Die with the Outlaws

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  Matt held the horseshoe out in front of him as he sighted on the target. Then he tossed the horseshoe, which made a perfect ringer.

  “Well now, what happened to your haint, Cal? Did it run away?”

  “I didn’t have a haint against Matt. Just against you, Pearlie,” Cal said.

  “Here comes Smoke,” Pearlie said, seeing him coming from the main house.

  “Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt your game, but Sally has dinner on the table and I would hate to see it get—”

  Even before Smoke could finish his sentence, Cal started toward the house at a quick walk.

  “Has anyone ever had to call that boy twice to a meal?” Matt asked.

  “Not since I’ve known him,” Pearlie said. “And that’s been a while.”

  Dinner was a baked ham with scalloped potatoes, sautéed green beans with bacon, and rolls.

  “I don’t expect you get many meals like this in all your travels, do you?” Smoke asked Matt.

  “Sure I do. When I come here in my travels.”

  The others laughed.

  “How are you finding Glenwood Springs?” Sally asked.

  “Just the way it was when I left it,” Matt replied.

  “Have you had a chance to visit with Doc yet?” Smoke asked.

  “Yes, he’s looking really bad, Smoke. I don’t imagine he has much time left.” Matt smiled. “But we got to play a little poker and I almost held my own with him.”

  “Really? Well if you can stay with him in a poker game, he must really be off his feed,” Smoke said.

  “Is Kate still with him?” Sally asked.

  “Looking after him the way a mama wolf looks after her cub.”

  “Bless her heart. She’s a good woman for doing that,” Sally said.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “How long are you going to hang around Glenwood Springs this time?” Smoke asked.

  “I don’t have any particular length of time in mind. I thought I might like to just relax a little.”

  “Matt, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never relaxed for more than a few days. There has always been something over the next ridge that you just had to see.”

  Chugwater, Wyoming Territory

  Meagan Parker picked up her mail at the post office, then smiled when she saw the neat penmanship of her sister, Lisa. Meagan had other mail as well, most of it related to the dress emporium she owned and ran, but she opened the letter from her sister with eager hands.

  The smile left her face as she read the letter, because it was not the breezy, informative letter she expected.

  Dear Meagan,

  Forgive me for coming to you with this, but our situation is getting desperate and I don’t know where else I can go. We have run into some difficulty, and while I know that Hugh would be capable of making a living for us anywhere, he has invested himself heart and soul into making a go of it with the ranch. Now, though, there is a distinct possibility that we may lose the ranch.

  I will start by telling you that we have a little over two hundred horses, and at the anticipated income of one hundred dollars per horse, you can see that our potential is quite lucrative. However, we have been suffering a terrible degradation of our herd, due to an influx of rustlers and horse thieves.

  We have a mortgage payment of fifteen hundred dollars due within the month that we can easily pay off if we successfully deliver our horses to market, but I don’t know if we can get our horses delivered.

  Hugh has had to let go all of our men but one, and while it will be difficult enough for the two of them to handle the herd by themselves, it would be even more difficult if they have to defend it against any potential rustlers.

  I know that you are very good friends with Duff MacCallister, and I know that there have been times when he has come to the aid of the underdog. Now would be such a time if he would be predisposed to do

  Your loving sister,

  Lisa

  “I can’t,” Duff said. “’Tis sorry I am, lass, but I just cannae get away from the ranch now. I would be more than glad to help your sister if I could.”

  “I know,” Meagan said. “But Lisa asked, and I had to try.”

  Inexplicably, Duff smiled. “But I know who can help.”

  “Who?”

  “Matt Jensen.”

  “Yes, he could,” Meagan replied with a wide, animated grin. Then the enthusiasm waned. “But how would we get word to him? You know how Matt wanders around so.”

  “Aye, but ’tis happened that I got a letter from him yesterday. He is in Glenwood Springs at the moment and says the he plans to stay there long enough to get mail. He asked that I send him a letter. I’ll be sending the lad a letter, but it’ll nae be the kind of letter he is expecting.”

  “Duff, do you think he’ll come?”

  “Aye, for ’tis a good friend, he is.”

  Chapter Four

  Smoke had been accurate in his remark that there was always something just over the next ridge for Matt to see. He was a lone wolf whose adventures had led him to wearing a deputy’s badge in Abilene, riding shotgun for a stagecoach out of Lordsburg, scouting for the army in the McDowell Mountains of Arizona, and panning for gold in Idaho. He had rescued a governor’s niece in Colorado, saved a ranch in Idaho, defended an editor in the Dakota Territory, and taken a herd of Angus through a blizzard in Kansas.

  He could move from place to place quite easily because he traveled light. A bowie knife, a .44 double-action Colt, a Winchester .44-40 rifle, a rain slicker, an overcoat, two blankets, two spare shirts, socks, two extra pairs of trousers, and extra underwear was all he carried.

  “Mr. Jensen, I have mail for you,” the desk clerk said when Matt came in that evening after being out for most of the day.

  “Thank you, Mr. Deckert.”

  Matt took the letter to his room to read.

  Matt,

  Thank you for your letter. It is good to know where a body can find you when there is need to do so. I wonder if I could prevail upon you to come to Chugwater to pay a visit. It would be most appreciated.

  Your friend,

  Duff

  The letter caught Matt’s attention, not for what it said, but for what it left unsaid. It was short and cryptic, unlike the long, informative letters Duff MacCallister usually sent. Matt read between the lines, even though there were only four lines to read between.

  Duff had asked him to come to Chugwater to pay him a visit, and that is exactly what he was going to do.

  * * *

  The next day Matt took the train from Glenwood Springs to Cheyenne. Arriving late that afternoon, he offloaded Spirit from the attached stock car then made arrangements for both to spend the night.

  The next day, which was only two days after receiving the letter from Duff, Matt rode into Chugwater, a town he hadn’t visited in several months. Dismounting in front of Fiddler’s Green Saloon, he looped the reins around the hitching rail and stepped inside. He smiled when he saw Biff Johnson, owner of the saloon.

  “Matt Jensen!” the old 7th Cavalry sergeant major said by way of greeting. “Why, I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays! Come over here and drink a beer to get the travel dust out of your mouth. On me,” he added as he drew the beer. “What brings you to Chugwater?”

  “As you know, there are some folks I keep up with all the time, no matter where I am. A couple of days ago I got a letter from Duff asking me to come up,” Matt said. “He didn’t give me any specifics, but I got the feeling that it was more than a casual request.”

  “Yes, Meagan Parker,” Biff replied.

  “Has something happened to Meagan?” Matt asked anxiously. She had been Duff’s lady friend for some time.

  “No, no, she’s fine, but, well, I think I’d better let Duff tell you himself. You’ll be riding out to Sky Meadow, won’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Biff reached under the bar and pulled out a package. “Give this to Duff, would you? It’s a drone
-reed that he ordered for his bagpipes. I picked it up at the post office for him.”

  “I’ll be glad to.” Matt smiled. “This way I won’t arrive empty-handed.”

  * * *

  Duff MacCallister’s ranch, Sky Meadow, spread out across several thousand acres of prime rangeland, lying between the Little Bear and Big Bear creeks.

  Elmer Gleason was a ranch partner and foreman of Sky Meadow. The position of Wang Chow, a Chinese master of martial arts, was somewhat less defined, though his loyalty to Duff was unquestioned and was cemented by the fact that Duff had once saved him from a lynching. Wang’s crime was that he was a Chinese man riding with a white woman.

  When Matt rode up to the buildings that made up the main compound of the ranch, he saw Elmer and Wang standing outside the machine shop watching one of the ranch hands as he repaired a torn stirrup. Both were offering instructions.

  “Make stitch go over,” Wang said.

  “No, now don’t go listening to anything this heathen tells you,” Elmer protested. “What does a Chinaman know about repairing a saddle anyway? That stitch should go under.”

  “Over or under?” the ranch hand asked.

  “I told you, under,” Elmer said. “Come on, Dale, you’ve been around here long enough to know that that heathen don’t have no idea what he’s talkin’ about most of the time.”

  Matt chuckled at the banter. He knew that Elmer and Wang were actually very close friends.

  “Hello, Matt,” Elmer greeted effusively. “Duff said you’d probably be paying us a visit sometime soon.”

  “Yes, I got a letter from him asking me if I would come up. I have a feeling it’s more than just a visit, though. Do you have any idea what it’s about?”

  “Well, I got me an idea, yeah, but I think Duff should be the one to talk to you about it,” Elmer replied.

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right.

  “It works better over,” Dale said after completing the procedure.

  “Yeah, just like I said,” Elmer insisted.

  Matt chuckled as he headed up to the main house, where Duff came down from the porch to meet him.

  “Matt, sure ’n I knew ye would be for comin’ to be offering yer help to an old friend.”

  “Of course, I’m glad to help,” Matt replied. “Help with what?”

  “Would ye be for comin’ to town with me, lad? ’Tis Meagan that needs the help, ’n I’ll be for letting her tell you the reason for it.”

  * * *

  An hour later Matt, Duff, and Meagan were having lunch in the City Café in Chugwater. So far the conversation had been a general catching each other up on the latest news items.

  After a few more exchanges of news and pleasantries, Duff got down to the reason he had sent for Matt. “It actually has to do with Meagan’s sister. I would be for taking care of it myself, but ’tis nae possible for me to away from the ranch right now.”

  “Take care of what?” Matt asked.

  “Since it does involve Meagan’s sister, I’ll let herself tell ye.”

  “Matt, I can’t thank you enough for coming,” Meagan began. “And if you decide this isn’t something you want to get involved in, I’ll understand. Believe me, I’ll understand. I know this will be asking a lot from you.”

  “Meagan, they say a rolling stone gathers no moss. You could modify that and say that a wandering man gathers no friends, or very few anyway, and I consider you and Duff to be among those very few. So whatever it is you want me to do, if it is within my power to do it, then I will.”

  “’N was I not for tellin’ ye that Matt would be willin’ to do as ye ask?” Duff said. “Sure ’n he is the salt of the earth, Matt is.”

  Smiling at Matt, Meagan reached across the table and lay her hand on Matt’s.

  At that moment he felt a bit envious of his friend for having someone like her, not only because she was an exceptionally pretty woman, but also because she was someone who was important to Duff.

  Matt had no female friend who was important to him.

  “My sister Lisa and her husband, Hugh Conway, own the Spur and Latigo Ranch, which is a horse ranch just outside of Rongis. The town is about a hundred miles northwest of here on the Sweetwater River,” Meagan said. “They’ve had some bad years and at one time were well on the verge of losing their ranch.” The frown on Meagan’s face was replaced with a smile. “But the last two years have been very good for them and now they have enough horses that they’ll be able to pay off the mortgage and own the land free and clear. That is, once they get them to market.

  “The problem is, they’ve been losing so many horses to rustlers that when the time comes, they may not have enough left to sell. And even if they do have enough to sell, they’ll still have to get them down to the railhead at Bitter Creek. That would be a one-hundred-mile drive, and Lisa says that Hugh has but one man working for him.

  “So what I’m asking you is—”

  Matt held up his hand to stop her in midsentence. “You don’t even have to ask, Meagan. Of course I’ll go to Rongis and make certain that your sister and her husband get their horses to the market in time.”

  “Close your eyes, Duff,” Meagan said.

  “Close my eyes?”

  “Yes, close your eyes. I’m about to give your friend a kiss, and I don’t want you to be jealous.”

  “Sure now ’n if ye be for kissin’ the lad, ’tis thinking I am that it’ll scare him away.”

  “Yeah? Let’s just find out,” Matt said with a little laugh as Meagan came around to kiss him chastely on the cheek.

  “And now, Duff, m’lad, if I’ll nae be scaring ye away, I’ll be for kissing ye as well,” Meagan said with a little laugh, perfectly mimicking Duff’s brogue as she kissed him, as well.

  Chapter Five

  Rongis, Wyoming Territory

  “Philpot, what is it you’re doin’ standin’ there at the bar with Ramona?” Angus Shardeen spoke the words in a cold, determined voice that got the attention of everyone in the Wild Hog Saloon.

  “What does it look like I’m a-doin’? I bought her a drink, ’n me ’n her is talkin’,” Harmon Philpot replied. He was one of several small ranchers who over the past few years had homesteaded a section of land on which he was running about one hundred head of cattle.

  “Yeah, well I want ’er to have a drink with me, so you get away from ’er.”

  “You ain’t got no right to tell me who I can ’n who I can’t talk to,” Philpot replied.

  Shardeen’s smile was evil and mocking. “Oh yeah, I do.” He tapped his hand against the butt of the pistol that hung at his side. “This here gives me the right.”

  “You can’t just come in here ’n buffalo a man for no reason.”

  “I got a reason. I told you, you’re standin’ there drinkin’ with Ramona, ’n I don’t like that. You got a gun. Now use it.”

  “What?” Philpot said, suddenly realizing this could go further than just bluff and bluster. “What are you talking about?”

  “I said go for your gun.” Again the evil smile. “I’ll even let you draw first.”

  “No, no, I ain’t goin’ to use my gun,” the belligerence in Philpot’s voice was replaced by fear. “Now leave me alone.”

  Shardeen shook his head. “Uh-uh. I can’t do that. It’s like I said, you was with Ramona. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t defend my woman?”

  “Shardeen, what are you talkin’ about? I ain’t your woman!” Ramona literally shouted the words, her voice on the verge of hysteria. “I’m anybody’s woman who can pay me. You know that!”

  “Yeah, that’s fine, just as long as it’s anybody but Philpot,” Shardeen said menacingly.

  “All right, all right. I ain’t with him no more!” Ramona said, moving quickly away from Philpot.

  Looking at Shardeen and licking his lips nervously, Philpot said, “There ain’t no need for this to go any further. I’ll find another woman to have a drink with.”

  “Sure,
honey, I’ll drink with you,” one of the other bar girls said quickly, hoping thereby to ease the tension.

  “Too late. He’s done got my dander up. Draw your gun,” Shardeen ordered.

  “No, I ain’t goin’ to, ’n there ain’t nothin’ you can do that’ll make me do it.”

  “You think not?” In a lightning-fast move, Shardeen drew his gun and pulled the trigger.

  Ramona screamed, her scream mirrored by a couple of the other girls. There was a universal gasp from those in the saloon, as everyone thought that Shardeen had just killed the small rancher. But when the gun smoke drifted away, Philpot was still standing, holding his hand to the side of his head with blood spilling through his fingers. Shardeen’s well-placed bullet had clipped off about a quarter-inch of the rancher’s earlobe.

  “Draw your gun,” Shardeen ordered again.

  “No.”

  A second shot and Philpot’s right earlobe, like his left, turned into a ragged, bloody piece of flesh.

  “Look at that, will you? Ol’ Shardeen’s cuttin’ Philpot up pretty good, ain’t he!” The speaker was Asa Carter, who had come into the saloon with Shardeen.

  “Shardeen, please stop!” Ramona shouted. “Why are you doing this?”

  Shardeen looked at Ramona, and though he said nothing to her, his stare was enough to cause her blood to run cold.

  “Why don’t you let ’im be now, Shardeen?” the bartender asked. “You’ve purt nigh taught him a real good lesson, I’d say.”

  Shardeen pointed his pistol at the bartender. “You stay out of it.”

  The bartender stuck his hands in the air. “I ain’t goin’ to say nothin’ no more.”

  Shardeen turned his attention back to Philpot standing at the bar with both bloody hands covering his ears.

  “I ain’t a-goin’ to tell you no more. Draw your gun!”

  “No! Please, stop now!” Philpot begged.

  “You willin’ to tell me in front of ever’body in here that you’re sorry you was with my woman, ’n you won’t be with her no more?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sorry!” Philpot said, shouting the words.