Devil's Kin

by Charles G. West

  Racing along the path, he galloped until it led along a clear stretch of riverbank. He pulled up then with Roach right behind him. Waiting until the boat again caught up to them, he stood up in the stirrups and waved his hat over his head. Realizing then what Leach had in mind, Roach followed suit, waving his arm back and forth and yelling out. With both men yelling, they finally attracted a deck hand’s attention. He waved back.

  “We need a ride!” Leach called out between cupped hands, but the deck hand couldn’t understand what he was saying. “We can pay for it!” Leach yelled. The deck hand was still unable to understand. Their yelling had caught the attention of the pilot in the wheelhouse, and he waved at the two horsemen. Leach reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a wad of the stolen money. He waved it over his head. This served to bridge the gap of confusion between boat and riders. The pilot pointed upstream, and motioned. “Come on,” Leach said to Roach. “There must be a landing up ahead.”

  The trail turned abruptly, leading back through the trees, away from the water’s edge, but Leach held his horse to a gallop, confident the path led to a landing of some sort. His confidence was justified when the two riders suddenly emerged from the forest to discover a wide clearing that led down to the river. Reining the horses back to a walk, they rode past piles of neatly stacked wood, tended by a couple of Cherokee Indians, who stared at the strangers openly. Ignoring their presence, Leach and Roach rode on down to a bluff that formed a natural levee. Within seconds, the paddlewheel appeared from around the bend, inching her way close into the bank.

  “By God, she’s a rough-lookin’ old bitch,” Roach commented with a wide grin. “She don’t look much like them riverboats back in New Orleans, does she?”

  Leach didn’t answer, but watched with casual interest as the two Cherokees caught a couple of lines thrown to them and secured the boat to the levee. Roach’s comment had been sadly accurate, for the Pandora had certainly seen better times. Her wooden hull, scarred and worn, the sternwheel packet plied a short route between Fort Smith and Fort Gibson, carrying freight and an occasional passenger. The heyday of riverboat traffic was long gone since the railroad had come to the territory. None of this mattered to the two outlaws. They saw the battered old boat as a welcome convenience to take them upriver.

  “You boys lookin’ for a ride to Fort Gibson?”

  Leach glanced at Roach and grinned before answering the bulky, sandy-haired boat captain. Until that moment, he had no idea where the boat went. “I reckon we are,” he replied, “if that’s where you’re goin’.”

  The captain extended his hand as he stepped ashore to greet the two outlaws. “My name’s Harvey Tanner,” he said. “I’m the captain of this vessel. I don’t usually stop to take on wood until we start back from Fort Gibson, but I seen you fellers needed a ride.” In truth, Tanner would have pulled the boat over for any occasion that might bring in a few dollars. At the moment, he was trying to evaluate his potential passengers to determine how much he could charge them. They were a surly-looking pair, dusty and unshaven. Their clothes were rough and worn. Yet one of them had waved what appeared to be a sizable roll of currency. Probably ill-gotten, he decided, but that was no concern of his. After studying the two for a few moments more, he decided to take a stab at it. “Passage for you and your horses to Fort Gibson will cost you fifty dollars”—when Leach showed no sign of protest, Tanner quickly added—“apiece.”

  This brought a reaction, although mild. A slow grin crept across Leach’s face. He didn’t know how far it was from this point to Fort Gibson, but he could recognize a fellow crook when he met one. Looking Tanner straight in the eye, he asked, “When will we get to Fort Gibson?”

  “Before nightfall tomorrow,” Tanner replied.

  “It ain’t that far then, is it?” Leach responded, stroking his chin whiskers thoughtfully. “I woulda figured me and my partner here coulda rode all the way down to Fort Smith and back again for fifty dollars apiece. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Since it ain’t gonna put you out none to give us a ride, I’ll give you twenty dollars for your trouble.”

  “Damn, mister, that ain’t hardly the goin’ rate,” Tanner complained.

  Roach, quiet to that point while he watched the negotiations, spoke up then. “Hell, there ain’t no goin’ rate. The goin’ rate is what me and Leach are willin’ to give for a boat ride. That’s the goin’ rate.” He favored the captain with a broad smile. “All the same to me, I’d just as soon ride my horse to Fort Gibson.”

  “You fellers drive a hard bargain, but I reckon I could do it this one time for twenty dollars gold.”

  Leach shook his head and grinned. “Gold? Do you see us leadin’ any packhorses? Twenty Union dollars is what we’ll pay.”

  “I don’t know.” Tanner hesitated, hoping Leach would up the offer. When Leach shrugged as if to turn away, the captain quickly agreed. “All right, then, but I ain’t carrying no grain or nothin’ for them horses.”

  Leach winked at Roach as he peeled off twenty dollars and handed them to Tanner. Roach nodded, confident that, if the opportunity presented itself, they would most likely regain the money when they got to Fort Gibson—plus any pocket money the captain might be carrying. They led their horses up the gangway and onto the deck of the Pandora, settling themselves near the twin boilers. “That damn half-breed will have a helluva time following us now,” Leach said as they unsaddled the horses.

  Roach laughed. “He’s most likely on his way to Kansas City and lookin’ hard for our trail.” Both men would have found it hard to believe that their half-breed partner was more likely taking a boat ride himself—across the river Styx.

  * * *

  “Looks like they mighta met up with somebody,” Jordan speculated as he knelt down to examine a trail of hoofprints that intercepted those of the two horses they had been tracking.

  Perley moved up beside him to take a look for himself. After studying the tracks for only a few seconds, he spoke. “Nah, these horses come along after our boys passed over this little knoll.” He raised his head, looking around in all directions, as if expecting to see someone before returning his attention to the scattering of hoofprints. “Most likely a Cherokee huntin’ party,” he said. “We’re in their territory now.” He traced the outline of one of the prints with a gnarled finger. “These tracks is fresh. See how the edges crumbles off when I touch ’em? Our boys passed here some time before these Injuns come along.”

  “How do you know they’re Injuns?” Jordan asked.

  Perley looked at him, as if answering a child’s question, but he was patient in his reply. “’cause these prints is smaller than the ones we’ve been following since mornin’—Injun ponies, I expect. They ain’t shod—coulda been rode by white men, but seein’ as how we’re smack-dab in the middle of the Cherokee nation, I expect they was Injuns.”

  Jordan did not reply, but Perley could see that his new friend was listening with close attention—a quality that Perley found admirable. Jordan seemed to absorb any tidbit of information that Perley offered. He watched as Jordan traced the outline of the hoofprint with his finger, then traced the older track of one of the shod horses. He didn’t know buttermilk biscuits from moose shit when I first met him, but he damn sure learns fast, Perley thought.

  “They’re still headin’ straight northwest,” Jordan said, getting to his feet.

  Perley nodded. “Straight for the Arkansas River,” he said.

  * * *

  It was late afternoon when Jordan and Perley reached the banks of the Arkansas and led the horses down to the river’s edge to drink. The river was wide at this point, the water dark and deep. Standing in the shade of a large oak, Jordan might have found the scene idyllic had he been there under different circumstances. But he was thinking that Sarah would have loved to see this peaceful river—a thought that brought back the sadness that dominated his conscious mind. He immediately called his thoughts back to the business at hand. The tracks they had been following
led back to the west, along a path that ran along the river’s edge. He turned to Perley. “Have you ever been up this river before?”

  Perley snorted in reply. “Oh, I’ve been up it all right—up it and down it. I’ve been up this river all the way to the Rockies, I expect. She looks calm and peaceful here, but I’ve been where she’s cantankerous—white water and rapids—but that’s a helluva ways from where we’re standin’. I expect these polecats we’re followin’ are most likely headed for Fort Gibson. That’s about two days’ ride from here. They coulda took the road the army built between Fort Smith and Fort Gibson—mighta been quicker than following this little path.”

  “I expect we’d better get goin’ then,” Jordan replied, and stepped up into the saddle.

  Following the narrow path along the river, they rode for the better part of two hours before emerging from the trees into a wide clearing. “Firewood for the steamboats,” Perley observed, pointing to the stacks of wood near the water’s edge. There was no sign of anyone around. “The Cherokees pick up a little money, cuttin’ firewood for the boilers. From the looks of it, this must be a regular stop for the boats.”

  There were many tracks in the clearing, too many to follow two particular horses, so they rode across to pick up the trail where the path continued on along the river. There were tracks along the path, but they were older, and they were unshod. It was apparent that Roach and Leach had not continued along the riverbank. “Looks like they went for a boat ride,” Perley said, stating the obvious.

  * * *

  The journey to Fort Gibson took less than two days, due mainly to Jordan’s growing impatience to finish his quest. As long as he and Perley had been able to track the remaining two of Sarah and Jonah’s killers, he had felt confident that he held a hand on their destiny. Tracks he could see—he could reach down and touch them. He could tell from the smoldering ashes of their campfires that he was closing the distance between himself and the men who had ended his world. Now, no longer able to see their hoofprints, he and Perley had continued along the river trail, often at a lope, stopping only occasionally to rest the horses. Jordan fought hard within himself to maintain his patience, but without visual evidence of the outlaws’ trail to assure him, he feared that he may have lost them for good.

  Perley understood the urgency that ate away at his young friend’s soul. There were few demons that could drive a man as relentlessly as the craving for vengeance. He found himself fearing for Jordan’s life, however. Remembering the complete abandon Jordan had displayed when he charged headlong into Snake, Perley was afraid such reckless abandon might cause Jordan to sacrifice his life. He found that he had developed a strong liking for the quiet young man, and he would hate to see him throw his life away in a moment of crazed passion. There were other concerns as well. Perley was a sensible man, and he also had some concern that he might be caught in the hail of bullets that could very well result due to a sudden sighting of the two outlaws. Consequently, on the few occasions they stopped to rest the horses, he tried to counsel Jordan on the importance of caution when dealing with lawless men such as the two he sought. Jordan would listen, quietly absorbing Perley’s words of advice, but the dark, deep-set eyes offered no clue as to whether or not he heeded them.

  “Been a good while since I was last in this part of the territory,” Perley announced upon reaching the Three Forks area. “It’s shore changed a helluva lot.” This observation was partly as a result of the homesteads and farms they had passed along the river. “Years ago, this place was busier than a beehive with trappers and traders. This used to be big country for beaver, but not no more.”

  Jordan listened patiently, but he was not really interested in the history of the region. His mind was occupied with the prospect of catching up with the two outlaws. In spite of this, he could not help but be impressed by the Three Forks area. Two rivers, the Verdigris and the Neosho, emptied their waters into the Arkansas within a half mile of each other. They still had three miles to go, however, before reaching Fort Gibson on the east bank of the Neosho, and the sun was sinking fast. Without responding to Perley’s comments, he turned the chestnut’s head and started out on the road to Fort Gibson, leaving Perley to follow.

  In the fading dusk, the two riders headed for the lights of the town, bypassing the fort itself. The two outlaws they were searching for would hardly have any business with the military. Jordan was surprised to find the little town near the army post to be a fairly busy place with several buildings along a main street. Passing a saloon, he saw a couple of soldiers entering the wide swinging doors. Down toward the stables at the end of the street, he spotted a few individuals going and coming in the doors of the various business establishments. There was no evidence of two outlaws. He had to silently reprimand himself for being so naive as to think he would spot the two as soon as he reached the town. He didn’t even know what they looked like.

  “We can put the horses up at the stable,” Perley said, “then get us a room at the hotel yonder.” Not burdened with the heavy weight that constantly dominated Jordan’s mind, he was looking forward to first-class accommodations while in Fort Gibson. Thinking of the roll of bank money in his saddlebags, he had already decided that the good citizens of Fort Smith would be happy to stand him and his young friend to a comfortable stay in Fort Gibson. His suggestion surprised Jordan, who naturally assumed they would find a place outside of town to camp. He started to express it, but Perley cut him off before he got the words out of his mouth. “I ain’t ever been able to afford to stay in a real hotel, and this might be my last chance. We’ve got this stolen money. Ain’t no sense in just carryin’ it around in my saddlebags.”

  Jordan thought for a moment to protest and remind his gnarled old friend that the money wasn’t theirs to spend. But on second thought, he realized that neither he nor Perley might ever set foot in Fort Smith again. Besides, he reminded himself, he had told Perley to do what he wanted with the money when they discovered it in Snake’s saddlebags. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Perley probably deserved to have a little money to spend. So Jordan held his tongue and continued down the rutted street toward the stables.

  Pulling up before the stables, they were met by a young boy as they dismounted. “Evenin’, gents,” the boy greeted them, looking the two strangers over with unabashed curiosity. “Lookin’ to put your horses up?”

  “That’s right, son,” Perley replied enthusiastically. “We want ’em took care of, stall and feed.”

  “We ain’t got no empty stalls right now. I’ll have to put ’em in the corral.”

  “Reckon that’ll do then,” Perley said. “Ol’ Sweet Pea might get nervous cooped up in a stall, anyway.”

  Noticing the blacksmith’s forge next to the stable, Jordan said, “I think my horse has a loose shoe. I’d like to get him shod. It’s way past time.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy replied. “We can take care of him. Pa does the shoeing. Most likely he’ll be able to do it first thing in the mornin’.”

  “Better look at my packhorse, too,” Jordan said. He had no idea what condition the horse’s shoes were in. He hadn’t thought to look.

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said, standing back to watch while the two strangers took their saddlebags and rifles off the horses. “You fellers are new in town, ain’tcha?”

  Jordan answered. “That’s right. I guess you see a lot of strangers passin’ through every day. Seen anybody else passin’ through lately?”

  “Well, not every day,” the boy replied, scratching his head as if trying to recall. “A couple of fellers come in yesterday on Captain Tanner’s steamboat. Pa put their horses in the corral.”

  Jordan felt the muscles in his arms tightening and a quickening of his heartbeat. He glanced at Perley, who was watching his reaction. Perley gave him a brief nod, then asked the boy, “Which horses is theirs?”

  “That big bay and the dun yonder with the black stockin’s,” the boy answered, pointin
g to one and then the other. His curiosity aroused by the strangers’ interest in the horses, he asked, “Are they friends of you’rn?”

  “You might say that,” Perley replied and smiled for the boy’s benefit. His eyes focused on Jordan now, he watched his young friend carefully, almost afraid Jordan might suddenly shoot the horses that had carried his wife’s killers. But there was no sign of the violent rage Perley had witnessed when Snake was executed. Despite the steady calm Jordan exhibited in his unblinking gaze at the two horses pointed out in the fading evening light, Perley knew the fire was building inside his friend. “Well, son,” he said, seeking to diffuse the storm brewing inside Jordan’s mind, “you take good care of our horses.” Turning to Jordan, he said, “Let’s you and me go find us some supper and a room.”

  Jordan didn’t respond for a moment, his mind deep in thought. It was only when Perley gave him a tug on the shoulder that he realized what the old man had said. “All right,” he then replied softly. Turning to the boy, he asked, “What did they look like—these two strangers?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered, trying to recall some features that made Leach and Roach different from other strangers. “They looked about like everybody else. One of ’em was a big feller—I don’t know. I think they took a room up at the hotel.”

  “Obliged,” Jordan said after waiting for a moment to see if the boy remembered anything else. He then turned and followed Perley out of the stable.

  * * *

  As the old trapper and his partner walked away toward the Cherokee Hotel, a dark figure stepped from the deep shadows in the back corner of the stable near the tack room. “Dang!” young Tommy Irwin exclaimed, startled by the sudden appearance of Roach right before him. Jumping backward a step, he dropped the saddle he had just picked up to take to the tack room. “Dang, mister, you gave me a fright. I didn’t know you was back there.”