by Neil Hunter
Reissuing classic fiction from the 1970s, 80s 90s and Beyond!
Brigham, Seth and Jacob Tyler came to the Colorado badlands in search of gold. They found it all right — but they also found it took a deal of holding onto. There were violent killers ready to take it from them . . . and the three brothers would have to match bullet for bullet for each of them to retain his wealth, and forge his own way in life.
BRIGHAM’S WAY
First Published by Herbert Jenkins Limited in 1976, under the pseudonym ‘Matt Jordon’
Copyright © 1976, 2007 by Neil Hunter
Published by Piccadilly Publishing at Smashwords: November 2012
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading the book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Cover image © 2012 by Westworld Designs
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
Chapter One
Late of a hot, dry day in mid-summer we came up the rough trail and drew rein on the crest of a slope, looking down on the booming gold-camp of Hope, Colorado. We had ridden some considerable distance that day and were glad to have finally reached our destination.
There were five of us, including myself. My name is Brigham Tyler, late by thirteen years of the county of Lancashire in England, and with me were my brothers Seth and Jacob. The other two who made up our number were an old-timer named Sachs, one of the hard luck prospectors who’d been doing the rounds for more years than even he could remember, and Joel Welcome, a young man fresh from the East, come to try his luck in the goldfields.
We were a dusty, dirty group on equally dusty horses. We were tired and hungry, having been on the trail for over a week, and all we wanted now were baths and some food. Chance was that we might get neither, for gold camps were not exactly overly concerned with these priorities. Not that we expected the height of luxury. All we needed was water to wash with and food to eat. Somewhere in the mushrooming town of buildings and tents we might find what we wanted.
Setting our mounts down the dust-thick trail we shortly brought ourselves into Hope and rode along the crowded main street. There were men everywhere, of every shape and size, and of a mixture of nationalities. We heard snatches of conversations in half a dozen languages before we were halfway down the street. There was an air of excitement about the place that was felt the moment we entered, and I could hardly hold back my own enthusiasm.
As we rode by a large, gaudy wooden building Sachs drew rein. He slid from his saddle and led his horse over to the hitch-rail, making room for his animal.
‘I figure this is where I’ll take my leave of you boys,’ he said. ‘I got me a terrible thirst that needs seein’ to!’
Seth glanced up at the saloon’s big sign. He ran a big hand across his own dry lips and it seemed he might join Sachs. Then he saw me watching him and his unshaven face split into a wide grin. ‘No. You’re right, Brig. A bath and a meal first.’
‘I guess we’ll see you around, Mister Sachs,’ I said.
‘Why you surely will, boy,’ the old man said. ‘Now you fellers take it easy. We come a way together an’ I like you, so don’t get in any trouble. Camps like this have some pretty mean characters wandering around.’
‘We’ll watch out,’ I told him, and raised a hand as Sachs turned and went into the saloon.
Jacob had stopped a passing miner and was asking the way to go about getting a bath and a shave. We were in luck it appeared. A barbershop had opened a week ago and it had a bathhouse out back. If a man had the money to pay he could get himself as clean as he wanted. It sounded alright so we made our way down the crowded street until we reached the barbershop.
We dismounted and tied our horses, took our rifles and went into the place. It had been built of raw lumber and you could smell the unseasoned wood. It was not unpleasant. Inside it smelled of soap and hair oil and boiling water. There was one man being shaved and another waiting. The barber glanced up as we entered, and I wondered what he thought as he saw us, for we must have looked a sight with our shaggy hair and unshaven faces.
‘Take a seat, boys,’ he said, ‘and I’ll be with you directly.’
‘Anybody using the bath-house?’ Jacob asked.
‘No. You boys want to give her a try?’
‘You said it.’
The barber gave a shout and a small, moon-faced Chinese came out of the back. ‘Four customers, Lee. By the looks of ‘em you better get a heap of water to boiling!’
The Chinese grinned. He was all teeth. ‘All come,’ he sing-songed, and we followed him through to the rear of the barbershop.
The bathhouse was just an extension containing a large, wood-fired boiler and four large wooden tubs big enough to take two men each. The Chinese yelled something in his own tongue and two more of his compatriots appeared. The three of them began to hurry around with buckets of boiling water.
We stood and watched them for a while. Then Seth put down his rifle and started in to take his boots off.
‘Hell,’ he said, ‘we didn’t come to watch.’
That did it, and before long the four of us were out of our clothes and hopping around in water hot enough to curl your toes. The Chinese handed us blocks of rough yellow soap. It took a lot of scrubbing to get a lather, but it was worth it, for by the time we emerged our naked bodies were as pink as boiled lobsters. While we’d washed the Chinese had taken our clothes outside and had done a fair job of cleaning off the dust that had collected.
Dressed again we went back into the barbershop and took turns to be shaved and trimmed. When we finally stepped out onto the street again we looked and felt like different men.
‘I can face a meal now,’ I said.
‘There’s a place across the street,’ Jacob said.
We crossed over and went inside. It was no more than a large tent that housed long tables and benches, with food prepared down at the far end. The place wasn’t too busy and we had plenty of room.
A thin-faced man with deep-set eyes and pale hair shuffled listlessly over to us. ‘What you got?’ I asked.
‘Beans an’ venison.’
Now I’m not averse to beans or venison, but we’d eaten little else for the past week, and the thought of more of the same was by no means welcome. I heard Jacob groan.
‘You got anything else?’
He shook his head. ‘No. You want it?’
I glanced round the table. Nobody said a word. ‘We’ll have it. For four,’ I said. ‘And plenty of coffee.’
‘I think Sachs had the best idea,’ Seth remarked. ‘Hell, I’d have thought they’d have some beef.’
‘Don’t even mention beef,’ Jacob grumbled. He slumped forward on the table and stared out at the busy street. ‘I wonder if they got any women in this town?’
I grinned. Jacob was a real ladies man. Not that you’d think so when you saw him, for he was not what you’d call handsome. However, he was big, like both Seth and me, and he had a natural way about him that was liable to have the ladies flocking round like ants at a honeypot. Seth was steadier with women, and me, being the youngest, though interested, I was still awkward in their presence.
Joel, who had been staring out at the street since we’d sat down, said: ‘There’s one, Jacob,’ and he pointed.
We all glanced up. Joel was right. Across the s
treet a dark-haired girl in a yellow dress was strolling casually along, and even from this distance it was plain that she was a pretty good-looking female.
'Keep my beans warm,’ Jacob said, pushing to his feet. He glanced round at Seth and me, grinning at us. ‘I’ll be back.’ He stepped away from the table and left the tent, crossing the busy street with long strides. He reached the girl and we saw him sweep his hat off in a grand gesture. For a moment he stood talking to the girl, and then they moved off up the street, out of our sight, with the girl hanging onto Jacob’s arm like she’d known him for years.
That Jacob!’ Seth grinned. ‘I tell you, Brig, women will bring him nothing but trouble.’
I smiled. ‘He’s already found that out, but it doesn’t stop him. Anyway, Seth, he’s full grown. He knows his own mind so don’t worry over him.’
Our food came then and we put aside conversation to concentrate on eating. The beans were tasteless and the venison not as fresh as it could be. If we hadn’t been as hungry as we were I don’t think we would have touched the stuff. Even the coffee was bitter, but at least it was hot and strong. We emerged from the place with full stomachs but little satisfaction.
‘What do we do now, Seth?’ I asked. By this time we had climbed back onto our horses.
‘I figure we should find someplace to make camp for tonight. Somewhere out of town. Come morning we’ll start and look for a place to stake our claim.’
‘What about Jacob?’ Joel asked.
‘I’ll find him,’ Seth said. ‘You two go and have a look round town. I’ll take Jacob’s horse and let him know what we’re going to do. He can join us later.’
He took the reins of Jacob’s horse and led off back up the street, leaving me and Joel to our own devices.
‘You feel like a drink?’ I asked.
Joel nodded. His eyes were bright with excitement as he stared around. I knew how he felt, for I was eager for a look myself. We rode along the street until we spotted a likely saloon. We hitched our horses, took our rifles with us, and went inside.
The place was crowded and we had to shove our way to the bar, which was nothing more than planks on the top of empty beer kegs. Finding a space we squeezed in and I ordered a couple of beers. I’d never taken to hard liquor and Joel would drink nothing but beer. When it came we drank deeply, for we both had a strong thirst.
I gazed around me. Whoever owned this place must have been making himself a tidy pile of money and it came to me then that digging up the gold was only one way to get rich. Supplying the needs of the miners, whether it was drink or food or tools, was an aspect of Hope that needed studying. I’d come here with the intention of looking for gold, but that didn’t rule out taking other things into consideration. I had made myself a promise some years back that I was going to make my way in this country. I had no intention of wasting my life, and while I was not over-educated, I did have a sound outlook on life and I’d learned a long time ago to keep my eyes open, to watch and learn and remember.
A sudden outburst of noise caught my attention. Over on the other side of the saloon a knot of men abruptly broke apart and I was able to see the cause of the upset. A card game had erupted into sudden violence and two men faced each other over the table. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was obvious that the two were in some disagreement. One of the men pointed at the cards on the table and mouthed something to the other. This one, scarlet-faced, stepped away from the table, his hand going to his right hip. Almost before we knew it guns were firing, the sound drowning every voice in the place. The scarlet-faced man pitched to the floor, his chest bloody, and his opponent clutched a hand to an arm that was limp and bleeding. As the gunfire died away men surged around the pair. The downed man, who was obviously dead, was picked up and carried out. The wounded victor left under his own steam, escorted by at least a dozen spectators. Within a couple of minutes the incident had been forgotten and the saloon returned to its noisy state.
I had seen my first boom-camp violence. I didn’t know it then but it would not be the last time I saw violence in Hope, nor did I know how deeply I would get myself involved in it. Had I known this I would not have been so unconcerned.
Joel was looking at me over his beer glass. His face was pale and he looked sick.
‘You alright?’ I asked.
‘First time I ever saw a man killed,’ he said.
‘Don’t let it bother you. Man isn’t human who doesn’t get sick at the sight of something like that.’ I finished my beer and put down my glass. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I suggested.
We took our leave of the saloon and got on our horses, turning them to take us out of town. As we moved off I caught sight of the signboard outside the saloon. It was called The Bucket of Blood!
A short ride got us clear of Hope and we found ourselves riding up into the hills. All around us were signs of the human invasion. Tents and small cabins were dotted here and there. There were wagons and rigs, horses and mules, and we even saw one wagon being drawn by a team of oxen. Smoke from scores of fires rose into the air. The lure of gold had brought people by the hundreds to Hope, and maybe for some of them that’s what it was. Hope! For the future. For a better life. And for some it would be. Some would find their dream, their pot of gold. But others would leave with no more than they had when they arrived, and in some cases they would leave with less.
We rode until we found a place that was fairly well untouched. A stream ran close by and there were trees. There was grass for the horses. We got down and tethered our mounts. I began to build a fire while Joel unsaddled. By the time he’d finished I had a good fire going. I went to the stream for water and put some coffee on to boil.
After that I sat down and rolled a smoke. Joel shook his head when I offered him the makings. He’d been pretty quiet since we’d left town and I asked what was troubling him.
‘You must think me yellow acting the way I did over that shooting,’ he said and I realized it had been preying on his mind.
I lit my smoke. Taking off my hat I ran my hand through my hair. ‘Joel, you are talking like a damn fool. I don’t think for one minute that you’re yellow. We’ve known each other long enough to be able to tell what the other’s like, and I know how you are. How do you think I feel? I’ll tell you. I felt the same as you. The same as I always feel when I see a man shot. I felt sick. Maybe I didn’t show it but I sure felt it. I felt it every time I saw a man shot during the war. A man sees enough he gets to accepting it but he still feels it inside. If he don’t then he ought to be dead himself, ‘cause when he can’t react it means he’s gone cold, lost his feelings, and that’s as good as being dead. Joel, don’t you let anyone tell you it’s yellow to show how you feel.’
He glanced at me, his face almost angry. ‘Brig, next time you tell me you have no education I’ll hit you! By God, I wish I’d had your chance at life!’
‘My chance? The only chances I got were the ones I took myself. Seth and Jacob and me come to this country thirteen years ago from England. I was nine when we jumped the ship we’d joined at Liverpool. We worked from the day we landed. Took any job that came along. Soon as we could we headed West and got in with any cow outfit that would tolerate us. Didn’t do too bad but then we didn’t do too well either. By the time I was fifteen I knew pretty well most there was to learn about cattle. About then we decided to try setting up on our own. Hadn’t been at it more’n a year when the war come along. I was nineteen when we joined the Union Army. I reckon we were lucky. We managed to stick together all the way through and we came out without anything more serious than a few odd scars here and there. When we got back home we found our spread wasn’t ours any more. We were down in Texas and while we’d been away a bunch of Comancheros had moved in. We had to fight them to get it back. I suppose we could have started again but the place was different. So we drifted for a while, got in a few scrapes, then heard about the strike here and decided to try our luck.’
I reached for a mug
of coffee. I needed it. Talking in such long sentences isn’t my strong suit, and I figured I’d made a considerable speech.
‘And that,’ I finished, ‘is my ‘chance’. I figure most folk could better it without trying. You foremost.’
‘You’re wrong, Brig,’ Joel said. ‘Alright, maybe I’ve the advantage of position, wealth, schooling, but I don’t think all of that put together can better what you’ve had. Experience, Brig. Experience. That’s what you’ve had and what I lack. All my life I’ve lived in my father’s shadow. He’s that kind of man. He dominates and smothers everything he owns and controls. Brig, in all my life I’ve never had to face a challenge, never had to come face to face with a situation that depended on my own judgment for its outcome.’ He stared down into the fire, his face bitter. ‘You talk about being in the war. I wanted to fight for my country but I wasn’t allowed. My father pulled strings so I was exempted from duty. I tried to join on my own but my father hired men to bring me back. I was watched until the war ended. Then my father decided it was time to call his watchdogs off. He had plans for me to join him. To get me ready to step into his shoes. He even told me he’d picked out the girl for me to marry. That did it. I’d had enough. I didn’t say anything. One night I packed my bag and left. I came West, and I made myself a promise that I wouldn’t go back until I’d made my way. Until I could meet my father on equal terms. Until I can tell him I don’t walk in any man’s shadow.’
I poured him a mug of coffee and handed it to him.
‘You’ll make it, Joel, so don’t fret.’
He took the coffee, his face relaxing now as he said, ‘You think so, Brig?’
‘Hell, yes. Couple of years from now you and me, why we’ll be able to buy and sell a place like Hope just for something to do.’
He grinned then, a laugh following, and I joined him. We were still laughing when Jacob and Seth rode into camp. They looked unusually grim and when I asked why my own good humor left me fast.
