4.
“These desires give birth to sinful actions.
And when sins are allowed to grow, it gives birth to, death.” Doctor Bone
lowered the bottle which he had taken a long gulp. He was seated on the floor
next to Mr. Hitch, the salesman holding the bag of whiskey bottles.
“Pardon me, Doctor. Did you say something about
death?” Mr. Hitch asked.
“Did I? It must have been the drink. I am …. a
doctor. A medical doctor. I have seen many deaths.” Doctor Bone muttered. “Have
you not?”
“Me? No, I have not.” Mr. Hitch replied to the
Doctor.
“Death is alike a drink at the saloon.” The doctor
took another gulp. He had treated many wounded to see them die. “Sometimes you
get one or other days none.”
Both the doctor and salesman had shared the stagecoach
for over day that day and the drinks. They have become friends then. The salesman
who was also an elderly man in his forties and wore a simple jacket over his
white shirt and pants with the dusty shoes. He had on a homburg for his hat. He
had sat there on the flooring with his bag on his extended knees.
“To life and death. It’s a wonder how life
extinguishes itself and then death takes over. I wondered why does it do that?”
Doctor Bone bemoans on the issue that was on his mind. “I am still confused by
it.”
“Here. Have another bottle.” Mr. Hitch handed
the doctor a bottle. He looked to the elderly man who older than him and
dressed just as shabby like him. He had met the doctor in the stagecoach and
out of courtesy, he offered a glass of the drink he was selling. He has been a
salesman of any wares he could think of but his real ware was war. He was
selling anything to stir a war. He had sold guns to the Indians and the
Mexicans, and also the cattlemen who needed something extra. He sold also
information to the Army but then he was selling cheap whiskey to the warring
factions among the Apache to the Sioux. He does not distinguish between the
tribes as long they can pay him in gold pieces.
“Hey, Hitch is it? These whiskeys are
terrible.” Doctor Bone lowered the bottle he had drink more than half.
“These are not the best but I got buyers for
it.” Mr. Hitch replied. He then looked away and saw the other lady seated on
the corner. He got up and approached her. He passed by me then and I raised a
question to him.
“Hey, Mr. Hitch, right? I am…” I was snapped
off by the salesman.
“Kid, I know who you are. I saw you kill a man
once.”
“Wow! I am that famous.” I laughed. I had
killed some men before but it was all in straight fights. I do not shoot anyone
in the back.
“I was at the saloon that day when you shot the
gambler.” Mr. Hitch explained. “He was reaching for his gun. A hidden one.”
I was rather surprised then. I was not sure if
anyone saw the other person pulled the derringer. I have a witness then. It
will buy me back my freedom.
“Hey, Wilcox. He was there.” I called the
Marshall. Marshall Wilcox seated there by the table with Bucks looked at me.
“Kid, he can testify to the Judge when you are
on trial. Until then, my hands are tied.” I cussed at the Marshall for his
insistence to bring me in. I looked at the salesman.
“Tell him … No, tell me now. What did you see
that day?”
“I …. I saw nothing. I was mistaken.” Mr. Hitch
had changed his mind. I was dismayed that the Salesman had told a lie then.
“You said so just now. You saw the shooting.
Why are you lying now?”
“No…. I was mistaken.” I saw Mr. Hitch left me
in the lurch. I looked to the others. The drunken doctor, the lady, and then to the stagecoach driver. “All of you heard
him just now.”
No one defended me. I felt the tiredness in my
body. I slumped down onto the flooring and looked to the irons on my wrist.
“Hey, Kid. You will get a fair trial.” Marshall
Wilcox spoke to me. “I will speak to the Judge. It’s the only way you can ride
free. No one will hunt you anymore. Not even me. It will be like James Town.”
I looked up at the Marshall. We were friends.
We had met some years back soon after I was arrested by a local sheriff. The
town folks were not too keen to see a judge trial and they formed a lynching
party. I was dragged out and taken to the nearby cherry tree. The rope was hungover and then I was placed on the horse with my hands secured with the ropes.
“Howdy, Sheriff. Am I to see a lynch here?” I
had looked up and seen the lone figure on the horse had just arrived then.
The lynching group was about ten men with vengeance in their minds, and that
included the Sheriff. It was a pity that I shot dead the rancher then whose
spread was bigger that of my arms.
“Stay away, Stranger. This is our town matter.”
The Sheriff had defended the action then. He then reached for the horse rump to
slap it but the right hand did not reach it. Instead, his right hand was wounded
by the bullet fired by the new arrival. I recalled then clasping my legs to the
saddle to prevent the horse form bolting off.
“I am Marshall Wilcox, and I held authority
over this territory. Release that man or my next bullet will be at your neck.”
That was how I cheated death that day.
“Marshall, James Town will be nothing compared
to today. We are facing Apaches here. Tomorrow those army riders will be
leaving you to your own fate, The Army cannot be protecting you for long.
Please release me so that I can battle next to you. I don’t want to be alive
when the Apaches take us.”
Doctor Bone heard the Kid. He had seen the
killing done by the Apaches. Once it made him angry how they can kill anybody
in those manners but he heard the plight of the Apaches from the traders who
lived with them. That was why he could befriend with the salesman. The Apache
tribes fought the invading Spanish and Mexican peoples for centuries. When the United
States went to war on Mexico, the Apaches allowed safe passages through their
land but the discovery of gold triggered the last Apache War. He could see the
people suppressed had to vent their anger in some ways and life in the land was
tough.
“Nobody going to die here. Or tomorrow.”
Marshall Wilcox replied to the Kid.
At dawn tomorrow, the parting was to take part.
“Marshall, we have our orders. We need to ride
to find the Apaches.” Lieutenant Blanchard looked to the Marshall. He had seen
the stagecoach passengers moving towards the stagecoach. Bucks had hitched on
the refreshed horses and the bags were loaded. His own men had mounted and
waiting for orders.
“I am aware of that. I won’ stop you. We will
be fine. Once we reached Apache Falls, we cross the river.”
“That will give you an advantage. The place to
cross is there or another twenty-five miles down the river.” Lieutenant
Blanchard knew the land well. He saw Mrs. Mallory approaching him.
“Lieutenant Blanchard, I want to say thank you.
You take care of yourself.” That taken care of then, and the stagecoach was
ready to leave. The Lieutenant left a parting gift of two rifles to the
Marshall.
“I will be of some assistance.” The rifles came
with fifty bullets. Mrs. Mallory was helped on by Mr. Hatfield, the quiet lady
named Ms. Dallas, and then Doctor Bone followed by Mr. Hitch. I was the last to
board, seated next to Mr. Hitch. Bucks held the horse reins with the
Marshall boarding next as the shotgun rider. The stagecoach took the route to
Apache Falls while the Calvary detachment left for the hills.
5.
“Marshall, it looks like we have another
passenger.” Bucks motioned to the Marshall of the solitary figure in front of
them. It was a man dressed in the suit and holding a duffel bag. He was armed
with a rifle and water canteen.
“Gatewood, Henry Gatewood.” The man who hailed
the stagecoach to stop. “I need a ride.”
The stagecoach
could sit eight but the level of comfort will be comprised. The new arrival sat
next to me. He held onto the bag as if his life depended on it with the rifle
leaned on the right side.
“Do I know you, Sir?” I was shaken back to
reality by the man asking me the question. I was staring at him as if he could
have recognized me then. He may be a foe or a friend but either way, he looked
familiar.
Henry looked away from my gaze. He held back to
the bag and then I noticed the mark on the bag. It read “Union Express”. He saw
me looking and covered it with his left hand.
Henry seated to the right faced the window of
the stagecoach. He had ridden off in the small carriage with the stash of
railway’s bonds. He stole it from the Bank or lifted it off the Manager there
whom he had shot in the Bank Office. He left the body in the vault to be opened
the next day and stepped into the saloon. He was having his drink when he saw
the Kid killed the other. It was a fair fight from his view. The other drew a hidden
gun. He saw the other fall, and the Kid walked off. He also saw the other
gentleman picked up the derringer. He just could not remember who was it then.
It all happened so fast.
But Henry could not care less. He was more
concerned on the bag.
“No, Mister. The stagecoach is full. You have
to take the one here in two days.” Henry heard the stagecoach ticket master. He
had no choice and took off to a nearby settlement, paid the farmer to let him
stay in the barn. It was most unusual for he was no cowboy in dressing; he was
not one to rough it out. The farmer offered him the stay in the house. He took
it willingly but with his stares to the road leading to the house, No one came
but he had to extend his stay. The stagecoach was not available for the next
few days citing Apache troubles. He had to leave the area. The bonds would have
been declared missing when the Manager was found. There may be a hunt for him.
He did what was deemed necessary, he took a horse from the farmer. He could not
pay for it but promised to come back. The farmer had no choice with the gun
pointed at the chest, Henry also took the rifle and extra bullets, He was going
to chance the Apache. He was desperate and no one appreciates his action.
Just like when he ignored the Kid of his innocence.
Life is never fair, Kid. I am the proving
proof.
“Tell me, Mr. Hitch. Were you there?” I had to
raise the question. “Were…”
“No, I lied. I was not there.” Mr. Hitch
replied. “Stop asking me.”
It was then I lurched forward with my hands to
strangle the liar but in the cramped conditions, I scared the ladies. Mr.
Hatfield lashed out with his left fist into my right shoulder when Mrs. Mallory
screamed. I fell to the side and was stepped on by Mr. Hitch. We were then
slammed to the rear when the stagecoach stopped abruptly. I heard the door
opened and was kicked out by someone. I believed it to Mr. Hitch. I fell on the
hard ground facing the Marshall.
“Kid, tell me what happened.”
“I asked him a question and he …” My reply was
cut off by Mrs. Mallory.
“He is a beast. He attacked Mr. Hitch and Mr.
Hatfield stopped him.” That was the truth from Mrs. Mallory. I knew better than
to lie then. I was pulled up by the Marshall.
“He can’t travel with us.” Mr. Hitch presented
his point to get rid of me. “Give him a horse and let him go.”
“I can’t do that, Mister. He is with me and
more to that, we have no spare horses.” Marshall Wilcox looked to the area
around him. All he could make out was sands and the distant hills. The Kid may
not last two days out there not so when the Apaches are nearby. He can feel them
at the back of his neck ever since they left the Outpost an hour ago. He had
wished the Calvary given them an escort to Apache Falls but that was the past.
“Give him a gun and make him walk.” Mr.
Hatfield queued up with his words. “I am concerned for the ladies.”
I looked at those heartless men I had shared my
time over the last day. I wished I had my guns and they would have died by now.
“Unshackle me, Marshall. I will take my chances
here.” I pleaded with the Marshall. It was best to die with my boots on than to
share another day with these vultures.
“No, Kid. You stay with us. He will travel with
me on the driver seat.” The Marshall declared. “It’s another two hours to
Apache Falls. There we will split up.”
“Howdy, folks. I suggest we move on. I can see
Geronimo in the distance by the mound of sands.” It was Bucks and his warning
was timely. I saw the dismounted passengers boarded back while I was hauled to
the stagecoach seat. I spied the other lady looking at me, with her
expressionless look. Ms. Dallas was her name and she had remained quiet all the
time. She was a beauty in the looks and out here, we don’t have many choices of
that.
“Kid, I am releasing the irons. You give me no
trouble or I will have you tossed out of the stagecoach.” Marshall Wilcox
removed the irons on my wrist. “Now you hold this rifle. The more shooter, we
may just survive this journey.”
Those were the same words The Marshall had told
him that day soon after he was saved from the lynching. They had ridden out but
soon enough the posse was on their trail. The Marshall had passed him the spare
gun belt with the gun; it was once the possession of a cattle rustler but he
had died escaping. They rode hard into the hills where their tracks can be
untraceable in the hard rocks. The posse was a sizeable one of elven men and
they were keen to catch up. The Marshall had led posse before and for one who caught
up after a four hours lapse was either dedicated to the task or have a hefty
reward for capturing the Kid. He had questioned the Kid on the crime he has done.
“All I did was call the other’s bluff at the
cards.” Marshall Wilcox looked at the younger man riding with him. He reckoned
the Kid whom he was told the name later in their ride, was too young to gamble
let alone knew of the tricks up the sleeves.
“I learned when young from my Uncle. He was a
gambler. And taught me how to shoot.” I told the Marshall. I did not mean to
kill the other man but he drew first. I guessed most of my reputation came from
my draw and most of them were over the card game.
Both the Marshall and I rode hard and long
that journey. Soon we were cleared of the posse. We called it quits and when I
was to ride off, the Marshall told me who was pursuing me.
“It’s the family.
You killed their second son. Luke ‘Old Man’ Plummer was a cattle baron and he
was not a forgiving man. He will hunt you if you ever come back.”
“Marshall, how did you know?” I asked then,
“He offered me the task when I rode in but I
declined, I heard the real outcome at the saloon and reckoned you are innocent.
I don’t persecute the innocents. And Kid, you have a reputation. You do not
shoot in the back and held a fair fight. So young Plummer's death may be his own
fault.”
“Presumption, Marshall.”
“Unless I am proven wrong. I am never to judge
another. I leave it to the Judges. I will not hold my conscience on accusing
another of killing unless I have my own doubts.” With that the Marshall and
myself parted ways. We did meet later but that’s another tale.
