Lords of the Plains

by Paul Bedford

  Nodding briskly, my companion tied one end of the line around his waist and slipped over the side. As we looked on, he struck out strongly for the bank, the rope uncoiling behind him. Nevertheless, in the grip of the current and burdened by his weapons, he soon found himself being carried downriver along with many others. Not all were good swimmers, and desperate pleas for help sounded off around the boat. Panic-stricken animals joining the throng compounded the mayhem.

  A few individuals, seeing the danger, decided to gamble on the depth of the river and risk staying on the boat. They headed for the upper deck and ultimately the wheelhouse. Rightly or wrongly I had made my choice, and that meant following Dan. He was now benefiting from being tethered to the heavy box, because it had acted as an anchor against the current, and was aiding his dash for the shore. I suddenly became aware that my boots were wet, and water was lapping at the strongbox. It was time to go.

  ‘Jump in,’ I barked at the terrified Indian trader, as I slung the Sharps across my back.

  ‘I changed my mind,’ he mumbled. ‘Those fellas up there might have the right of it, and I ain’t no fish.’

  ‘You are now,’ I opined, and gave him a solid shove.

  With a cry of alarm, Jase fell forward into the river. After a final glance at the strongbox I followed him in, and Christ but it was cold. Completely immersed, the chill momentarily took my breath away. Then my head and shoulders broke the surface and I kicked out vigorously. Yet something was badly amiss.

  ‘Jase, where are you?’ I yelled. Frantically twisting around in search of him, I just managed to avoid a fast-moving tree branch, before realizing with a sinking heart that the little shit was nowhere to be seen. Cursing, I ducked under the water, straining to catch sight of him. Unbelievably, there was just no sign. He had completely disappeared. I could only think that he had got into trouble under water and been carried off by the current.

  ‘Damn, damn, damn,’ I intoned. His worthless life meant nothing in the overall scheme of things, but he would have made a useful witness once we caught up with the ringleader. Now all we had was a box of Double Eagles . . . if we could get it ashore. After a last search, I followed in the thrashing wake of so many other shocked survivors. My sodden clothes and heavy weapons dragged at me, but finally I reached the west bank. Clawing at tufts of grass, I hauled my weary body out of the Missouri. That was one boat trip I wouldn’t forget in a hurry!

  As I drew in deep draughts of air thankfully, I searched for my friend. Surely he hadn’t succumbed as well? Then I spotted him, further up the bank towards Omaha. My hunt for Jase, coupled with the lack of a tether, meant that I had drifted further downriver with the current. My relief turned to admiration as I watched Dan vigorously hauling on the rope, which was mostly concealed under the surface. Knowing that I really should help him, I wearily got to my feet and plodded heavily towards him.

  ‘What happened to that little bastard?’ he queried as I finally joined him.

  ‘He didn’t make it,’ I remarked with self-serving regret. ‘The ball you put in him must have weighed too much.’

  ‘Hmm, a bit like these goddamn coins,’ he retorted breathlessly. ‘How about a little help here?’

  Together we heaved on the rope, and bit-by-bit the strongbox edged towards us on the river bottom. Sometimes it snagged on a rock, only to break free when we employed more effort. Further down the bank, men struggled ashore, gasping and exhausted, but we completely ignored them. We had far more important considerations. For what seemed an age, we kept on pulling, until quite suddenly the box appeared in the shallows. Amazingly it appeared to be undamaged.

  ‘Thank Christ for that,’ I exclaimed. Surely after all this, nothing else could go wrong.

  ‘We’ll be taking that now!’ The voice had a dangerous edge to it that hinted at deadly force backing it up. And so it proved.

  Warily, we both turned to view the speaker. He was a big fellow with the appearance of a barroom brawler, only in this case one who had taken a prolonged bath. His far smaller partner possessed a similar demeanour, and both men were covering us with cocked revolvers.

  ‘Looking at all the effort you both put in,’ the bruiser continued, ‘There must be an awful lot of something in that box. So what you’re gonna do is shuck all that iron you’re packing and just walk away.’ A faint smile played on his hard features, as though he was supremely confident that he held the upper hand. ‘That’s right. We ain’t even gonna kill you . . . unless you’re fool enough to turn ornery!’

  Dan and I glanced meaningfully at each other. There was no chance of any outside help. The soaking survivors of yet another river disaster had their own problems to think on. It was beginning to seem as if we had transgressed in a former life, and that it was now pay back time. Then something occurred to me that brought a smile to my face. Perusing the opportunist’s gun hand, I saw water dripping from it and came to a rapid conclusion.

  ‘Seems to me you’re overlooking something,’ I remarked coolly. ‘That Colt Army’s just had a prolonged ducking, and black powder really doesn’t take well to water. Even if the cap’s still sound, I reckon the chambers’ll be full of black paste by now.’

  I stared at him long and hard, until suddenly his left eye twitched ever so slightly, and I knew then that I had him. Without warning, I shrugged the captured Henry from my shoulder and levered up a round. ‘On the other hand, this long gun’s crammed full of copper cartridges that I loaded last Sunday.’ Since he completely missed my war veteran’s attempt at wry humour, I quickly continued with, ‘In time they might turn green, but right now I’d bet everything in this box that it’ll blow a hole in your addled skull.’

  His stoop shouldered crony, who so far hadn’t said a word, licked his lips nervously and exchanged a sidelong glance with his buddy. ‘You reckon he’s joshing with us?’

  ‘Shut your mouth!’ the plug-ugly snarled.

  ‘So, what’s it to be?’ I rasped.

  ‘Happen we might could have made a mistake,’ the leader finally allowed. Then, very carefully, he eased the hammer down. Mumbling something unintelligible, the other fellow followed suit.

  I nodded with satisfaction, but I wasn’t finished with them quite yet. ‘Anything that you’ve got that spits lead, in the river with it!’

  ‘Whaaat?’ exclaimed the would-be river pirate incredulously. ‘You can’t leave us defenceless. We might fall in with bad company.’

  ‘You already have,’ I remarked, and then lowering the Henry’s barrel, I squeezed the trigger. With a thoroughly satisfying crash, the rifle discharged. The bullet tore through the faded leather of his right boot and on into the ground, leaving bloody wreckage in its path.

  ‘You bastard,’ my victim howled. ‘You’ve shot my toe off!’ Such was his incandescent rage that he actually appeared ready to again chance his hand with the cap ‘n’ ball Colt.

  Rapidly working the lever action, I switched my aim to his other foot. ‘This really is a peach of a gun. So unless you want a matching pair, heave your iron into the river. Well out, so that it stays lost.’

  With tears in his eyes, the luckless fellow finally saw sense and tossed his revolver into the Missouri. Following his lead, his partner did the same and provoked a cry of outrage from an evacuee still struggling in the water. The heavy firearm had missed the swimmer by a hair’s breadth.

  ‘Now you two cockchafers get out of my sight,’ I commanded. ‘If I see you again, I’ll kill you!’

  Plainly seething with anger and resentment, the two men turned away and headed off upriver towards Omaha, watched by a crowd of bemused survivors. The big one hobbled badly and had to keep stopping to seek some relief.

  ‘Hot dang. You sure showed them,’ Dan crowed exultantly.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I did, didn’t I?’ I responded rather more pensively. ‘I just hope they don’t turn up as tracklayers at the railhead, or I might just have to come good on that threat.’

  Dan blinked with surprise at the prospec
t. ‘Yeah, well. They shouldn’t try robbing folks.’ He paused. ‘So, what happens now?’

  ‘Now, one of us walks to Omaha to rent a buggy, giving those two pus weasels a wide berth, of course. Although I reckon the one I hobbled will be sat with his foot in the river for a fair while. Whoever stays here guards this box against any more road agents and gets to have a rest.’ I favoured him with a sly smile that really should have given him pause. ‘We just have to decide as to who does what, is all.’

  ‘Let’s toss a coin,’ Dan suggested brightly. ‘Hell, we’ve got plenty of them. And besides, I’m feeling lucky!’

  As my companion trudged north unhappily, I sat on the strongbox and pocketed the double-headed dollar coin that I had purchased as a useful novelty whilst in the Union army. It hadn’t really been fair of me to take advantage of my friend, but I couldn’t resist a chuckle. He was younger than me and the exercise would do him good!

  All around me, the mostly male passengers were coming to a certain conclusion, and that was that they should maybe have stayed on the Bertrand. The steamboat had apparently settled on the bottom, with the wheelhouse and most of the upper deck still visible. The more affluent evacuees had left a great many possessions in the staterooms that those still on board could easily plunder.

  Then I caught sight of Captain Yore, observing me from the wheelhouse. Strangely, he was brandishing a sawn-off shotgun, which appeared to be for the sole benefit of the few remaining passengers. I could only presume that the deadly weapon was to enforce the rule of law on board. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist bellowing over to him. ‘Why did you order us to swim for it, when you must have known the depth of the water?’

  The captain took only a moment to consider. ‘Well, I’ll tell you, young fella,’ he hollered back. ‘This is one river man that don’t aim to die poor. I’ve got to say though, you did right well getting that box off of here and then keeping hold of it. It bespeaks of a great deal of wealth, and I reckon I’ll be the loser because of that.’ And with that he roared with laughter.

  ‘Well, it looks like you get our tallow for free, anyhu,’ I retorted. ‘That’s if you manage to salvage it.’

  That made him laugh all the louder, but since we had managed to keep hold of the gold, I decided that whatever scheme he had cooked up, good luck to him. If nothing else, he seemed like an amiable rogue. Then a far darker thought occurred to me. What if he had deliberately wrecked the Bertrand purely for personal gain? Now that really would be something to think on!

  Chapter Seven

  Darkness was falling by the time we reached Omaha, a fact that suited my purpose entirely. Whilst waiting for Dan to return, I had given our situation a deal of thought. Unfortunately, the negative aspects of it far outweighed the positive. We had survived our first mission for the Union Pacific’s Chief Engineer, and had a box of Double Eagles to show for it, but sadly I no longer knew whom I could trust. And that included General Dodge!

  Pitch torches flared in the street, and oil lamps flickered in the massive Cozzens House Hotel as we rode the buggy over to the livery stables that it had been hired from. The illumination favoured the frontier city with a warm glow that was entirely missing from my soul. I was beginning to formulate a plan of sorts, but felt myself to be inundated with potential enemies on all sides.

  Luckily for us, the arrival of the Union Pacific had changed Omaha irrevocably. It was now a bustling city of well over twenty thousand souls, and growing all the time. Seven steamboats were permanently employed on the Missouri River, bringing in rolling stock, supplies and ever more workers. All of this meant that anyone searching for us would have their work cut out. It was also a fact that for some people, simple needs always took priority.

  ‘I sure could use a drink of Old Red Eye,’ Dan announced with feeling. ‘It cuts through the dust better than all that damn river water I swallowed.’

  ‘Well, you might just have to wait a little bit longer for that,’ I responded regretfully. ‘We need to keep our heads down until I figure out what to do.’ Seeing his disappointment, I added, ‘It sure is a shame we didn’t get to remain in that stateroom, because I guess we’ll be sleeping in the livery tonight, but we’ll send a stable hand out to fetch a jug. How’s that sound?’

  His great beaming smile was acknowledgement enough, and despite the situation I had no option but to return it. Although he left all the decisions to me, I couldn’t have wanted for a better companion than Dan Sturgis. More than ever, I felt glad to have retained his friendship after our disagreement back at the railhead.

  It was later that evening when Dan’s whiskey finally arrived from a saloon on 9th Street, but that wasn’t the only thing that the old stable hand brought with him. He also had some very unsettling news.

  ‘You’re not the only fellas in town to have come off the Bertrand. There’s a lot of angry passengers getting liquored up and jawing on about lynching its captain. If they ever get to find him, that is. Seems he was in league with a gang of river pirates who fetched up in a boat to clean out the staterooms. Hee, hee. That tickled me when I heard it. There’s some folks you’ve just got to admire.’

  The grizzled old coot leered at us for a moment, as though pondering something. We were all ensconced in the semi-darkness of an empty stall, and he seemed in no hurry to resume his chores. ‘There’s also a story going around about two young men toting a box full of gold bars . . . or was it coins? Darned if I can remember. But anyhu, if all of that ain’t enough, there’s some real hard cases in town who seem to believe it. As though they was expecting them. The gold, that is.’ With that, he scratched his hairy chin and awaited our response.

  As my heart sank, I shook my head in dismay. Things just seemed to be going from bad to worse. ‘What’s your name, old-timer?’

  ‘Percy.’

  ‘Well, Percy,’ I began. ‘I guess I’ve got to ask whether you said anything to those hard cases, and if you haven’t yet, are you likely to be tempted to? No offence intended.’

  ‘None taken,’ he responded, before chuckling softly. ‘An’ you needn’t go sweating on my account. I’m too old to care about blood money, and talk of gold and shit like that. And I ain’t partial to bully boys throwing their weight around either. Besides, you seem like a couple of nice young fellas, even if you are dragging some kind of strongbox around with you. So I guess that all means they couldn’t buy me for money, marbles or chalk, but I right fancy a sip of that joy juice I’ve just fetched in for you.’

  Sighing with relief, it was my turn to chuckle. ‘Go right ahead and help yourself, Percy. In fact, take the whole jug and enjoy. We’re going to need clear heads tomorrow, so we’ve had our fill. Haven’t we, Dan?’

  My friend coloured slightly, before shrugging. ‘If you say so . . . I guess. Personally I was just getting a taste for it.’

  The stable hand got to his feet, jug in hand. ‘I’ll leave you boys to make your plans. What I don’t know can’t hurt me, huh?’ With that, he wandered off contently to the front of the livery. It was very obvious that he was left to his own devices for long periods of time, which suited me entirely.

  I shifted my gaze to Dan. ‘Seems to me that the safest place for us is at the railhead. I really don’t see Jack Casement being involved in all this, and I sure could use his advice.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Dan agreed. ‘But just how are we gonna get there, lugging this box about, an’ all?’

  I laughed, because that was the easy part. ‘By train, of course. We work for the Union Pacific, don’t we? We’ll spend the night in here, and then hitch a lift on the morning supply run.’

  Dan shook his head in mock wonder. ‘You always make it sound so easy, Josiah!’

  I was jerked awake from a sound shuteye by the sound of raised voices. Even though fogged with sleep, I was still able to recognize one of them.

  ‘You got no call waking me up like this,’ Percy protested, his words noticeably slurred.

  ‘You give us any trouble, old man,
an’ you won’t ever wake up again,’ came the uncompromising response.

  Instinctively I just knew that this intrusion had to be connected with us. As a deep chill settled on me, I crawled over to Dan and placed a hand firmly over his mouth. His eyes snapped open and he began to struggle, until he made out my features in the dim light.

  ‘Get to the back of the stall and under the hay,’ I whispered. ‘No shooting unless I say so.’

  As my friend complied, the unknown voice continued with, ‘You had any strangers in here today?’

  Percy’s head was obviously clearing, because he offered a quick retort. ‘This is a stables. We get folks coming and going every day.’ There was a momentary silence, followed by a sharp cry of pain.

  ‘Don’t get cute with me, gramps. I got questions that need answers, an’ if I don’t get the right ones, it’ll go badly for you.’

  Easing my head around the end of the stall, I peered over to the large open area near the front of the stables. Percy had been lying on a pile of hay near the entrance, sleeping off the free rotgut. Now he was on his feet, surrounded by three menacing figures. The leader of these thugs obviously knew his business, and that boded ill for the old stable hand . . . unless he disclosed our presence swiftly. And there really was no good reason why he shouldn’t do that.

  ‘You might not know this,’ continued his interrogator remorselessly, ‘but earlier today a steamboat ran aground just south of here. There’s talk of two survivors heading this way in a buggy, toting a real heavy box. And the only place in this burg that rents buggies is the livery. This livery! So I’m gonna ask you again: have you had any strangers in here today?’ The moment that he finished speaking, he nodded at one of his cronies. That man reacted by kicking Percy’s feet from under him, and the helpless liveryman collapsed to the floor. It took him a moment or two to recover his wind.

  ‘OK, OK, enough,’ he finally cried out loudly. ‘I’ll spill the beans.’