Range Wars 2007
written by Ted Cross
Episode One
The ten of us rode, our shoulders hunkered up and our chins tucked turtle-like, as the rain pounded us for another long night. It had not stopped raining in three days and we were, all of us as well as our mounts, soaked to the bone. Lightning flashed, and moments later the thunder rolled around us. I raised my head slightly, looking at the men that rode with me. The ten of us had been through a lot together and I knew we had a long road ahead.
Four years, all said and done, that’s how long it had lasted. Four years. We had been together since the start, greeners that would ripen over time. Ten men from different backgrounds, yet we all shared the same desire. Preserve the union. A noble cause. That bullet struck down more than just a President that night at Fords Theatre; it struck down hope as well. Hope for a speedy reconstruction. Hope for a fast mend.
The rhythm of the rain as it pelted my hat, combined with the rocking motion of the horse, sent my mind back to a night much like this one. We all sat around a small fire on the banks of the Tennessee River and talked. The days fighting had been fierce and we knew we were in for it at first light as well. It was on that rainy night that I learned much about these men I had been fighting with for weeks.
Nathan Grimm was the first to break the silence. He looked into the fire as he spoke. “I was a teacher,” he began, his round glasses reflected the dancing flames, his pointed beard an ominous shade of red due to the light. “I was head master at a small college in Michigan…the youngest ever.” Teach snapped a piece of hardtack off with his teeth and chewed it methodically before continuing. “Soon after the conflict began, I found myself bidding goodbye to far too many young men. Boys, really. My students. It was their dreams, their lives being sacrificed for something that should have been decided years ago. How could I sit and do nothing?”
The man next to him nodded as he answered for us all. “Yes…One must act.” Joseph “Law” Boss began his tale. “I, too, had a life before this war…and a purpose. When I was a child, a man showed up at our family farm with a paper. Father met him at the door with his shotgun in his hands. In all my life, I had never seen my father so angry. I remember asking my mother what had him so upset, and she explained to me that the paper said we had to leave the farm. I still remember father standing there with his shotgun in his hands as the paper blew across the barnyard into the pasture. We lost the farm and shortly after - father as well. Years passed, I graduated law school and hung my shingle. But this war has taught me a valuable lesson…sooner or later it all comes down to guns. Father should have shot the SOB after all.”
“It’s all a gamble anyway,” John Black was the next to speak. “I spent my whole life sailing up and down the Mississippi River, seen and known men from both worlds. My daddy was a steamboat captain and I cut my teeth on a loading dock. It didn’t take me long to learn that the gamblers onboard made a lot more money than the crew, including the captain. No…it’s all a gamble. When this war started I watched men turn on each other, brother on brother, gambling it all on who would win. So I’m here now, gambling on you all.”
“Not for me. It’s a sure thing,” Steven Kree jumped in. “I’m sure of my choices. I had a small parish in Kansas. A small band of raiders attacked the town and burned it all. I watched as my church burned to the ground. As I picked through the ruins and the bodies, I decided that this evil must be dealt with on its own terms. I grasped the sword of Arch Angel Michael and came out swinging.”
“Singing!”
The Preacher gently pat the leg of the man sitting next to him.
Eric “Boom Boom” Day had been a miner before the war, and apparently used a lot of explosives. We all learned his first day here that he was almost completely deaf. But he was the best black powder man in the world.
“Nothing, Boom Boom” the man on the other side of the miner answered. It was still funny hearing the English accent.
Tony “The Englishman” Broughcut was a puzzle to us all. He claimed, rather fervently, that he was a direct descendent of King Henry the Eighth. “I came here to build an empire of my own. A cattle empire. The tall thin man moved closer to the fire as he continued. “I had been here about a year when the war started. I felt that if I was to make this country my own…well then I should get involved. You see in England you are judged by your father’s actions. What you do as a man means little if your name isn’t the right one. This war is about that. And I for one believe the cause to be a just one.”
“For my kids, that’s what drove me.” Rod Styler added. “I was an Engineer, drove the L&M line out of Chicago. Hauled mostly freight, but I did love that train.” He held a small wooden object in his hands as he told his story. “I couldn’t believe it either. When it all started I mean…seems along time ago.”
The man held up the small object. “My son made this for me.” He placed it to his lips and blew gently.
“Sounds like a train whistle from far away,” I said.
“Yep…My boys love trains too.” Whistler placed the treasure gently back into his vest pocket.
“More wood,” Ray “Sticks” Oxwald said as he set the bundle down. Sticks had been a lumberjack before the war; none was better with axe or blade. He never said much. I learned about him from the Doc.
Jason “Doc” Blue had been with the regiment from the start. He lay curled up next to the fire snoring lightly. Doc could sleep anywhere at anytime. And would save our lives many times over. He never told any of us why he was here, with a small Calvary troop, but we learned to not look a gift horse in the mouth.
That night was to be the first of many campfire talks for the ten of us. It was a miracle that we all survived those times.
A particularly loud thunderclap brought me back to the present. Teach had fallen back from the head of the column and was now riding beside me.
“Think we should pull in for the night, Colonel?” he shouted above the furry of the storm.
I simply nodded yes. They still called me Colonel, after all this time.
Law Boss took point and soon located a cave in the side of a hill large enough to house us and the horses. The Gambler built a small fire and as we settled in I explained to them why we were here…none had asked in the three days we had been reunited, they just came when I called.
“General Scott has been appointed the military governor of a new territory which is opening in just a few days time. He has asked for our help. It’s a chance boys. A new chance for all of us. I ask for your help in bringing law to this edge of civilization.”
None spoke for a moment. Then each in turn simply said yes.
Episode Two
“Don’t you see, Kid! It’s a new chance!”
The pounding of the piano and the rumble of the crowd all but drowned out what Whitey was yelling to his young friend. The Kid didn’t react; he simply stared straight ahead into the large mirror that was always over the bar in joints this big.
“Are you listenin’ to me, Kid!” shouted the pale man.
No one seemed to notice the man stepping just inside the saloon door. Only a few noticed as he raised the Winchester rifle in his hands and leveled it at the Kid’s back.
Snake-like, the Kid struck. In one smooth motion, his 45 was out and he spun towards the door. A single shot rang out as the crowd reacted, some diving for cover under tables…others just trying to get out of the line of fire by racing towards the edge of the room. The impact from the bullet threw the man back out the door and onto the boardwalk.
“That’s the guy from this morning. He’s been tailin’ us all day, Whitey.” The two, along with the rest of the crowd, walked out to the fallen man.
“That’s Bud Short,” one of the locals announced.
“All right folks, what’s going on here?” A large man wearing a badge pushed his way through the crowd.
“It was a legal shoot, Marshall. Bud here was about to bushwhack this kid…seen the whole thing Marshall,” another of the spectators spoke up as all murmured in agreement.
“That so?” The big man moved closer to the Kid.
“Saw him in the mirror…”
“So what do you figure you done to upset Bud here?” He pointed down at the dead man.
“I think it was about this,” the Kid slowly removed his gun from its holster. Handle first, he offered it to the Marshall. “He stopped us when we rode in this morning…tried to buy it from me, but I wouldn’t sell. Guess he figured on getting it another way.”
The Marshall’s eyes were wide, never before had he seen such a weapon. The craftsmanship, the balance, the hand etching along the barrel, the gold inlay, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Sounds like Bud. So how did a youngster like you end up with a gun like this?” the Marshall asked as he continued to admire the weapon.
“Won it in a card game,” the Kid replied as he extended his hand to retrieve his weapon.
They locked eyes, and just for a moment the Kid thought he had lost it.
“What’s your name, boy?”
Continuing to hold out his opened-palmed hand, he answered, “Korey Blaze.”
As they stood facing each other, Whitey slowly moved his hand, gently resting it on the handle of his holstered gun. Then with a quick flip, the Marshall handed the Kid back his revolver.
“Well …enough folks saw it to call it a legal shoot, so I’ll not hold you.”
“Much obliged, Marshall.”
“But I will tell you this. Bud here has two brothers and when they find out what’s happened…well I can’t say they’re gonna be too happy. I’d suggest you get on down the trail as soon as you can.”
With that the Marshall turned to the crowd and gathered some volunteers to carry Bud’s body to the undertaker.
“So Whitey…what’s the name of that town you been spoutin’ about?”
“Edge City.”
* * * * * * * * * *
She stepped off the rear platform of the train, her gray silk dress blending in with the shadows of the approaching night. In one hand she carried a small leather satchel, in the other a smaller drawstring purse. The train slowly pulled away leaving her standing alone on the platform.
The two cowboys saw her as she stepped off the train. They continued to pass the bottle of whiskey between them as they watched her standing on the platform. Then as the train pulled away, they moved towards her.
She heard them…and then smelled them, right before the bigger of the pair roughly grabbed her arm from behind. Spinning her around, the satchel dropping to the walkway.
“You waiting for somebody, little lady?” the drunk cowboy slurred.
“Please..just leave me be,” she pleaded.
“I’m somebody…” he said as he pulled her closer to him.
The odor of whiskey and the trail filled her nostrils. “Do you feel that?” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear as she shoved the barrel of her Derringer into his belly.
“Huh?” he stammered and grunted as he noticed.
“It’s a 42 caliber pistol…with a greased barrel. Know what a greased barrel means, cowboy?”
The shorter cowboy was now moving closer. “What’s she sayin?”
She continued to whisper, “It means that when the bullet comes out it spins, like a little saw, it just rips through you. Tearing up your insides. Won’t kill you right away…it will take a few days.”
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her.
“But not to worry, cowboy. I’ll come visit you every day, just to remind you of how stupid you are…and to watch.”
His friend was now beside him.
“You little…”
The shot echoed through the platform area, as did the man’s scream.
As his friend stood in shock, the lady in gray quickly produced another pistol and shot him between the eyes. Quickly she dropped both guns into her purse, picked up her satchel and headed for the hotel.
The next morning at breakfast she heard about the shooting. How dreadful it had been, two cowboys fighting over a herd…one dead, the other dying.
She easily located the doctor’s office, and true to her word, she visited the dying cowboy every day. On the fourth day she was told he had died…and being that she was his only living relative, naturally, she gained ownership of her “brother’s” herd.
It was the financial backing CJ needed to bankroll her dream.
Now it was on to Edge City.
Episode Three
“Don’t you see, Kid! It’s a new chance!”
The pounding of the piano and the rumble of the crowd all but drowned out what Whitey was yelling to his young friend. The Kid didn’t react; he simply stared straight ahead into the large mirror that was always over the bar in joints this big.
“Are you listenin’ to me, Kid!” shouted the pale man.
No one seemed to notice the man stepping just inside the saloon door. Only a few noticed as he raised the Winchester rifle in his hands and leveled it at the Kid’s back.
Snake-like, the Kid struck. In one smooth motion, his 45 was out and he spun towards the door. A single shot rang out as the crowd reacted, some diving for cover under tables…others just trying to get out of the line of fire by racing towards the edge of the room. The impact from the bullet threw the man back out the door and onto the boardwalk.
“That’s the guy from this morning. He’s been tailin’ us all day, Whitey.” The two, along with the rest of the crowd, walked out to the fallen man.
“That’s Bud Short,” one of the locals announced.
“All right folks, what’s going on here?” A large man wearing a badge pushed his way through the crowd.
“It was a legal shoot, Marshall. Bud here was about to bushwhack this kid…seen the whole thing Marshall,” another of the spectators spoke up as all murmured in agreement.
“That so?” The big man moved closer to the Kid.
“Saw him in the mirror…”
“So what do you figure you done to upset Bud here?” He pointed down at the dead man.
“I think it was about this,” the Kid slowly removed his gun from its holster. Handle first, he offered it to the Marshall. “He stopped us when we rode in this morning…tried to buy it from me, but I wouldn’t sell. Guess he figured on getting it another way.”
The Marshall’s eyes were wide, never before had he seen such a weapon. The craftsmanship, the balance, the hand etching along the barrel, the gold inlay, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Sounds like Bud. So how did a youngster like you end up with a gun like this?” the Marshall asked as he continued to admire the weapon.
“Won it in a card game,” the Kid replied as he extended his hand to retrieve his weapon.
They locked eyes, and just for a moment the Kid thought he had lost it.
“What’s your name, boy?”
Continuing to hold out his opened-palmed hand, he answered, “Korey Blaze.”
As they stood facing each other, Whitey slowly moved his hand, gently resting it on the handle of his holstered gun. Then with a quick flip, the Marshall handed the Kid back his revolver.
“Well …enough folks saw it to call it a legal shoot, so I’ll not hold you.”
“Much obliged, Marshall.”
“But I will tell you this. Bud here has two brothers and when they find out what’s happened…well I can’t say they’re gonna be too happy. I’d suggest you get on down the trail as soon as you can.”
With that the Marshall turned to the crowd and gathered some volunteers to carry Bud’s body to the undertaker.
“So Whitey…what’s the name of that town you been spoutin’ about?”
“Edge City.”
* * * * * * * * * *
She stepped off the rear platform of the train, her gray silk dress blending in with the shadows of the approaching night. In one hand she carried a small leather satchel, in the other a smaller drawstring purse. The train slowly pulled away leaving her standing alone on the platform.
The two cowboys saw her as she stepped off the train. They continued to pass the bottle of whiskey between them as they watched her standing on the platform. Then as the train pulled away, they moved towards her.
She heard them…and then smelled them, right before the bigger of the pair roughly grabbed her arm from behind. Spinning her around, the satchel dropping to the walkway.
“You waiting for somebody, little lady?” the drunk cowboy slurred.
“Please..just leave me be,” she pleaded.
“I’m somebody…” he said as he pulled her closer to him.
The odor of whiskey and the trail filled her nostrils. “Do you feel that?” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear as she shoved the barrel of her Derringer into his belly.
“Huh?” he stammered and grunted as he noticed.
“It’s a 42 caliber pistol…with a greased barrel. Know what a greased barrel means, cowboy?”
The shorter cowboy was now moving closer. “What’s she sayin?”
She continued to whisper, “It means that when the bullet comes out it spins, like a little saw, it just rips through you. Tearing up your insides. Won’t kill you right away…it will take a few days.”
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her.
“But not to worry, cowboy. I’ll come visit you every day, just to remind you of how stupid you are…and to watch.”
His friend was now beside him.
“You little…”
The shot echoed through the platform area, as did the man’s scream.
As his friend stood in shock, the lady in gray quickly produced another pistol and shot him between the eyes. Quickly she dropped both guns into her purse, picked up her satchel and headed for the hotel.
The next morning at breakfast she heard about the shooting. How dreadful it had been, two cowboys fighting over a herd…one dead, the other dying.
She easily located the doctor’s office, and true to her word, she visited the dying cowboy every day. On the fourth day she was told he had died…and being that she was his only living relative, naturally, she gained ownership of her “brother’s” herd.
It was the financial backing CJ needed to bankroll her dream.
Now it was on to Edge City.
Episode Four
Flashes of lightning briefly brightened the deserted streets as the ten rode into town. The formation halted only momentarily to view their surroundings. To call this collection of tents and shanties a town was a stretch. Dim lights glowed through dirty windows. They spurred their horses forward at a slow trot. Curtains were pulled aside and dark silhouettes watched them as they passed.
“They seem a little worried,” Teach broke the silence.
“I would be. We must be a sight.”
The group continued slowly through town, stopping at last in front of the Sheriff’s Office.
“Find a place to get dry and wet, boys…be with you directly.” The Colonel dismounted and stepped onto the porch and then into the jail.
Behind the desk sat an old man, his long white mustache and shoulder length white hair reflected the small lantern’s light, “Help you mister?”
“I believe you are expecting me….”
“…..Colonel Cross. Yep - got the telegram last week. Looks as if I’m being put out to pasture,” the gentleman rose slowly from his chair and extended his withered hand. “Sheriff Oscar Rosecrans… I guess former Sheriff, now.”
“You are more than welcome to stay on, ya know,” the Colonel replied.
“No…no. You boys is going to have your work cut out for ya. No …. I plan on doin’ alittle fishin.” He moved from behind the desk and faced his replacement. “Keys are in the top drawer, bottle in the bottom.” The elderly man slowly shook his head and turned towards the door.
“Wish you and yours the best of luck, Colonel,” were his parting words.
*****
Fritz stood on the rear platform of the last car. As the train lurched forward, his hand reached out and grasped the rail firmly.
“And so it ends,” he said to himself as he looked over the city he had grown to love.
“WAIT!” A female voice shouted from just below the steps of the platform. “Wait, Oh please!” She called.
Fritz moved to the steps and saw a sight he would never forget. Carrying a camera, still hooked to the tripod, her hat flying from her head and her free hand reaching for the rail was a woman with the most determined look on any face he had ever seen.
Fritz reached out for her hand
“No you fool! Take the camera! Take the bloody camera!” she instructed.
Doing as he was told, he reached down and took the bulky object from her hand. As the train sped up, Fritz called out, “You might want to hurry…”
The young woman hiked up her dress with both hands and sprinted closer. “I…. could…. use…. that… hand…. now!” she panted.
The reporter reached down and effortlessly pulled her onto the platform beside him. “So what was that all about?” he asked as she did her best to fix her hair and straighten her dress.
“Jennifer Mustang” she said as she extended her hand, “but please, call me Jen”.
“Call me Fritz”
“Nice to meet you, Fritz, and thanks for the hand. I just had to get that shot, the steam blowing , the moment of movement, “ Jen explained as she reached for her equipment and turned to open the door to the car.
Fritz followed her in and before long he learned that she was a photographer who was heading to, of all places, Edge City.
It was a meeting that would change both of their lives forever.
Episode Five
CJ stepped from the trading post and turned her face towards the sky. She closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth of the western air.
“Much better than the dress I take it?” Josh was sitting in a chair leaning backwards comfortably as he looked up at her.
“Much!”
“Driver says about four hours before we get there.” Josh stood up eyeing CJ from head to toe. The buckskins she wore clung tightly to her small frame, and the tilt of the hat spoke volumes to anyone who was paying attention.
“So… you’re sure about working for me?” she asked.
“Looking forward to it,” was his response.
“You know it’s not going to be easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile is, Boss. Nothing worthwhile is.”
The stagecoach carrying the pair arrived in Edge City at dusk.
********
The Kid and Whitey road into Edge City like so many drifters before them, tired, hungry, and flat broke.
“Sure am hungry, Kid.”
“Me too.”
“So you figure we can maybe get us some food somehow?” Whitey rubbed his empty belly as he asked.
“I think so.”
“I sure hope so, Kid. My belly thinks my throat’s been cut.”
The two walked into a small tent that had been set up as a restaurant. Instantly a rather large robust woman was upon them.
“You two sure look a sight! Bet you’re hungry huh?”
The Kid, hat in hand responded, “Yes ma’am…trouble is….well…”
“You ain’t got no money do ya?” She interrupted.
“Not a cent.”
“Well….I got a lot of chores need doing. Figure you two could work for supper?”
“Yes ma’am!” Whitey jumped right in.
They ate until they were about to bust; and never worked harder for anyone when they finished.
When night fell, they bedded down in the barn near their horses. The Kid pulled his hat down over his eyes, folded his arms across his chest and was sleeping soon after.
Whitey was exhausted, but his mind was racing. The land rush had drawn a lot of people, no denying that. He pulled out the well-worn piece of paper, carefully unfolded it and smiled. “April 1st at two o’clock.”
He sure was glad they got there early.
********
Episode Six
Edge City seemed to swell as the train unloaded hundreds of fortune seekers daily. The cowboys and gamblers filled the streets and the once small shantytown had, in a matter of days, tripled in size and was still growing. Tents and makeshift buildings were popping up at the rate of four or five a day. Three saloons had been added in a week’s time and another was under construction.
The streets were an avenue of mud and dung, and the smell of the people combined with the animals was overpowering. Several new restaurants had opened, two with board floors along what was now being called Washboard Street. And of course, along with all of this came the buzzards. Con men and loose women lurked the dark alleys and out of the way places to take advantage of anyone who dare fall within their grasp. But for the most part, Edge City remained calm. A few minor brawls and gunplay, but nothing of major importance.
The time had finally arrived and it was an incredible sight. A solid line of wagons…the horses and humanity undulating as if the line itself were a living creature. The dust rising slightly in the still air as the animals pawed at the earth, while the men did their best to keep the beasts behind the line. The Colonel and his men watched as the soldier moved toward the cannon. He stood at the ready, waiting his commander’s orders.
The General sat stiff in his saddle as his mount shifted beneath him. He eyed his pocket watch for the exact time. His free hand was raised slightly above his right shoulder and the gunner’s eyes were locked firmly to it. And then it fell, the lanyard was pulled and the cannon erupted across the prairie. An explosion of men, animals and gear erupted forth, the human wave raced forward.
The Colonel watched in amazement, and he wasn’t alone. Those that were there to witness the event knew that stories would be told for decades of the land rush. Myths would be hatched, and legends born.
“A lot of folks with the same idea,” Doc mumbled as he picked some brown mud from the bottom of his boot with a stick. “Land fever.”
“How full is the jail, Colonel?” asked Sticks.
“Jail? If you call that storeroom a jail. Let’s see…I’ve got one cowboy for disturbing the peace…shot up the saloon alittle…and probably another five on fighting.”
“Sounds like the place is about to bust.”
“Oh, and one more. A gal from Sadie’s shot a man…in his…well…” the Colonel hesitated…
“Let’s just say if that bullet had gone a hair to the left, our boy wouldn’t be too happy!” Doc interrupted.
“Where are you holding her?” the Preacher asked.
“House arrest. Figured she wasn’t going anywhere. The cowboy wasn’t pressing any charges,” the Colonel answered as he shrugged his shoulders.
The deeds were soon filed and it was not long before two major factions had risen to the top. One was a
kid, really, but something about him drew loyalty and desire. The other was a woman, of all things, determined to carve her own path from the very bedrock of this country. Each has acquired men, equipment, and enough land to make a good go at it. All that was left now was to see who had the better cowpokes…who would gain the highest share of the ranging herd. In addition, it was well known that the military was paying top dollar for horseflesh in order to outfit the new border units.
The opportunity was available to all, but only a few would succeed.
Episode Seven
It had always puzzled him. He was an educated man after all, overly so by some standards. He was a man of science and of logic…but this “sense” of what was about to happen that periodically invaded his well-organized world still puzzled him.
Teach did not know that the men gathered at the far end of town were casing the bank, but he felt it. Edge City had been packed with people the entire day, so it was hard telling what those folks were really up to. But he felt it. They could be just a bunch of boys from one of the larger ranches gathering for payday. But he doubted it. It was a cracker box of a bank for sure, ripe for the picking. Slowly he moved down the street.
Whistler stepped out of a doorway and was now walking beside him. “You get that feelin?” he asked Teach. Whistler had learned to trust “that feelin’”, it had gotten them all in and out of many situations during the war.
“Seems like a lot of cowpokes.”
“You recognize any of them, Teach?”
“No…not for sure…one maybe…”
“Think I’ll just cut through here and come up on the other side there, o’l buddy.” With that being said, Whistler dodged off and moved between the buildings to afford a better angle on the group of men.
“Good morning Deputy!” Fritz shouted from across the street as he approached.
Two or three heads rose from the group and looked towards the two men.
“How you doing today, Deputy.”
“Fine thanks,” Teach replied as he kept his gaze trained on the group near the bank.
“Say, I’m working on a piece about all of you. Wondering if you can fill in some of the holes for me. I’m trying to get a first edition run by the end of the week,” Fritz stated.
“Anything I can do to help.”
“Is something wrong Deputy? I notice you keep looking down the street.”
“No…I’m sorry.” Teach gave Fritz his full attention. “You were asking something?”
At the sound of the first shot, they both turned. The second shot blew the hat from the top of Fritz’s head.
“Get inside!” Teach shouted as he simultaneously shoved Fritz and drew his revolver.
The next few shots that rang out he immediately recognized as the report of Whistler’s Sharps Carbine snapping off rounds. Behind him chaos reigned as men scurried for cover and horses bolted from the sounds of gunfire. Teach was closing the gap rapidly as he watched a pack of masked men pour from the bank, all firing in every direction at once. Bullets whipped past his head and kicked up the dirt at his feet as he continued to close in on the group. When he was within range he stopped, raised his weapon and in a hail of bullets he began squeezing off well-controlled rounds.
Bodies tumbled to the ground, while others jumped and ran toward the horses being held by one lone cowboy. The pale youth stared wide-eyed at the explosion of gunfire around him. Both hands were full of reins and he was holding on for dear life as the animals reared and pulled. Slowly Teach turned his attention to the youth, and squeezed the trigger firing his last shot. The white haired man spun around from the force of the bullet and was thrown to the ground as the rest of his companions grasped the dangling reins of their horses and mounted up, spinning and spurring their animals directly at Teach.
Methodically he loaded his weapon, counting the men as they neared. Eight of them had made it out of the bank. As he loaded his sixth shot and closed the chamber, two tumbled from their saddles, both striking the ground and bouncing beneath the hooves of the horses behind them. As he raised his gun to sight the next target, Doc’s voice boomed.
“Teach!”
The gunmen galloped nearer as the Deputy turned to see Doc pointing. Teach instantly focused his attention to Doc’s warning and saw to his horror a woman, not more than ten feet behind him, standing beside a camera and holding the flash pan. She was intent on getting a picture.
Teach felt the ground shake as the horses moved closer and he sprang towards the young lady shouting at her to get out of the way. She remained frozen in spot, focused…calmly waiting for the right moment.
Within seconds Teach had closed the gap. Bullets were striking the dirt and the boardwalk all around them, one whizzing past his ear. As he reached out for her, the pan flashed. Instantly the Deputy was blinded. His momentum carried him into her, and her camera. The galloping horses reared, and in the confusion three more robbers were hit and fell dead to the street. The pair tumbled onto the ground as the remaining desperados galloped out of town.
* * * * * *
Whitey moved slowly through the dark alleys of Edge City, his side burning where the round had passed. He could not ever remember hurting so much. The warm blood soaked his shirt and saturated his gun belt. It had been a long afternoon.
It had seemed like such a good idea. All he had to do was hold the horses, ride out with them, and get his cut. Easy, simple they had told him. No one was going to get hurt, it would be a snap. The blood continued to flow and he winced as he placed the bridle over the horse’s head. The saddle was going to be the hard part…that and explaining to the Kid what had happened.
It had seemed like such a good idea.
Episode Eight
Fritz was the first to reach the couple. “Jen! Are you all right! I told you it was crazy!”
Boom Boom was next. “TEACH!” he shouted. “You ok?”
The Deputy stood up, lifting the woman to her feet. As he rubbed his eyes, he demanded, “How many got out?”
“Three. Me and Whistler could of got ‘em, I think………..then there was that flash,” Boom Boom looked annoyingly at Jen.
Whistler rounded the corner, his hand pressed to his side and blood trickling between the closed fingers. “We going after them?” he asked.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Doc shouted from down the street as he moved quickly toward them.
“Doc’s right,” Teach said as he blinked rapidly. “Boom Boom, Preacher and I will go after them.”
“Five dead. You made a quick job of it,” said Doc as he took a quick look at Whistler’s injury.
Teach had finally regained his sight when he asked, “What about the pale fellow, holding the horses? White hair, younger man?”
“None of the corpses fit that description. They all appeared to be pretty rough hombres,” Doc answered.
“Thought for sure I got him…thought for sure,” mumbled Teach.
The three were soon mounted and riding hard in the direction of the robbers. As they rode out of town, Fritz and Jen stood watching.
“Who was the Deputy that ran into me?” she asked Fritz.
He smiled, knowing that look, having seen it many times in his life on the faces of others. “Don’t you mean - swept you off your feet?” he replied with a grin.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The three lawmen rode fast, as the trail had been easy to follow.
“Boom Boom, I want you to go and see if you can get us some help from the CJW crew. If we can wrangle up a couple of men to help us out, surely we can hem the three of them in…trap them between us, the Indian Territory and the KGB homestead,” Teach instructed.
With a brisk nod, Boom Boom spurred his horse and turned towards the CJW ranch. Teach and the Preacher continued on the trail.
It was almost dusk when Boom Boom came upon a group of men running a fence line for the CJW ranch. He galloped up and skidded to a halt in front of the group. “The bank in Edge City got hit this afternoon and three of the robbers are coming this way. What I need is for you to keep a sharp eye out for anyone coming from this direction, is that clear?” Boom Boom shouted excitedly as he pointed down the road.
Boom Boom dismounted and quickly deputized the CJW men. The men understood the importance of what they were being asked and each was determined to help the law in this new territory. The group then prepared for what might happen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Kid had spent most of the day rounding up cattle and driving them back to the holding pen. It had been backbreaking work, but a very profitable day. He and his men had gathered up several horses as well and he was looking forward to breaking a few of them himself. As he headed for the gully on the far end of his property, he thought it odd that he had not seen Whitey all day. He found it hard to believe that Whitey had such pressing business in town. The Kid had learned, however, you never really knew what Whitey was up to.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The three ranch hands had no idea what they were riding into. They had been sent by the Kid to check the fence line between the KGB and CJW ranches. The three slowly trotted over the rise, precisely where Boom Boom was waiting.
Boom Boom had no way of knowing which one of his deputized men shot first, and once the bullets started to fly, it really didn’t matter. The ambushed ranch hands reacted quickly, turning their mounts and spurring them back in the direction they had come. In mere moments, two of the KGB men suffered serious wounds as the three raced off in the orange twilight of dusk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The robbers rode hard into the failing light. “Think we lost ‘em?” one of them shouted over to the leader.
“Not sure…got to keep movin,” he responded.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Teach knew he was close. With the light fading fast it was easy to lose your bearings and with the way the tracks turned, he was convinced that the bank robbers had gotten themselves lost. He was sure they were turning in a circle….so sure that he sent Preacher straight across the plains to intercept them. It wasn’t long before he had proven his theory. Before him the setting sun silhouetted the three horsemen as they rode hard, side-by-side.
Teach spurred his already exhausted mount forward. No way was he going to let these men get away, not on his watch. The gap narrowed and his quarry loomed closer. Ahead was a small dip in the plains, not much, but just enough for him to possibly lose track of them. While still at a full gallop, Teach drew his Winchester rifle from its saddle scabbard and took aim on the man to the far left of the line. Timing the horse’s bounce, he squeezed the trigger. The man tumbled from the saddle like a rag doll. Still running at full speed, he cocked his rifle and took aim at the robber on the right. Once more, waiting until just the right moment, he squeezed off another round, and again the target fell to the ground.
The Kid heard the first shot, scrambled for his gun and threw himself against the wall of the gully. As the second shot rang out, this one closer, he braced himself and pulled back the hammer of his revolver.
Teach was certain that he would only get one shot at the last of the fleeing robbers. Once more he raised the Winchester…and just as the rider’s horse began to dip down out of sight, he pulled the trigger.
The third shot was closer still and moments after it echoed a pile of man, horse and money spilled into the gully. The horse screamed as it struck the ground kicking and thrashing for footing. The Kid dove to one side, just escaping the slashing hooves of the stunned animal and the falling body of a man.
Teach skidded his mount to a halt at the edge of the gully, dismounted and leapt over the rim. When he landed he and the Kid were face-to-face, gun barrel to gun barrel.
“What’s going on!” the Kid shouted as he locked eyes with the dust-covered man.
“Drop the gun!” Teach bellowed as he pushed his gun roughly against the Kid’s chest. It was then that he heard the groans from the man on the ground.
“Don’t be a fool, son.” a voice spoke calmly behind the youth. “I’ll say a prayer for you, but sure as God made green apples - I’ll drop you where you stand.” The Preacher moved closer as he cautioned the steady handed lad.
“No trouble here. I was just fixing the fence line is all,” he was setting the gun on the ground at his feet while explaining. “I heard the shots, and well as you can see this came tumbling in!” the Kid was pointing at the now silent robber, the money still drifting in the air and falling to the ground around them.
“Seems pretty convenient, Blaze, you being right where they were headed,” Teach said as he lowered his gun and bent to retrieve the pistol on the ground.
“I told you I was fixing the fence line, and that’s the truth.”
The Kid was covered with the kind of dirt that only a full day’s work could produce. Teach handed the pistol back to the young man, looked him square in the eyes and said, “You had better just head back to your ranch.”
With those words of advice, and thankful to get out with his skin, Korey Blaze headed home.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The night curtain had dropped, but the full moon had risen and shone bright across the land. In the distance the Kid identified three riders closing fast. He wasn’t able to make them out but they were heading to his homestead. Angling his horse slightly, Blaze turned in the direction of the three unknown riders. As he came closer, he heard a warning shout from one of the men.
“Who is that! I’ll shoot!”
“Easy now Pard!” Korey shouted back as he reined in his horse slightly.
“That you Kid!” the man asked.
“That you Curly?” the Kid responded.
“Boy am I glad to see you! Wild Bill is hit pretty bad, and Blush took one to the leg!” Curly informed his boss as they came together.
“What happened?”
“Got jumped by them CJW boys along the fence line! They just opened up on us, Boss! We didn’t have a chance!” Blush answered between clenched teeth.
“Why? I mean, I thought we had an agreement!” The Kid took the reins of Bill’s horse and they began to move toward the house.
“I think the agreement is off, Boss,” Curly mumbled.
Wild Bill and Blush were helped from their horses and taken inside for treatment. Quickly the word spread and soon everyone on the ranch gathered to hear the tale.
“They just gunned us down!” Curly shouted to the group of men.
“Easy now, Curly. Let’s not get too worked up,” one of the cowhands said from the crowd.
“Worked up? Worked up! It ain’t you that was gettin’ shot at!” Pointing at the house Curly continued, “It ain’t you that’s layin’ in there bleedin’…at least not yet it ain’t! If they is out for us…then by gum I say we take it to ‘em!”
Just then Whitey rode slowly through the gate. The men turned and the horse stopped. The Kid emerged from the house and they all watched as Whitey slowly slid from the saddle, wincing with every move. He walked toward The Kid holding his side.
Curly stepped forward shouting excitedly, “They jump you too? Bet they did! Them CJW boys did us too! Shot Blush in the leg and we don’t know if Wild Bill’s gonna make it or not! They jump you too, Whitey”
It seemed the best way out of a bad situation. Before he collapsed, Whitey said, “Yep.”
That having been said, the feud was on.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Episode Nine
The solitary brave sat astride his horse on the cliff’s edge, viewing the valley below him. For years he had fought for his people in the white man’s courts, only to lose everything. All that time he spent in the white man’s schools; learning… studying… attempting to follow the law…and then trying to make the law work for his people…all had been for nothing. In the end it came down to move…or die. Most of his people would choose the path of life. A small band would follow him to their deaths.
Turning his mount around, he gently guided the animal down the mountain trail. What was left of his tribe would be waiting for him at the bottom. All of them determined to make the invaders pay dearly for each blade of grass and each grain of dirt that was being taken from them.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Curly James spurred his horse onward. Traveling most of the night he hoped he would make the pass before the wranglers of the CJW ranch moved through with the herd. He arrived just as the sun was rising and located a perfect spot to hide and wait. The emotions he felt for his newfound friends were strong. Curly truly believed that had it not been for the Kid and Whitey, he would have been dead by now. He checked and rechecked his weapon. All was ready. He would show them what messing with his friends would cost.
Slowly the herd moved through the grass. CJ moved confidently among the cattle and the wranglers. It had been a hard, dusty ride…but well worth it. She had taken a gamble and had followed up on a lead from one of the men she recently hired. Range cattle - just waiting to be rounded up, he had said…and sure enough, he had been right. Just a small way to go now and they would be on her land. Just through the pass…and they were home free.
Curly saw the dust cloud in the distance and knew that the cowboys were heading his way. Shifting slightly to get a better view of the floor of the pass, he steadied himself and waited.
CJ waved her rope as the herd pushed through the narrow gorge. Could be trouble if these animals get spooked. The words had hardly formed in her brain when she heard the shot ring out.
The animals bawled and broke into a run, colliding and smashing into each other and into the other wranglers as they panicked and pressed forward into the pass. CJ watched in horror as the cowboy in front of her was instantly swept away. She spun her horse around and moved as fast as she could away from the pressing mass. She heard the screams of men as they fell and were soon trampled beneath the sharp hooves of the panic-stricken beasts. Her eyes strained to see through the dust…and then she saw him at the edge of the rim. His hat in his hand and his long, red curly hair blowing as he cheered and shouted down at the remaining cowboys.
They all recognized him and they all knew who he worked for.
Episode Ten
The air hung thick with revenge as the men of the CJW ranch buried two of their own. A feud was the last thing that CJ wanted…but it was the way of the West. Fight for what you want, and defend it with your life once you have it. The men CJ had hired were good with a gun, as were most men in this part of the country…but now she needed more. It would be costly. She needed professionals and it was time to hire some gunmen of her own. Many would come just for the chance to build a reputation in this new territory…and many would die.
At first Josh had been against the whole idea. But as was the pattern, CJ managed to convince him it was the only way to insure their hold on the land they had recently staked. She was well aware of the fact that after the dust had settled, only two came out on top. Now that blood was drawn, she intended to eliminate her competition and in any way that she could. If it meant gunslingers, then so be it.
* * * * *
Over night, Edge City had become a boomtown. As the season started to change, so did the man on the street. More and more arrived each day; they carried their guns low, and their tempers high. They say a town, like a man, goes through growing pains. Edge City was now in its teen years, and it showed. It was becoming much too common of an event…two men…face-to-face…the flash of powder…and only one left standing. The undertaker was doing a fine business.
It was not an easy task for the law to be everywhere at once and without the help of his men, the Colonel would have never been able to pull it off. Over time, each of his men had begun to carve out a life for himself.
Doc was busy right from the start, healing a town that had been without medical care for some time.
Joseph “Law” Boss, on the other hand, found himself with a lot of free time. He read or wrote the occasional agreement, but for the most part, the town did not seem to need a lawyer. What they did need, however, was an honest judge and when Law Boss was offered the appointment, he humbly accepted. There was no better man to administer justice.
Whistler was an expert blacksmith. He missed his old job terribly, but fell right into the heat and grime of his new chosen one. A few more weeks of 18 hour workdays and he would be able to send for his family.
Teach had opened a small school, just a tent on the outskirts of town, but a school all the same. The Englishmen had given up on his dream of owning a big ranch, and decided to establish the first stockyard. Preacher was busy saving souls, and had recently started to raise the funds to build a church.
Sticks took over the lumberyard and was making a small fortune. He was well on his way to becoming a major player in the towns affairs. The Gambler kept to himself, applying his trade and getting out when the getting was good. He had managed to buy in to one of the saloons, and spent a lot of his time dealing blackjack. Boom Boom took to mining and had started a small claim. It had not paid out much yet, but he had high hopes.
Each, however, was always at the ready. Each was prepared to do what was needed to ensure the law…and at the drop of a hat would move to defend it.
What was on the horizon would test them all.
Episode Eleven
It wasn’t that he enjoyed the loud noise and the smell of drunken men and over-perfumed women. He just enjoyed taking their money. And that meant time at the gambling table. Max moved slowly through the swinging doors of what was to be his new workplace. It was a job to him, a way to make a living and earn enough money to avoid getting dirty. The doors swung closed behind him as he moved through the crowd to a table placed in the corner of the room. The high roller table. These men meant business as well. The smoke hung thick in the air and swirled slightly as he moved to the only empty chair. No one at the table seemed to notice him as he slid the chair back and took his seat.
“Gonna cost you 100 just to get in this game,” the dealer said flatly.
Max placed his money on the table in front of him and nodded.
Luck is a funny thing, fleeting at times, but solid at others. Max was solid that night. Pot after pot was pulled in by the new face. It was as if he couldn’t lose. As the players came and went, so did word of his run of good luck…and with that the crowd started to grow.
It was just after midnight when Max looked around for the first time in hours. He was amazed at the number of onlookers. Several of them were pretty shady, in his opinion…and the amount of money in front of him had to look tempting to many others. Several of the girls had already done their best to get their share, but he had not taken the bait.
Max glanced at his pocket watch. He knew the lawman would be making his rounds and should be walking through the saloon doors at any minute. Max was no fool. He would insist that he be escorted out of the saloon and back to his room. He laid down his winning hand and drug yet another pot towards him while the crowd around the table applauded his good fortune.
The next morning Max Number Seven, as he was being called, became the largest depositor in the Edge City bank.
* * * * *
The first arrow pinned his leg to the side of his horse. Both screamed as they tumbled to the ground. Shots rang out all around him, and the war cries echoed through his eardrums. As the dust cleared, the second arrow pierced his heart.
“Kid! They’re all around us!” one of the ranch hands shouted over the noise.
Korey leveled his gun and began snapping off rounds. “Get to the rocks!” he ordered as his men regrouped and began to move toward the small outcropping of stone close by.
Bullets skipped around him and screamed past his ears as he methodically fired round after round at the enemy. The men scrambled uphill to the safety of the boulders as the arrows bounced and struck the stone.
“Not very many of them!” Korey shouted as he reloaded his gun and leapt into the cover of the rocks. “Just keep your heads down and we’ll be ok!”
He looked down the slope at the man pinned beneath the dying horse. It was bad enough dealing with CJ. Now this.
* * * *
“We could help, ya know,” the young trapper whispered to his friend as they both peered over the top of the log at the battle.
“Why should we?” his friend answered.
“We could try talkin’ to them…”
“No way. Buddy of mine tried it last week. Thought he could get safe passage through the gap. Thought because we used to have an understanding, so to speak, he could talk to ‘em.”
Shots continued to ring out as the veteran trapper relayed his story.
“We found him two days ago…scalped as clean as you ever saw. Funny thing was, we found a note pinned to him…said he wasn’t going to be the last.”
“I think we should do something …don’t you?” the young man insisted.
“Just sit tight. This is a small raiding party. They just want the ponies…look, they’re already pulling out.”
Just as the experienced trapper said, the Indians had begun to pull back and away from the hill.
* * * *
The wounded group made their way back to the KGB Ranch, informing everyone along the way that renegades had struck.
Episode Twelve
Things happen fast on the range. Fortunes are found and lost, reputations built and ruined, and storms arise within minutes.
CJ stood on the porch of her newly completed home looking westward. She thought of how things had escalated so rapidly and wondered if there was any way to change the course that she, and others, had taken. The dark clouds boiled and churned as if being dumped from a huge pot, the mass swirling and tumbling towards her. Lightning flashed as she emptied the coffee cup in her hand onto the ground and moved back into the house. It had been raining for days. The rivers were swollen and the ground muddy and soaked. The work on the barn had come to a halt, but some of the men were still out on the range struggling to keep the herds together and the projects moving along.
It was late in the morning when the door burst open and in stepped the foreman. Josh stood in the open doorway, his poncho drenched and his silhouette accented by the flashes of lightning.
“We got a problem, Boss.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“The river’s rising fast and if we don’t get them strays over to this side in a hurry, well…we could be looking at a big loss. I left some of the boys rounding up what they can, but if we’re going to get this done we’re going to need every man we can get.”
“Let’s get them going then…” CJ responded.
“Another thing, Boss.”
“What?”
“With the weather being like it is…well…it’s kinda gettin’ hard to tell whose is whose, ya know? I mean…we could be getting a few of the KGB brand mixed in.” Josh shrugged his shoulders.
“We’re not going to worry about that now, we’ll do what we can and worry about it later. For now, we take what we can.”
* * * *
Whitey turned to Curly, “I think we should do it,” he said.
“You know what’ll happen, don’t ya?” Curly asked. “We blow this dam and it’ll take out half her ranch! Half of her land will be under water! That’s what!” He shouted to his friend as the thunder clapped overhead.
“All we got to do is place a keg of powder at the base. All this rain…that dirt mound won’t hold. And when it blows, it’ll wash away every crossing she’s got. Even when the water goes down, she ain’t going to be able to cross that river!” Whitey shouted back.
“What about the others? The smaller homesteads in the way, Whitey?”
“Don’t matter. It’s gonna come down to only one of us anyways. Might as well wipe them all out at once.”
“You talk to the Kid about this?” Curly hollered as a loud crack of thunder rolled forth.
“Kid’s got other things on his mind. I’m taken this one myself.”
* * * *
Josh checked his watch, the water rolling off the dial as he opened it up. Never seen it so dark this time of day, he thought to himself. All around him, visible only during the brief flashes of lightning, ranch hands worked through the torrential downpour.
Josh urged his mount forward and the waterlogged animal moved slowly in the deep mud. He kept one eye on his boss as she herded a small group of cows toward the makeshift pen. He watched as she worked, methodically waving the lasso and whistling short loud bursts at the animals to get them to move as she directed. It was more than respect he was feeling. More than admiration for her determination and drive. It was a growing feeling of true fondness for her. The lightning flashed once more, and he smiled to himself as he saw her moving closer. The thunder followed, a loud boom echoing all around them, and as another streak lit the sky, she was gone from his sight.
Instantly Josh spun his mount toward the last spot he had seen her and spurred towards it. He shouted her name as he galloped through the mud, seeking her out with each flash of light. As he neared the location, he spotted her lifting herself up from the water soaked ground and rubbing her backside.
He couldn’t help grinning when he asked, “You ok?”
“I’m just fine. Help me find my horse!” she responded between curses.
Josh turned in the saddle and waited for the next bolt of lightning to get a look at what direction her mount might have taken. As he waited a peculiar thing happened, he heard a loud boom, but saw no flash…
* * * *
The rain soaked the two men as they scrambled and crawled along the top of the earthen mound. The small lake had grown three times its size in the last few days and the water was close to the top of the dam.
“Almost there!” Whitey shouted to his friend as they pulled themselves along the muddy path towards the center. “We need to bury this some…get it into the dam a few feet. That’ll work for sure, Curly!”
“Whatever you say, Whitey.”
The wind had kicked up and the rain pelted them as they moved along. At last they reached what Whitey believed to be the middle of the dam and Curly started to dig. As the work progressed, Whitey removed a long piece of fuse wrapped in wax paper from his pocket. “That’s good!” He hollered.
Curly stepped back, the shovel over his shoulder.
“You head back now. I want you well out of the way in case something goes wrong!” Whitey shouted as he set the barrel of powder in the hole.
“You sure? I ain’t scared, Whitey!”
“I know you ain’t, Curly. It’s just that once I light this, I don’t want to have to worry about anyone but me gettin’ off this dam. Understand!”
“Ok, if you say so. I’ll go back and have the horses ready!”
Whitey opened his coat and huddled over the barrel as his friend made his way back to the bank of the river. He carefully opened the wax paper and removed the fuse. He placed it into the powder barrel still hovering over it to protect it from the rain. Reaching into another pocket he removed the matches and waited. After he felt Curly had had enough time to get clear, Whitey struck the match, lit the fuse, and watched as it flashed to life.
Then he ran. His feet sank deep into the mud as he tried to move faster. He scrambled along the top of the mound, slipping and sliding as he did his best to stay on his feet and get clear of the blast. It was dream like…for every step he took, he lost two, but he drove forward. A spectacular flash of lightning revealed he was close, but not out of danger yet. He could see Curly waving him on, shouting for him to hurry as he continued to struggle through the mud.
Then he felt the ground shake beneath his feet.
* * * *
In a moment’s time, Josh realized what he had heard and what was about to happen.
“We’ve got to get!” He shouted as he reached down for her.
“What’s happened?” She asked as he swung her up on the saddle behind him.
“They’ve blown the dam!” Josh shouted. “Hang on!”
The pair raced toward the other men shouting for them to get mounted and ride. Some stood puzzled, while others jumped into action.
“The dam! It’s been blown! MOVE!” CJ screamed out her order.
The confused men snapped out of it once they understood the danger they were in. The water was racing toward them and only a fast horse would get each of them out of this one.
The group started off close, leather snapping as they encouraged their horses to move faster. Josh bent over the neck of his animal and watched as the single riders pulled ahead of them. He knew the two of them would be lucky to get out of this one. CJ’s grip tightened as she realized it as well. There was no way the two of them could make it to the crossing.
The horse’s hooves beat out a steady rhythm as they continued to fall behind the group.
“The burial mound….can we make the mound!” CJ shouted in his ear. The small hill that overlooked her land was much closer than the crossing. Josh turned his horse in the direction of the burial mound, confident the others would make it to the crossing. The flash of lightning outlined the hill in the distance as they raced towards it.
CJ turned and looked behind them. “Faster!” She shouted as the wall of water closed in.
Suddenly the ground pitched and Josh knew they were moving upward. The exhausted animal struggled as Josh spurred his horse to the top of the mound. Josh turned his head just in time to watch the wave surround the small hill.
* * * *
The force of the blast and the ground tearing out beneath him tossed Whitey into the mud. He clawed his way forward as the earth beneath him began to shake and sink.
“Come on Whitey! You can do it! Get up! Get up!” Curly was screaming as he stood watching his friend swim through the rapidly collapsing dirt and mud.
With his last bit of strength he lifted himself from the dirt and was running once more. With each step he took he half expected the ground to be gone, but it remained solid beneath him. Then he was safe. He fell to the ground at his friend’s feet.
“Thought you was a gonner for sure, Whitey. For sure.”
Whitey looked up at his friend. “I need a drink.”
**********************************************************************************
Episode Thirteen
The weather had brought most of the work on the range to a halt, and The Kid was in need of some relaxation.
The saloon was packed. Every drifter and ranch hand within a hundred miles seemed to have shown up at the same time. The Kid recognized some of his own men mingling with some of CJ’s and for the most part, everyone was getting along just fine. Then he saw why. Sitting in the far corner of the room, on a slightly elevated platform with a commanding view of the entire area and a twelve-gauge shotgun in his hands, was the Sheriff. The Kid, like the rest of the town, was well aware that the law had certain interests in the gambling establishments. This one was owned outright by one of the Sheriff’s deputies, Johnny Black.
Shaking off the water from his duster and hat as he went, the Kid made his way to one of the corner tables. He drew out a chair, a wad of money, and settled in… only to look across the table and see Mister Black himself staring him right in the eyes. The Kid had failed to notice him when he pulled up the chair, and now it was too late to get up. He was stuck.
The talkers soon faded, while the real players remained. The Kid played it safe, not betting too big and folding rather than bluffing. The entire time the Gambler across from him never said a word… but he was in control right from the start. As the night wore on, the players dropped out. Many, in that moment of frustration, eyed the Sheriff on the podium, before they mumbled and stormed out.
It was well into the evening and it was now down to three… The Kid, The Gambler, and MaxSeven. A small crowd had gathered around their table, the three betting a lot of money and everyone wanting to see who would clean out who… or who would quit and walk away. The smoke and tension hung thick in the air as all three men continued to risk what they truly could ill afford to lose. Conversation at the table consisted of very few words… “check” or “fold” or “show’em”.
It was almost midnight and the men had been at it for hours when the pot was suddenly growing. The onlookers all knew that this was going to be a breaker for one of the men. The Gambler sat confidently eyeing both Max and The Kid. He had already decided to make this a two-man game. Johnny knew the cards he held had them both beat, but instead he chose to let the two of them slug it out, so he folded. The Kid bet big, and in the end Max walked slowly out into the rain. Now it was just the two of them.
The crowd thinned and the two remained. The Gambler had slowly taken back most of what the Kid had just won, and was the clear winner at the table. Kid Blaze took stock and decided to stop where he was. He was about to inform the other player of his decision when a man, soaking wet and covered in mud, stumbled through the doors of the saloon.
“It’s busted! The Dam had broken!”
Episode Fourteen
The people in the flood devastated community spent the next three weeks pitching in and helping one another through what for many had been a loss of everything. No one in town suspected, nor even considered the notion, that the dam had been blown. The dam’s failure was attributed to flash flooding. Many of the smaller homesteads had indeed been ruined and would never be able to recover. The two ranches that remained grew stronger with each broken dream. As land was abandoned, either the CJW Ranch or the KGB Spread immediately gobbled it up.
* * * * * * * * * *
The old miner had been digging in these hills for years. He had fought off Indians, blizzards, landslides and every varmint on two and four legs that God had created…and now this flood. As he looked down into the water filled hole that had once been his claim, he realized there was no way for him to bounce back from this one. The water had rushed through and swept with it all of his equipment and his hopes. The only thing left was his mule.
“Well, Gertrude…” the old man moved slowly over to his only asset, kicking the dirt with his boot. “Not sure how we’re gonna get out of this one old girl.”
The mule raised its head and looked at its owner, ears twitching as if understanding every word, then brayed lightly.
“I know…I know…” the old miner mumbled to himself as he moved closer to the animal….then he stopped. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Then he reached down and from the moist soil he picked up a small, crystal-like stone. The miner wiped it clean on his pants and held it at arm’s length.
“Well I’ll be…..”
* * * * * * * * * *
As is the case with anything of such importance, word traveled fast. It was soon the biggest news in the country…and the “Diamond Rush” was on. Miners moved in from all over the world and Edge City once again experienced a growth spurt, this time stretching its very skin to the breaking point. Money was flowing and the large ranches were prospering. What had started as a great disaster had turned into a greater benefit to the area. The flood-exposed parts of the land that had been buried for many, many years…uncovering its treasures.
The range war between the two ranches spread across the prairie and into the back woods but was, for the most part, being avoided in town. Fights still broke out, and men still died at the gambling tables, but such was life in the fast growing city. Gunplay and death go hand-in-hand. The Colonel and his men beefed up their patrol, doing their best to keep the citizens safe. But even as diligent as they had become, rats always sneak in.
* * * * * * * * * *
Curly had been in the saddle for most of the morning when he decided to stop and rest beneath the shade of a large oak tree. The temperature had skyrocketed and the air was hot in his lungs. The Kid had sent him to check out several acres of timber in the northern-most region of the KGB Ranch. It was going to take a full day to get there, or so he was told, and most likely another day to check on the condition of the lumber. Timber was going out at a record price, and if there was money to be made…Korey wanted in on it. After resting for a short time, Curly remounted and continued on his way.
The forest was becoming thicker which slowed his progress. Curly maneuvered his mount around obstacles, zigzagging the animal between small saplings and large fallen trees. The soft thump of the horse’s hooves blended with the sounds of the wilderness around him as he moved deeper into the shade. Suddenly all was silent. It was so sudden that Curly instinctively drew his weapon from its holster and began to look in all directions. The breathing of his horse was the only sound that penetrated the silence.
The first arrow sliced the air so close to his head that he was certain he had lost an ear. The next struck his leg just above the knee. Two more whizzed by him before three arrows, in rapid succession, struck the side of his mount. Curly yanked up on the reins, cranking the neck of the dying beast sideways and angling its belly towards their attackers before the horse and rider tumbled to the ground. The crashing sound as the pair struck the forest floor, combined with the death screams of the animal, was deafening. Curly pulled his leg from beneath the animal just in time to avoid getting pinned and in one swift movement was using the horse as a shield, firing over the top of the sprawled animal.
There was no way for him to know how many he was dealing with…but what he did know was that it would be days before anyone would even think to come looking for him.
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Episode Fifteen
Curly James had been in many a bad spot in his time. Stampedes, gunfights, and more than a few of what could be referred to as “illegal activities”. But none compared to the situation he was currently faced with. Alone, wounded, horse dead and plenty of daylight left for whomever it was to finish him off.
When faced with such a predicament, one had few options…and those options were racing through his head as he reloaded his pistol. A quick inventory told him how much ammo he had for his sidearm and his rifle, and it wasn’t much. It was a sure bet that he wasn’t going to shoot his way out of this. He wasn’t going to outrun anyone either. He knew he had to come up with something real quick.
Curly slowly pulled himself up, just easing his eyes over the side of the horse. Instantly, and in rapid succession, half a dozen arrows struck the ground, the dead horse and whizzed passed his head. Instinctively he knew that they must be closing in around him. He was being held in place for them to flank him.
The rains had moistened the forest floor so he began to dig. Using the butt of his rifle, Curly began to scrape out a hole beneath the dead animal, periodically looking around…waiting for the fatal shot to strike him. Once he felt that enough dirt had been moved, he reached down and grasped in his fist the arrow shaft still protruding from his leg. The bleeding had slowed, and he knew he was better off at this point leaving it in. He also knew he needed to break off part of the shaft so he could slide beneath the horse and into his makeshift bunker. With a quick turn of his wrist and a low growl of pain, he broke it off and crawled into position.
* * * * * * * * * *
“So we’re gonna just let them get away with it?” Josh growled under his breath as CJ continued.
“We have zero proof that anyone from The Kid’s ranch had anything to do with it.”
“I know what I heard, and it WASN’T thunder,” Josh added.
“Besides…truth have it, it’s worked out for us as well. We’ve been able to gain more land along the river, and that stretch of timber will pay off very well. What we need to be concerned with right now is holding on to it.”
“What we need to be concerned with right now is getting rid of the competition! We need to make sure they think it’s better to leave than to die. That’s the way of the West and that’s the only way our worries will be over.” Josh locked eyes with his boss. “The ONLY way.”
It was the first time CJ would see that “look”, and it made her shudder. She knew he was right. She knew that only one thing would resolve this feud forever…and it frightened her to death.
After their meeting, Josh pulled several of the men aside and they gathered quietly in the barn.
“We have to do this a certain way. We have to take them out one at a time. Catch them alone, or at most in pairs…starting with those two…what are their names?” Josh asked the group standing around him.
One of the men answered instantly, “Whitey and a guy they call Curly.”
“All right then. They are the first two we look for. And men…don’t miss.”
With a little snooping around and more than a few drinks bought and spilled, the men were able to find out two things. No one had seen either Whitey or Curly since the night the dam burst and no one had a clue as to where they might be.
* * * * * * * * * *
Curly slid down deeper into his bunker, searching left and right for the ones he was sure would be moving in on him. The sun was shifting. It was late afternoon and the shadows in the trees made it hard for him to determine what was… and what wasn’t. He held his breath, focusing all his attention to his hearing…but all he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes strained, searching the dark forest around him…and then he saw them…
