The Cassidy Posse

by D. N. Bedeker

  “Damn,” said Butch. “That sounds like Red.”

  “That’s got to be Red,” said Elzy. “Only time that man opens his mouth is to complain. Surprised he didn’t say the fish wasn’t big enough.”

  “Was there uh lad about twenty with them?” Mike asked Luke. “One with sandy blond hair?”

  “I asked about the others,” Jack assured him.

  “He didn’t rightly remember,” said Luke. “They come up on him all the sudden. Rattled the boy. Said a couple of ‘em didn’t look like they were from around here. Said they had suits and hats on like they was from the East.”

  “That would likely be those other prisoners he escaped with,” concluded Mike. “They’re still wearin’ the clothes they stole on duh train.”

  “He did say they moved into the stream after they left him like they wanted to leave no trail,” said Jack.

  “Hell, that’s a waste of time,” declared Butch. “There’s only one way to go. Down the Sweetwater and through Devil’s Gap.”

  “What about that way?” asked Jack, pointing towards the mountains to the north.

  “Over the Rattlesnake Range?”

  “I grew up here. I know a pass. I can save you a good day’s time.”

  “Didn’t you feel the wind change early this mornin’?” said Butch. “There’s a storm coming this way. Look at the sky over west.”

  “I can get you through those mountains before sundown if we ride now,” Jack assured him.

  “That, uh course, means you’re joinin’ us,” said Mike, not happy with the direction the conversation was taking.

  Jack shrugged his shoulders and smiled confidently. “Luke and me are volunteering to ride with you. It don’t look like you’re in any position to be turning down help.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” asked Elzy. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “Jack says we’ll be famous if we catch this guy,” Luke explained innocently. “There’ll be reporters and everything.”

  “Luke, would you just shut up and let me do the talking,” said Jack.

  “Elzy and me don’t want nothing to do with reporters,” said Butch.

  “We got reputations to protect,” declared Elzy. “We can’t be written up in a newspaper as part of a posse. Why, we’d never be accepted in any self-respecting den of thieves again.”

  “Well, enough jaw-bonin’,” said Butch. “You say you can save us a day’s ride. That will put us right on Ole Red’s heels. Besides, you’re not gonna sell those horses unless we let you come. Am I right?”

  “Hell, it’s the Cassidy posse. I’m the only real Cassidy here.”

  “It ain’t my posse,” Butch corrected him. “It’s Lieutenant McGhan’s.”

  “Well, folks ‘round here never heard of Lieutenant McGhan but they’s heard of Butch Cassidy,” said Luke, “and there’re calling it the Cassidy Posse.”

  Elzy, always appreciative of the ridiculous, began laughing as he slipped through the corral fence and began to saddle the fresh horses. “You got the cattle men declaring themselves to be the law and heading for Buffalo to lynch the duly-elected sheriff. Why wouldn’t you want to ride right into the middle of it with a posse led by an outlaw?”

  “It ain’t my idea,” Butch said, walking towards the corral to assist Elzy. “Only reason me and the laughing boy are here is we can get you into the Hole-in-the-Wall. If we move fast maybe we can get them before they get that far and save me some embarrassment. I ain’t never gonna be able to go back there if they figure out I brought the law in.”

  “It’s an honor among thieves thing,” Elzy assured them.

  “The sun’s rising in the sky,” Butch said as he pulled the girth strap tight on the last horse. “We got everything. Time to move out.”

  “We got enough grub if we get stuck in the mountains?” Luke voiced his first concern.

  Mary wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and looked towards the forbidding mountains to the north. She went into the house and returned with a pair of boots and a fur hat that looked like it was fashioned out of an entire buffalo head. She caught Mike as he was about to mount his horse and drew him aside.

  “Mike, I noticed you have street shoes on. You can’t ride into those mountains like that. These were my father’s. They look like they would fit you.”

  “Ah, I can’t take yer father boots.”

  “Please don’t be stubborn,” she said quietly, “and wear this hat. That Bowler you’re wearing doesn’t protect you. You can lose your ears to frostbite. You’ll need these in the mountains. My brother’s promise to get you through the mountains by sundown is probably a little optimistic.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll tie a scarf around my hat when we get out in the country.”

  She looked at him for a moment with a troubled look on her face.

  “Okay,” Mike conceded. “I’ll wear the boots.” He unlaced his street shoes and put on the well-worn boots. “I’ll give them to yer brother tuh bring back.”

  “No, you can have them,” she said, stuffing his street shoes in his saddlebag. “I have no need of them.”

  Mike mounted his horse and looked down at Mary. “Well, thank you. I wish I had sumthin’ tuh give yuh in return. You can keep that useless nephew of mine.”

  She laughed. “I think it’s much too quiet out here for Patrick. He was definitely born for the big city.”

  “How about me, Mary? Am I born fer the big city?”

  “Probably,” she said with a shrug. “Anyhow, I’m sure Patrick is going to be very entertaining to have around for a few weeks. I’ll invite several of the local women over so he can enthrall us with tales of Chicago.”

  “Damn it, let’s move,” shouted Jack. “She gonna be bringing out Indian blankets next if we don’t get out of here.”

  Mike kicked his horse and moved him alongside Jack’s black stallion. He grabbed the horse’s bridle to hold it still and grabbed Jack by the coat collar. “Yer gonna have tuh learn some manners, boy, if yuh want to ride with me.” Jack jerked the head of the stallion and he pulled away from Mike’s grip. He wheeled the horse around defiantly and headed for the Rattlesnake Range. Butch and Elza spurred their horses and followed at a canter.

  “He’s not a man to mess with,” concluded Elzy.

  “Now that’s a good thing for a jasper like yourself to figure out,” said Butch.

  Mike circled his horse around Mary and tipped his hat good-bye in the style of a true cowboy.

  “Be patient with him, Mike,” she said with an anxious smile.

  He returned her smile and kicked his horse into a gallop to catch up with the others.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE RATTLESNAKE RANGE

  The posse moved east on a well-worn trail along the Sweetwater River. It was forged and hardened by thousands of hopeful pioneers moving west. Jack remained in the lead with his friend Luke not far behind. A few yards behind him, Butch and Elzy rode side-by-side as they moved through a morning fog that had settled along the banks. Butch’s head turned frequently as he was keeping his eye on the swishing tail of the black stallion ahead of him while watching the hard-headed Chicago cop bring up the rear. Mike would catch up as soon as he cooled down, Butch figured, but he didn’t want to lose him in the fog. They already had left too late, so they could not spare any time backtracking. It was a relief when they rode out of the fog and Mike decided to join them. He reined in alongside Butch because Elzy tended to annoy him.

  “You know your ridin’ on history here, Lieutenant McGhan,” said Butch, trying to make conversation.

  “How’s that?” asked Mike indifferently.

  “We’re on the Oregon Trail,” said Butch, pointing to the parallel tracks that stretched out into the distance. “See those ruts that your horse is walking in? Took a lot of wagons to make them that hard. Thousands of families moving west with kids, dogs and everything they owned. Lookin’ for somethin’ better.”

  “Yuh seem tuh k
now a lot about this trail,” Mike observed, still keeping his eye on the black stallion in front of them.

  “Well, my people traveled over it but they weren’t headin’ for Oregon, they were going to Utah. Course they didn’t know it at the time.”

  “They didn’t know where they were goin’?”

  “Naw, they were waitin’ for ole Brigham Young to pick the spot.”

  “You’re uh Mormon,” said Mike, sounding surprised.

  “Well, I was raised one, but I sort of got away from the church.”

  “I guess yuh got a long ways away,” said Mike. “You’re uh known outlaw.”

  “But he’s never killed anyone,” Elzy chimed in across Butch’s saddlehorn. The loquacious cowboy did not like to be left out of any conversation.

  “I dun’t know if that’s a blessin’ with what we’re going up against,” said Mike.

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Butch assured him. “If it ever comes down to it, I’ll pull the trigger. There’s just no reason to kill a man if it can be avoided by good planning.”

  “Butch believes in surprise,” said Elzy. “He likes to have the drop on them before they even think about going for their guns.”

  “Well, I’m on the right side of the law now, so if I have to plug somebody, maybe the Man up above will take that into account.” He cocked his head and gave a sidelong glance towards the heavens.

  “The law,” sneered Elzy. “After all the politicians butcher it, it becomes a big bloated carcass. You get a lawyer and push it on top of the other guy and suffocate him before he does the same to you. Look what’s happening up in Johnson County. Who’s the law there? You got a bunch of rich cattlemen taking the law into their own hands while the Governor looks the other way. Why? Cause their money put him in office. Now they hired a bunch of Texas assassins to do the dirty work and they call them regulators. On the other side you got a duly-elected sheriff supported by a bunch of small time cattle thieves. Who’s the real law?”

  “I been an offeecer of duh law fer ten years and I ain’t never heard ov uh regulater,” Mike replied. “So duh law is the duly elected sheriff and duh law is duh law.”

  “Bullshit,” Elzy shouted, leaning forward to get around Butch. “The law is with who has the most guns and that’s usually who has the most money. The law is a maverick. It’s for whoever put their brand on it last.”

  “Hey, look up there,” said Butch. He was tired of being the man-in-the-middle. “You see that flash of white? A mulie just run up that hill.”

  The observation of a small mule deer bounding up the hill quickly took Elzy’s mind from the philosophical to the practical. The animal tried to hide behind some greasewood, but its long ears stuck up over the plant and gave its location away.

  “Some venison would go good tonight,” Elzy concluded. “All we got is hardtack and beans.”

  “Yeah,” said Butch. “What if a snowstorm catches us in those mountains like that Donner party? We’ll end up gnawing on each other. You’d better go shoot that critter before she decides to go over the hill.”

  “Good idea, Butch, but you outah go. You’re the best rifle shot. Besides we don’t have time for me to butcher it. You’re a butcher by trade.”

  “I’ll tell you what. You hunt her and I’ll butcher her. She ain’t very big. You can throw her over your horse and catch up to us in no time.”

  “What ever yuh do,” said Mike, “be quick about it.”

  “Okay,” Elzy conceded, pulling his Winchester from its scabbard.

  “The winds coming over the top of the hill, so if you ride into the little stand of trees along the river, you can probably sneak close enough to get a decent shot.”

  “Damn it, I know I got to be downwind,” Elzy protested. “Don’t tell me how to hunt a deer. If you’re so smart, you do it.”

  “Okay, okay, just be careful. You don’t know what spooked it out of the trees.”

  “We spooked her out of the trees with all our yakkin’,” said Elzy.

  “I don’t think so,” said Butch.

  “Why’d we stop!” shouted Jack. He and Luke had doubled back to see what the holdup was.

  “Elzy here is just gonna pick us up some fresh meat for the road,” said Butch.

  “The hell he is!” declared Jack. “We’re crossing the river and going north from here. Out of the valley through that break in the cliff up there. Then right between those two peaks. I’m the only one that knows the pass and nobody’s leaving the posse now.”

  Such pronouncements by people of dubious authority rankled Elzy’s free-spirited nature.

  “To hell with you,” he shouted at Jack. “Nobody put you in charge.”

  “Well, he’s right, Elzy,” Butch conceded. “Probably best we stay together.”

  “You don’t think I can kill that deer and find your trail again?” Elzy shouted at Jack. “That damn twitchy stallion you’re riding makes enough tracks for ten horses.”

  “Elzy, you were right the first time,” said Butch, suddenly wheeling his horse around and pulling his Winchester. “I’ll go kill the damn deer and butcher her where she falls. That’s the fastest way.” Before anyone could argue with him, he whipped his pony and rode towards the trees along the river.

  Butch dismounted about forty yards from the stand of pines and proceeded cautiously on foot. He did not know what had provoked the deer to take flight. They were at a distance that a deer would normally just hold its cover. Something else must have spooked it. In case it was a mountain lion, he didn’t want to be shooting at it on horseback. He knew his black mare wasn’t gun-shy, but he was not sure of the buckskin filly he had traded her for. He had not survived as long as he had by taking chances.

  As he moved slowly into the trees, he was keeping one eye on the rabbit-like ears of the mule deer. If he could get a quick shot off and just take the hindquarter, he could be back with the posse in less than an hour. He was already second-guessing the wisdom of leaving all those disparaging personalities together for any length of time. Mike was hardheaded, but he was sensible, so Butch hoped that he would keep things from getting out of hand.

  When he reached the bank of the river, he saw something that made him forget all about the hunt. It was a pile of fresh horse manure. He crouched down behind a tree for a minute and listened to hear if he had any company before he moved closer to the pile; it was still steaming. Whoever had been here had just left a few minutes ago. The ground was covered with hoof prints and the scuffed markings of a few men. One ominous impression was the butt of a rifle that had been smashed against the ground. The odd thing was the wagon tracks. This wasn’t good country to be off the trail in a wagon.

  Butch followed the wagon tracks down to the river where they disappeared into the rapid water. The river was beginning to get some spring melt and crossing it in a wagon had to be treacherous. If they were trying to avoid the posse, they would have just moved downriver without crossing. He looked at the opposite side of the river and saw Jack and Luke leading Mike and Elzy out of the trees that lined the bank and up towards the rock cliffs that rimmed the valley. Butch hunkered down close to the water and stared at the trees on the opposite bank. The river was too noisy to hear anything so he had to rely on his sight. A flock of sage grouse took flight. A few minutes later a group of three men broke out of the trees as they ascended the valley wall. They were making a straight line towards the posse. There were two on horseback and one in a buggy drawn by two horses. He understood the wagon tracks now. Even at this distance, Butch could tell the man in the buggy was too big for a horse to carry him. His concern now was that they had seen him break away from the posse and had a man stationed with a rifle waiting for him to cross the river.

  Ever cautious, Butch went back to his horse and backtracked a couple hundred yards before crossing the Sweetwater. As he came up the opposite bank, he dismounted and hid in the pine trees growing near the water. The mysterious trio was heading directly for the twenty-foot wide break
in the cliffs that Jack had just lead the posse through. Who were these guys? They didn’t appear to be locals. They wore those Russian fur hats like the Eastern cattlemen were fond of in the winter. Had they been waiting in ambush for them? Butch thought of the imprint of the rifle butt he had found on the ground. What else? But why? Maybe they were just after him and Elzy. It would be no surprise to anyone if they were on the regulator’s dreaded death list.

  Butch pulled his Winchester from its scabbard and contemplated the three as they labored to get the buggy up the rock-strewn draw. They were mighty determined to catch up to the posse but were making slow progress. If Elzy was not too busy running his mouth, he might notice them. That was just an outside chance. He thought of popping off a shot, but three against one were never good odds. Besides, he reasoned, what if it were just a case of mistaken identity.

  Butch studied the cliffs that rimmed the valley and spotted another passageway that a man and horse might be able to squeeze through about a quarter mile west of the rock-covered draw. It was in a direct line with the two peaks where Jack said his pass was. If he could make it through, he might be able to cut across the posse’s trail and get to them before the three uninvited visitors.

  CHAPTER 18

  UNEXPECTED COMPANY

  Jack had led the posse high into the mountains towards his pass between the twin peaks. The trees were becoming few and sparse as they moved into a boulder field that had slid off the side of the mountain. He was surprised when Butch rode out ahead of them from behind a rock that was large enough to conceal both horse and rider.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” shouted Jack. “How did you get ahead of me?”

  Nice greeting, thought Butch. The first day was not over and he was already tiring of the arrogant young rancher.

  “There was another way through the cliffs in the valley,” Butch said with a smirk. “I looked up and spotted it right off. It was on a straighter line to the twin peaks so I figured I could cut across your trail and pick you up.”