Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 31

  Mrs. Cooper

  After entering several saloons in town and exiting them even faster, Phillip walked into the Silver Dollar. He was not happy about having to visit yet another filthy den of unwashed barbarians who smelled of sweat, smoke, and farts. He also hated spending money on a brew he had no intention of drinking. This establishment however, he could feel almost comfortable in. Maybe it was because he had been in so many rotgut saloons that it just made this one seem so much better. Phillip quietly moved to the far corner of the bar, well away from any of the cowboys that may have tried to interact with him.

  “Bartender, Mr. Bartender may I ask you a few questions? I’m trying to find someone.”

  The bartender looked twice at the dude standing at the end of the bar. What you drinkin’?”

  “Well, beer, I guess?”

  The bartender reached down and grabbed a mug from behind the bar and filled it with a frothy liquid before placing it in front of Phillip. Then he leaned up against the bar across from him.

  “We don’t get a lot of fancy dudes in here,” said the bartender, as he looked Phillip over, trying to figure out whom he might be.

  “Who you lookin’ for, fancy dude?” inquired the bartender.

  “Well, my name is Phillip, but I guess that doesn’t much matter. I’m looking for a Mrs. Cooper. She should be in her mid forties, dark hair, attractive. She’s from Wisconsin and I believe she’s probably only been here a few months,” described Phillip.

  “I think I know the lady you’re talkin’ about. She’s rentin’ the little house on the east end of town. It’s a little white house with green shudders and flowers out front.”

  “You sure seem to know the place pretty well,” said Phillip.

  “I ought to. I used to live there until the owner tossed me out to let her rent it. She’s been here for about two months, I reckon. Pretty nice lady, but stays to herself quite a bit. That is, when the marshal ain’t around.”

  “What do you mean, when the marshal ain’t, I mean isn’t around?” asked Phillip.

  “Well, folks say she’s a widower and so is the marshal so I guess they’ve sort of struck up a friendship,” smiled the bartender.

  “Thank you, Sir,” said Phillip as he started out of the bar.

  “Hey, fancy dude, you didn’t drink any of your drink,” pointed out the bartender.

  “I wasn’t as thirsty as I thought I was,” finished Phillip as he stepped out the door and headed east up the street.

  Walking to the end of the block he spotted the little white house and moved across the street stopping at its small picket gate. Looking up and down the street to make sure no one saw him, he then stepped through the gate, walked up onto the porch and knocked softly at the door with his right hand. He heard footsteps approaching inside the house. The door opened slowly and a pretty face poked around the edge of the door.

  “Yes sir, may I help you?” said the lady of the house.

  “Mrs. Cooper, may I come in? I don’t know if you remember me from the mill in Wisconsin. But I’m here with Miss Samantha Foster and I need to talk to you. It involves your son.”

  -CKS-

  Having sat at the end of Laurie’s wagon all night, Ray was greeted by a clear sky as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. Richard had suffered most of the night with fever and pain, but quieted down some this morning and was still sleeping. They all knew it was still too early to get their hopes up.

  Ray had spent a good part of the evening telling Morgan about Wisconsin. About the mill and how Samantha Foster was probably responsible for Richard’s injuries. He told her that Foster was probably the one sending gunslingers after them, so it might not be safe for Morgan to be too close to them. After he finished telling her their story she sat silently for a few endless moments. Would she change her mind about him? After all, Ray had killed men in his pursuit to protect his Pa’s land.

  Finally, she spoke. “Ray, I know we have only known each other for a short while. I know there’s a lot we will learn about each other in time. When I first met you I thought you were another one of those stupid boys who thought of themselves as a ladies’ man or some kind of rugged cowboy. At least that’s what I thought before I really knew you. Now I know you are none of those things. Oh yes, you are a cowboy and you are a ladies’ man, in the way that you’re very handsome and ladies seem to really like you. But, as such, you didn’t ask for that reputation, they just come to you naturally. You were thrown into the frontier, into the West, where many disagreements are often settled with the drawing of fists or guns. Nothing you’ve told me has lessened how I feel about you. In fact, I think I love you even more.” After a long embrace, Ray had said goodnight to Morgan, leaving her at the back of Laurie’s wagon.

  Ray found John and Larry drinking coffee and having breakfast. He joined them and discussed an idea to help some of the wagons get up and over the rise just ahead of them. They agreed it was worth a chance, so they left the comfort of the fire and searched out Quincy to see what he thought. Quincy was finishing a cup of coffee near a fire closer to the front of the train.

  “Quincy, Ray here has an idea that we think just may help us out of here without having to wait for the trail to dry anymore,” spouted Larry with excitement as he slapped Ray on the back.

  “If it gets us going today, I’m all for it,” smiled Quincy, “What’s the idea boys?”

  “Well, yesterday we told you it was dry enough for the wagons on the other side of the ridge, right?”

  “Yes Ray, but it’s still wet and slippery on this side,” stated Quincy.

  “Okay, when we were up top I noticed there is a huge stump right at the top of the ridge right next to the trail. My thought was we hook up a block-n- tackle to that stump and run a couple ropes down this side of the slope. On top where it’s dry, we hook the other end of the ropes to a team of oxen. The wagons can start out under their own power but if they start to slip, the ropes’ll catch em’ and the oxen can help the wagon’s team the rest of the way up. We’re gonna have to go up the slope one at a time anyway to keep from havin’ one wagon slid back into another. The ropes would be added insurance and extra power.”

  Quincy scratched his head for a few minutes. Walked over to one of the wagon tongues and checked out the front portion. “Ray, I believe you got somethin’ there. Each of these wagons can be secured right here on the front of the tongue. When it gets to the top the rope is run down and the next one goes over. Lets pick out eight of the best oxen we have, get them harnessed together up on the ridge and get some wagons on the other side,” order Quincy.

  The three of them headed to the remuda to saddle up. The men handling the herd cut out the oxen and moved them into position at the top of the hill. It wasn’t long before the first wagon was heading up the steep trail. Ray chose to drive that wagon; since it had been his idea, he didn’t want it tested out by anyone else. If it failed, he wanted it on his head and no one else’s. The wagon actually made it quite a distance before the team grew tired and began to lose their footing. That was when Ray felt the pull from the oxen above. The team raised their heads, as the assistance was anxiously welcomed. The wagon moved straight along the trail and over the top where the family that owned the first wagon stood. Ray could tell they were relieved to get their wagon back in one piece. He jumped down from the wagon and handed the reins off to the owner and told him to pull ahead just enough to allow the next wagon into line. They didn’t want the wagons lumbering down the trail with large gaps between them. There were still Paiutes in the area that would love to get their hands on some of the stock.

  The day was filled with happy faces once everyone realized they would not lose too many days on their quest to clear the mountains before the snow fell. Mud got deeper as each wagon was pulled through but it didn’t stop the process. By nightfall they were all on the other side of the ridge and had traveled another five miles before it was time to circle up for the night.
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  -CKS-

  “Come in, come in” said Mrs. Cooper, as she opened the door just wide enough to allow Phillip to enter. “I do remember you. You worked for the Fosters. Now what’s this about my son?” said Mrs. Cooper as she tried to hold back the tears.

  “Firstly your son is not dead,” said Phillip, gently.

  “What? But they told me he was dead! He has to be dead. What are you talking about?” cried Mrs. Cooper.

  “No, everyone thought that your son had been killed with your husband but that wasn’t the case. I saw him with my own eyes,” confirmed Phillip.

  “I don’t understand, Ray? alive? But where is he? Please, tell me the truth. You’re not just trying to trick me out of some money or something? I have nothing. I live off of the charity of others and the small amount I brought with me. I’m a poor woman. Please, please,” sobbed Mrs. Cooper as she covered her face with her hands.

  “There, there, Mrs. Cooper. I know this is a shock. I would have tried to present it to you a little easier, but there just isn’t time,” explained Phillip.

  “Okay, okay, I have to believe you,” said Mrs. Cooper as she tried to catch her breath. “What do you mean there isn’t time? Where's Ray? Where's my boy?”

  “First, Ray is on the trail with a wagon train and should be here in a couple months. As for the other, as you know I work for or did work for, Miss Foster. I journeyed with her here on the stage. Her intentions toward your son are of mortal consequence. She means to bring great harm to you. To hurt Ray, and then have him killed.”

  “But why? It was her family that attacked my husband. Why is she after Ray?”

  “Because when Ray confronted Mr. Foster at his home, Mr. Foster tried to shoot him, but Ray got the best of him. Miss Foster is not herself, she is filled with so much anger all she can think about is revenge.”

  “Why have you risked coming and telling me all this? I’m sure Miss Foster will not be happy with you if she is as bent on revenge as you say.”

  “Mrs. Cooper.”

  “Please call me Mildred,” interrupted Mrs. Cooper.

  “All right, Mildred, I have been in the employ of the Foster Family most of my life. I have always been able to remain Phillip, the butler. No matter what happened around the estate, my duties were always that of a butler. I will not be involved in the disgusting affairs I believe Miss Foster has in store. I am therefore taking the next stage to San Francisco and from there a ship to New York.” Phillip concluded.

  “I do not know how to thank you. You have risked so much by coming here. If you wish, there is a rear door that would allow you to enter the side alley way and go unnoticed.”

  “Thank you my dear lady. I will use that rear door and take my leave now.”

  Mildred escorted Phillip to the back door. Opening it slightly she made sure no one would see Phillip, and then stepped aside. Phillip slipped out without looking back and dashed up the alleyway. He knew his life depended on Miss Foster not finding out his plans before he could put them into action.

  Waiting in her home until she was sure that Phillip was well on his way, Mildred stepped out from her front door and walked up the boardwalk towards the center of town. She stopped several times to speak with other ladies and acquaintances of hers, trying to be polite mostly to mask her intentions from any possible onlooker. She did not want to tip her hand that she was aware of any present danger by running straight to the marshal’s office. Since most of Pueblo de Los Angeles had seen Mildred with the marshal, a simple stroll to the office would not or should not raise any eyebrows. She stopped out front of the jail and gave a slight sweep of the street with her eyes to see if anyone was watching her. She turned, opened the door and entered the jail.

  A shadow across the street observed her glance and with a smile headed off in the opposite direction down the alley.

  Entering the stone walled jail Mildred found a large, muscular, middle-aged man with slightly graying temples sitting behind his desk looking over old wanted posters.

  The jail had been built to hold the toughest the West had to offer. It had strong, thick stone walls with three cells surrounded by iron bars. The front of the building was the office and to the rear was a small area for the marshal’s cot and dresser. This was his home and work place under one roof.

  “William,” cried Mildred as she approached his desk.

  “What is it Mildred?” said Marshal Larsen as he rose and came around his desk to comfort her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “If there are any ghosts to be found, it might just be mine,” shook Mildred.

  “What on earth do you mean, Mildred?”

  “I just had a visitor at my home. He used to be the butler for the rich family that ran the mill back in Wisconsin. He told me that my son is still alive!”

  “Well, that’s wonderful! So why are you acting so scared? Shouldn’t you be happy your son’s alive?” questioned the Marshal.

  “He also told me that the daughter of the man he used to work for is here in town and intends to have my son killed. She’s just waiting here for him to arrive off the trail.”

  “Does this have anything to do with what you told me about them trying to steal your land back in Wisconsin?” asked the Marshal.

  “I’m afraid so. The butler told me that after my husband was killed, Ray returned to town from the north woods and confronted Mr. Foster, the owner of the mill. Apparently there was gunplay and Mr. Foster was killed. His daughter witnessed the whole thing and according to the butler, she may well have even contributed to the shooting.”

  “So she’s here for revenge, is that it?” asked Larsen.

  “Yes William, yes, what can I do? I can’t lose my son twice. I just don’t know what to do,” cried Mildred.

  “Okay, okay. I’m gonna tell you exactly what you’re gonna do. First you’re gonna go home and get some rest. Second, you must stay away from this Miss Foster. Let me do my job. I’m pretty good at it, and I’ll see if I can’t put an end to all of this before anything happens.”

  “Oh thank you William, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here when I first arrived. With my sister having passed away, leaving me with no place to go, I thought I had no one left and then there you were. And now I find that my son is still alive and on his way here,” cried Mildred, a smile forming on her face.

  “Yes, yes,” said William, who was always very nervous around an emotional woman. “You get goin’ now and let me get to work.”

  “Oh yes William, thank you William. I’ll see you later this evening, right?” asked Mildred, as the marshal moved her ever closer to the now open door.

  “Don’t you worry, I’ll see you later on,” said the marshal as he closed the door behind Mildred and returned to his desk to think.