glad to know you,” Gabe said. Nodding in Carson’s direction, he commented, “He don’t say an awful lot, does he?”

  Frank laughed. “Oh, he can talk, but I guess he doesn’t waste words at that.”

  Carson had not been paying much attention to the conversation between Gabe and Frank. He had been thinking about something else. Frank was restocking supplies for him as well as the two of them, and he couldn’t help feeling guilty about not paying his fair share. The problem was he didn’t have any money, so he paid attention when Gabe totaled up the cost of Frank’s supplies and rounded it off to twenty-seven dollars. He didn’t remember much of the long division he was taught in the few years of schooling he had received, but he was pretty sure one-third of that sum was nine dollars. Since there were three of them, he thought that was fair, so he filed that away in his mind to take care of at the first opportunity. He was not without means. He had things to trade: a fine horse, an extra Winchester rifle, a Spencer carbine, two Colt revolvers, a good saddle. The ammunition he would keep. You couldn’t have too many cartridges.

  When the supplies were loaded, they bade Gabe Loomis farewell and rode over to the blacksmith, since Carson’s horses were in bad need of new shoes. Nancy and Frank waited by the gatepost while Carson talked to Aaron Cox, the smithy. Their horses had been shod before they left the Black Hills. Carson and Cox came out of the shop in a few minutes and after a respectful nod to the man and woman at his gatepost, the blacksmith looked at the hooves of the two horses. “Yes, sir,” Cox said, “they need shoein’, all right.” He dropped the bay’s hoof and straightened up. “You want me to shoe ’em?”

  “I ain’t got any money right now, but if you’re willin’ to trade, we can do some business. I’ve got a fine-workin’ Colt .45 handgun here I’ll let you have if you shoe these two horses and give me nine dollars cash to boot. Whaddaya say?”

  Cox had to pause to think about it. He took the gun belt and drew the revolver to examine it. “It is in good shape,” he said, “but I’ve got a pretty good pistol already. I’ll tell you what, since you say you’re short on cash, I’ll take it off your hands for the shoes
and two dollars cash.”

  Carson shook his head. “Nope, I’ve got to have nine dollars.”

  “Five dollars?” Cox countered.

  “Nine,” Carson replied.

  “You drive a hard bargain, mister, but I reckon the gun is worth it. All right, I’ll do it.”

  By the time the blacksmith finished shoeing the two horses, it was getting late enough in the afternoon to begin thinking about finding a place to camp. They rode down the river a short distance until they came to a stream that emptied into it, and decided it was as good a place as any. After the horses were taken care of and Nancy was cooking their supper over a cheerful fire, Carson sought to pay for his share of the supplies. Handing Frank the nine dollars he got from Cox, he said, “Here’s money to cover my share of the supplies you bought back there. I think that’s fair. Tell me if you think it ain’t.”

  Frank was taken by surprise. Busy over her kettle, Nancy paused to hear the exchange between them. “My goodness, John,” Frank said, “I didn’t expect you to pay anything for the food.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell eatin’ my share of it, and there’d be a whole lot more for you and Nancy if I wasn’t with you.”

  Nancy commented at that point, “If you hadn’t been with us, I doubt Frank and I would still be alive to eat it. Don’t take his money, Frank.” Looking directly at Carson then, she said, “I don’t recall you charging us anything for that antelope we just finished.”

  The bantering went on for about ten minutes longer, before they agreed to accept two dollars as Carson’s part in the food bill. Once that was agreed upon, they settled down to eat and celebrate their arrival at the Yellowstone River, having survived the more risky portion of their journey. They would start out in the morning, riding west along the river. Aaron Cox had recommended following the trail on the south bank, and figured the distance to be more like one hundred and thirty-five miles, instead of the hundred and fifty Gabe had estimated. “You’ll strike Coulson in about two days,” he had said, “and that’s more than halfway to Big Timber. You’ll recognize it when you get there. There’s already a good-sized town started, right on the river, and if you ain’t crossed over to the other side by then, Coulson’s a good place to do it.”

  * * *

  Their journey along the Yellowstone was as uneventful as they had hoped, and Cox’s estimate of the distance to Coulson was accurate, for they arrived at the new settlement at the end of their second day from Gabe Loomis’s trading post. At a rate of ten cents each, they crossed to the north bank of the Yellowstone on a ferry just west of the town. Although not in existence for a great length of time, Coulson was a thriving town, already boasting a two-story hotel, several saloons, a post office, and a few other stores. They did not linger in the town, but camped on the river a few hundred yards west of the ferry and continued their journey early the next morning.

  Another day and a half on a well-traveled trail found them at last in the settlement of Big Timber, located where the Boulder River flowed into the Yellowstone. With the Absaroka and Beartooth mountains to the south, the Crazy Mountains to the northwest, and the beginning of an endless prairie stretching northward, Carson was convinced that this was the country he had a yearning for.

  They were not home yet, however, for there was still the task of finding Mathew Cain’s ranch. Jonah’s map was not very detailed at this point, showing the ranch somewhere north of the confluence of the Boulder and the Yellowstone. Frank reasoned that the most likely place to get directions would be in the general store, so they tied the horses up there and went in. They were greeted by Albert Smith, the proprietor. “Mathew Cain? Sure, I know him. He buys most of his supplies from me.” He favored Nancy with a warm smile and said, “So you’re Mr. Cain’s daughter. He said he had a daughter back East somewhere. I’m right pleased to meet you, ma’am.” After all the introductions were made, Smith told them the best way to find the ranch house. “There’s a lot of prairie out there, so I think the way for you folks to find it is to go back east about eight miles till you come to a good-sized creek that empties into the river. That’s Sweet Grass Creek. Just follow that creek about seventeen or eighteen miles, and you can’t miss your daddy’s house. It’s right on Sweet Grass Creek. There ain’t no sign or gatepost, nothin’ but the brand, M/C, carved on a tree.”

  “Much obliged,” Frank said.

  Outside, they decided there was not enough daylight left to make the entire trip, but they would ride the eight miles back to find Sweet Grass Creek, then follow it as far as they could before having to stop to rest the horses. As Carson suspected, the horses gave out before the daylight did, so they picked a spot where a pair of cottonwood trees stood guard on either side of the creek and made camp there.

  It was difficult for Nancy to contain her excitement during the evening, being so close to seeing her family again. It had been six years since the rest of her family had left Omaha to follow her father’s dream of breeding cattle. Nancy had remained in Omaha with an aunt on her mother’s side, planning to join her family when she had completed her schooling. She had been delayed in coming west when she met a friend of her father, Jonah Thompson, who had helped her father drive a small herd of cattle up into Montana. More importantly, she met Jonah’s younger brother, Frank. The two were attracted to each other right from the start, and after a short courtship, they decided to marry. They built a small house in Omaha where Frank worked in a hardware store. Times were hard for the young couple, so when Jonah received a letter from Mathew Cain telling him that he had prospered in Montana and inviting him to come back out to help him expand his business, Jonah didn’t hesitate to accept. When he announced his plans to Frank and Nancy, they decided to go with him. Now, finally, they had reached Montana, but, sadly, without Jonah.

  It was a difficult night for Nancy to sleep. She would see her family again tomorrow. They would meet her husband. She wondered how much everyone had changed. Would she even recognize her younger sister, Millie? She had been only ten when Nancy last saw her. And her brother, Lucas, was only eight years old when she saw him waving to her from the back of her father’s wagon. They were both grown up now. Then a distressing thought occurred. Will I look so old to them now? She looked over at Frank, already asleep. Oh well, not much I can do to make myself look younger. She turned on her side and tried to go to sleep.

  She was up earlier than usual the next morning, and was the first to revive the dying fire. Eager to get started, she roused Frank from his blankets and sang out to Carson, “If you two want to eat before we get started, you’d better get out of those blankets.”

  “Damn, honey,” Frank replied, “it ain’t even daylight yet.”

  “I don’t care. I’ve come all this way to see my family and I don’t plan to lie around here waiting for the sun to come up. Now get yourself up!”

  Not waiting for her to start on him, Carson rolled out of his blankets and pulled his boots on. “I’ll start saddlin’ up the horses right after I walk down the creek a ways to see if everything’s all right behind those bushes.”

  “Me, too,” Frank said, and fell in behind Carson as he slipped between the bushes and headed down the creek. Less modest than Carson, he stopped to do his business right outside the circle of firelight while Carson continued on to find more privacy. By the time he returned to the campfire, Frank was in the process of saddling up, with Nancy badgering him to hurry. Breakfast was already on the plates and coffee poured. Frank glanced up at Carson and winked. “You’d best not drag your feet today, John. Nancy’s ready to see her pa, and she ain’t likely to spare the whip.”

  “I can see that,” Carson said with a grin.

  “Listen, you two, I haven’t seen my family in six years, and we’re sitting here only a few miles away. I can’t wait any longer.”

  Not wishing to delay the reunion, the men ate quickly, loaded up the packhorses, and got under way immediately.
Frank commented that they broke camp quicker than they had done during the time when Red Shirt was chasing them.

  * * *

  Mathew Cain, owner of the M/C Ranch, stepped down from the saddle and handed the reins to his son Lucas, who had ridden in from the south range with him. Lucas took the reins and had started leading the horses toward the barn when the riders caught his eye. “Pa,” he called back to his father, then pointed to the three. “Riders comin’ in.” They were leading five horses. Probably wanting to sell Pa some horses, he thought. It was not an unusual occurrence.

  Cain turned to look in the direction Lucas pointed. He waited until they had come a little closer before speaking. “Ain’t none of the boys,” he said when he didn’t recognize any of the three. “Looks like one of ’em’s a woman. Wonder where in the hell they’re goin’.” He did not see many strangers riding across his ranch, and whenever he did, they were usually lost. “I’ll tell Lizzie she might have to feed some extra mouths.” He stepped up on the porch and stood waiting for the strangers to arrive. “You go ahead and put the horses in the corral.” He stared hard at the woman riding between the two men. Something about her looked familiar. He was reminded of his daughter. Then the thought struck him. Nancy? Could that be you? It had been at least six years since he had seen his elder daughter. He walked back down the porch steps to stand in the yard. The two men with her were both strangers to him. He was sure he had never seen either of them before, so he spent no time in studying them. His attention was pulled back to the woman, who was now smiling broadly. It is Nancy! He started walking to meet her. She threw her leg over and hopped down from the saddle when still several yards from him. Carson reached over and took her reins.