The Gunfighter trail... - A Western

[hvj1]

Thank you very much, CKkalyan and XL, believe me without all of your support, I would not have the drive to continue.
Thanks again.

[hvj1]

Chapter Ten

Reaching the top of the ridge, Will suddenly went to his knees retching, rolling over he crawled to the closest tree and sat with his back to it. His body trembled as the shock of incident gradually overcame him. He had killed a man!

His response to Toby was instinctive self preservation, had the man not made a move towards his gun, he would have probably tried to take him alive.

Gradually, Will took control of his thoughts, which were running in all directions. No! The deed was done, it was self defense and in any case Toby was to die by his hands. So now was as good a time as ever. The horror that he had felt was slowly receding, slowly he got a grip on himself.

What was Toby doing here in the first place? The matches and the beginnings of a fire, indicated that he had interrupted him just before he could send a smoke signal. The pile of wood gathered, showed that those whom he had tried to warn, were a good distance away. Getting back to his feet, Will looked in the general direction, the wagon train would take. There were still two mountain ranges to be crossed. Anywhere between here and those two ranges would be the probable location of the ambush.

His attention was drawn to the belt, which he had absent mindedly put down, while resting against the tree. Picking it up, he was surprised by its sheer weight. It was eight inches wide and had eight square pouches held fast with brass buttons. Opening them one by one, he was shocked to see twenty dollar gold coins spilling out! Checking all the pockets he could roughly estimate the amount as close to three thousand dollars! This was a huge fortune in those days, where a cowhand and other daily wages were a dollar a day! Fastening the pockets once again, he wore the belt allowing his buckskin shirt to fall over and cover it.

Before returning to his horse, he set Toby’s horse free and tossed the pistol over the drop to fall somewhere near the body. Mounting up, he made his way back to his camp site. The wagon train meanwhile had moved, covering a few miles. This time it was being led by one of Toby’s companion, who was unaware that the signal for the ambush had not been sent.

Removing all traces of his overnight camp, saddling his horse, Will mounted up, preparing to scout ahead. He spent the rest of the day searching for signs of the other group. Towards dusk, stopping near a spring to water his horse and to rest up a bit, he crossed a horse trail. The trail was that of a shod horse not too many hours old! After allowing his horse to drink his fill, he followed the trail, till it petered out into a forest. Dismounting Will crept ahead, the forest seemed peaceful, but he could take no chances.

The sound of chopping wood in the distance made him pause, getting down to his belly, he moved forward. He could now hear voices! Bellying down into a small gully, he inched forward through dense bushes. Through the leaves he could now partially make out a camp.

Several horses were tied in the far corner, with a guard lounging casually on the ground. The rest of the group were engaged in desultory conversation, some having coffee, others busy playing cards, while the remaining attended to small chores.

Even as he observed the camp, a rider made his way towards the group, from the opposite side to where Will lay. Crossing a small stream, he splashed his way to the group. A figure lying on the ground cast aside the blanket covering him and propped himself up on one elbow. It was Burney!

“Any sign?” asked Burney, to which the rider shook his head, getting down from his horse, he helped himself to some coffee. Burney, proceeded to chew a stem of grass. “Yer think the Wagons would have come around by now?” remarked one of the card players. “ No telling”, they could be held up, or resting someplace” replied Burney.
“ Should be here in a day or two at the most”, said the rider, sipping his coffee while breaking a piece of meat being broiled on a small fire.

“Yaah! I’m a getting tired of sittin round here” said one of the group, whose back was to Will. So saying he threw the cards down to the ground and got to his feet, blearily looking around at the rest of the group.
Will started, this was the man who had knifed his father! He stared keenly at the fellow. Dressed in rough clothes, scuffed boots with worn down heels, the man was unkempt.

“Whats biting yer Ike?” “Fer as I can see, yer having a good time just lolling bout” said Burney calmly.
The others sniggered, to which Ike glared around, the rest of the group avoided his stare returning their attention back to their cards. Clearly, Ike was not to be fooled around with.

Hitching up his trousers, Ike moved to the fire, “Burney, I don’t cotton to this ere place, feel cooped up like’r pidgin”. “ Been hangin around ere for what, four days now?”
“So?” asked Burney, tossing away the grass stem and coming to his feet. “ What yer reckon we shoulda be doin eh?” Burney helped himself to some coffee and sat on a tree stump.
“Waal….I dunno, yer the brains, yer tell me?” Burney grinned “Ike, yer feelin yer oats, that’s what there is botherin yer, after we get thru this one, we are goin to take us a visit to the Salt lake city ladies”. This aroused a ragged cheer from the rest of the crowd.

“Any way, this is to be our last job” said Burney, “Big Jacob’s gone and become respectable, feels we all’ve done enough and this game is gettin tricky now, with more n more travelers and sooner n later, somebody is gonna ask too many questions”

Ike grunted his assent. “Heck, Big Jacob’s holdin most of ourn money.”
“ Aye, trust him, he is a shrewd one at that, we all stand to make it big”, replied Burney.
“So where is it he put the money”? asked Ike.
“ In a gold mine, down Californy” said Burney. Ike contemplated sipping his coffee.
“You think they’ll show up tomorrow?” Asked the rider. Shrugging Burney replied carelessly, with a disdainful laugh, “Heck, Bob, where yer think they will go anyway?” in a day or a coupla days, I figure Toby will give us the signal, yer go n check every day, that’s yer job, the rest we’ll take care off.”

Satisfied that he had heard enough, Will eased himself through the bushes back to his horse. Leading the stallion, he mounted up well away from the camp. Good!, he thought, let them wait for two days more, in the meantime, the wagons could have moved out of the mountain ranges and well away from the gang!

Or so he hoped, unless Toby’s companions thought otherwise. They would bear a closer watch, he would have to risk hanging around much closer to the camp, now that was going to be a bit tricky, but it had to be done. He must know, what their plans were, they must move on or he would be compelled to take some action which would reveal his presence, something he was completely averse to.

It was almost night, when he spied the camp fire, once again he had to creep up close to the camp. The womenfolk were lighting up the cooking fires, in the centre of the Wagon circle, near a smaller fire, the men had gathered around, holding a meeting of sorts. Teales, Smithy, Gunnarson, Baker, Morgan, Hammond and Toby’s companions were sitting around.

An argument was ensuing, it appeared that Toby’s companions wanted the families to stay put, whereas all the men representing the wagon train wanted to pull on. Outnumbered, Toby’s companions sat in sullen silence. “Its not as if Tobys returned the same day, he will join us further on”, said Teale, putting to rest all further discussion. Satisfied that all was going well, Will withdrew to find an adequate campsite of his own.

The next morning, the wagon trail moved early, it looked as if they wished to cross the final mountain range early. Will took his time, eventually, overtaking the wagon trains by late afternoon. By then they were making good time and finally camped at the outskirts of ‘Raft River Town’ named after the Raft river itself.

[jitu sati]

hey hvj
did'nt know u were a gr8 western writer in addition to being a gr8 shooter. this reminds of my school and college days when my bag invariably would have a Louis L'Amour or a JT Edson. still remember my favourite L'Amour 'Reilly Luck" . i stil have a collection of 10 L'Amours and 2/3 Edsons. wow man u just took me back in time. thx. Lage Raho and let us enjoy
jitu

[hvj1]

Hi Jitu,
'Reilly's Luck' is also one of my favourites, what with the three old outlaws, who are Reilly's Godfather friends. Beautiful story that.
Thanks

[Biren]

G8 .......Wat more to say.... after a long long time.....

Cheers
Biren

[hvj1]

Thanks Biren.

[jitu sati]

hey hvj
that book inspired me a lot when i was in college. especially the advice Wil Reiley gives to Val about how to depend on no one but himself to survive the wild west. after i wrote the post i went back to my book cabinet and read a few chapters on reileys luck. it is magic
jitu

[dev]

Great stuff, please keep it up, while I roll out the makin's...

[hvj1]

Chapter Eleven

On the outskirts of the Rafter River Town, several wagon trains were camped. Some would take the Oregon or the California Trail. Here they would rest up, barter goods, conduct repairs and exchange information. ‘Rafter River Town’ or ‘Rafter’ as it was called for short, probably started off as a humble trading post, eventually as the emigrant traffic increased, owing to the California Gold Rush of 1848, the post gradually took the shape of a town.

Will, walked his horse along the street, taking in the signs of the stores, saloon, houses and other establishments. His attention was drawn to a sign on a large store, ‘Jacobs Store’ it said. Without pausing, he continued on, tying his horse outside an eating place, he walked in, taking a position which would afford him a view of the store.

Mary’s Eating Place, served meals to the wayfarers on the frontier trail, the dining area had long wooden trestles and benches, which were occupied with customers engaged in the serious business of putting away large quantities of food. A fixed menu proclaimed a diet of beans, bacons, beef steaks, and coffee.

Ordering his food, he studied all those around him carefully. Most were miners on their way to California, a couple of drummers and a few locals who were busy discussing amongst themselves.‘Jacobs Store’, seemed to be doing fair business in supplying wherewithal’s to the wagons going west. He finished his beef and beans, wiping it clean with some bread. Satisfied, he helped himself to some coffee, which was hot and strong. Conversation all around him, more or less centered on travel along the rough trail. Finishing his coffee, which he paid for with some loose change he carried, obtained as wages at Fort Bridger.

He was wary of spending the gold coins, since hard currency was scarce, most of the trade being done here and along the trail was chiefly through barter. Also, anybody with hard currency was the object of uninvited attention, both from the good as well as bad elements.

Walking out of Mary’s, he felt the money belt heavy around his middle. Walking slowly along the street, he came across another store which catered mostly in clothes.Stepping in, he surveyed the rows and rows of folded clothes, boots, blankets and such like. Placing an order for several shirts, a couple of the new rugged jeans, he moved on to select tough durable looking pair of boots. Trying on a wide brimmed black Stetson which he cottoned to, he added it to his list of purchases. With a few other odds and ends, he walked to the counter only when there was a lull in business, with no customer to witness his transaction.

He placed a twenty dollar gold coin, the owner collected it glanced at him politely and with not too much curiosity. Heaving an inward sigh of relief, scooping up the welcome change, he walked out with his purchases, in search of a suitable resting place.

Putting his horse in the care of the local hostler, he made his way to the only hotel in town, 'The Imperial'. The hotel had a broad dining room, with a curving staircase going up to the rooms on the first floor. Paying before he was handed over the key, Will let himself into the luxury of a simple frontier room, which boasted of a single window overlooking the street, a bed, a basin and a chair.

Later, treating himself to a hot water bath downstairs, Will decided to change into his new outfit. He studied himself in the mirror. He saw a slightly built young man with sinewy whip cord muscles, pronounced shoulders tapered to slim hips. Thatched dark brown hair fell over slightly, on a broad forehead, flinty grey eyes, set over slightly high cheek bones which sloped down to a strong jaw.

Standing a couple of inches short of six feet, a woman could be drawn to look a second time, attracted to his natural gracefully well coordinated movements, which had the touch of a feline quality to it.

Changing into a new shirt and jeans, he pulled on his boots, putting on his hat, he glanced at himself. Satisfied with what he saw, he shrugged into his fringed buckskin jacket. Sticking his knife in his belt, he stepped out of his room walking down the stairs.

Ordering breakfast in the dining room of the hotel, he found that the company here seemed to be more genteel. The room was filled with tables carefully set with eastern style crockery and cutlery. Most of the tables were taken by gentlemen, who seemed to have recently travelled from the east. Some were involved in discussions, which he could partly over hear and wished to overhear, without seeming to eaves drop.

This indeed was a good place for information and news. A waiter took his breakfast for the ‘usual’, ‘usual’, being bacon, eggs, sausages, bread and plenty of coffee. A folded newspaper was placed on his table, Will read through the two page news, which mostly covered the ‘Gold Rush’ and the thousands of emigrants heading to California. The daily output of the mines and rise of lawlessness.

Breakfast was served and Will tucked into it in a measured manner, mimicking those eating around him. Two gentlemen seated themselves at a table close by. One of them was explaining in considerable detail the operation of his company back east. ‘Wells Fargo’ they called themselves and they were setting up a network from New York in the East to California on the West Coast.
“Wells Fargo” would offer banking services and handle freight from the East Coast to the West Coast,” spoke one of the gents.
“That’s all very well Sir,” replied the other gent, with a distinctive beard. “Its being done here already, anybody with a safe and room can offer the same, as far as handling freight is concerned, anybody with a freight wagon could do it too. “
“Why I myself provide the same services here, not so much banking though, but I handle a lot of freight”.
“Yes, Mr. Cartwright, I am quite aware of it”, replied the Wells Fargo man.” That is precisely why I have made an offer to you Sir”. “ It would be wonderful and highly profitable, if you were to join our network, taking care of the Rafter to Salt Lake City route”. “You see in addition to your own existing freight, we could provide you additional business from our end”. "You not only make your profits on your existing business, but also gain through additional profits accrued from us."
“Furthermore, you could earn handsome commissions on all the deposits collected here”.
“Well I will certainly look into it, Mr. Coleman, I need to study the matter, also there is the other matter of additional capital to be staked”.
“Then perhaps if you were willing, you could take on a partner”, said Coleman.
“Umm, I’m afraid that’s not quite so simple here Mr. Coleman, You see around you, everybody is in a rush to seek gold, while I admit there is gold here for the taking, in the business of supplying essential services, but finding the right person here is presently quite difficult.” Coleman, smiled and nodded politely.

Will, having heard enough on the subject, paid for his breakfast and moved out of the hotel. He thought about the conversation between the two gents, well there was somethin there in what Coleman had said. He himself was placed in a position, where he needed to put Toby’s money in safe keeping. Why a shrewd investor could double the amount if properly invested!

Hard currency commanded the best bargains out here, where barter seemed to be the order of the day, while conducting business. He must think about it more and study the matter in greater detail.

As he casually leaned against a post, he saw a group of horsemen trooping into town from one end of the street. Led by none other than Burney and Ike! The group split up, with Burney and Ike proceeding up the street towards Jacob’s Store.

Will watched with grim satisfaction, at least he had managed to save one wagon train! Revenge is best served cold! He must bide his time and wait for an opportunity to present itself, before he could strike again as silently.

But first he must equip himself the new guns in the market. Also he must learn to be proficient in their use.
But he could not risk spending any more twenty dollar gold coins, sooner or later, it was bound to raise a few eyebrows, least of all he could not risk the wrong set of eyebrows to be raised.

Mr. Coleman appeared from the hotel, pausing on the hotel sidewalk to light his pipe. Will thought quickly, sure that he had not been noticed in the hotel, he addressed Coleman; “Pardon me Sir, I am new in this town and I was wondering if you could direct me to a reputable banker here?” Coleman put out his match and glanced keenly at the young man in obvious store bought clothes.
“What amount do you have in mind” he replied casually with a tolerant smile.
“Perhaps we could discuss it inside a bit more privately?” Said Will. Coleman consulted his pocket watch before replying, “A minute then young man, as I am in a bit of a hurry”. So saying they went back and seated themselves across a table.

Will thought swiftly before speaking, “Sir, My name is William Kieffer and I represent a few Mormon businessmen”. Will deliberately changed his name from O’Keefe to Kieffer, since the Irish were not looked upon favorably in some parts of America. Also he did not want his real name to be known in ‘Rafter’, just in case Burney and Jacob had struck an acquaintance with his father.

At the mention of Mormon business, Coleman, perked up visibly. ‘Ah! And how may I be of assistance to you Mr. Kieffer and er …your business associates?”
“Well, we are looking to first and foremost find a reputable banker who could handle all our transactions from Fort Bridger to California.”
“And what would be the nature of your transactions and the er…amount involved?” Asked Coleman
“Initially we would like to look around, till a suitable business opportunity arose, but chiefly we are looking at freight handling from Fort Bridger or thereabouts to the California Gold Mining towns”.
Coleman set aside his pipe carefully, “That is certainly very interesting, Mr. Kieffer, but the size of the business you and your partners are thinking off will determine the course of my advice.”

Unable to avoid committing himself to a figure, he nevertheless ploughed on, “Perhaps you could advise me on how much it would cost to set up a freight line from say Rafter to California, I would then be able to tell you whether we could be in a position to invest?”

Coleman, looked at Will keenly, his morning conversation with Cartwright had not gone along the lines he was hoping and then here was this young fellow, who appeared to be merely fishing around, wasting his time.

Getting a bit tired of the conversation, which seemed to be going nowhere, Coleman, replied “Young man, it costs almost fifteen hundred dollars to get at least six wagons to move from here to California, this would include change of ox teams at various places in between and many other details which would take a lot of time to explain".
"Now if you think you are in a position to invest such a large amount, then yes, I could recommend you a suitable course of action, otherwise, you will pardon me, since I am pressed for time.”

“We can cover fifteen hundred dollars Mr. Coleman”

Coleman who was in the process of rising, stopped for a moment, then eased back in his chair. “You mean, you really can invest that amount?” Will nodded.

Frowning, Coleman, relit his pipe. Not fully believing him, he asked, “And in what form do you have this money?”
“In Gold”, replied Will.
“Dust or..”
“ Twenty dollar gold coins”

Coleman let out a breath, composing himself. Why? He thought, the Wells Fargo company itself had formed with an initial equity of a thousand dollars and here was this young fellow, talking off fifteen hundred dollars like he was dickering horses!

“You have it here, now?” Asked Coleman.
“Yes” replied Will.
“Then I suggest Mr. Kieffer that we conduct our business in my office across the street”. So saying, Coleman, placed his hat and bade Will to follow him.

The Wells Fargo Office was a solid stone building, comprising an office, a room which housed the safe and living quarters for Coleman adjoining the building at the rear. Seated in the office, Coleman outlined the procedure for joining the Well Fargo network.

They spent over an hour going over the details of the banking and freight hauling business. It was decided to buy the new 'Prairie Schooners', manufactured by the Studebaker company, which would be delivered at Fort Bridger. Will would act as a Wells Fargo agent, though effectively, he would be a business partner hauling freight from Fort Bridger to California.

Coleman drew up the necessary documents while Will deposited three thousand dollars, with instructions for immediate use of Fifteen hundred dollars, as his investment as a partner in the new freight lines. The remaining fifteen hundred dollars would be kept in safe keeping, to be made available to him, at any Wells Fargo office from New York to California.

Coleman, assured Will, that he would sent a rider back to St. Louis, Missouri, where the new wagons would be purchased and delivered at Fort Bridger. In fact, the wagons would collect freight from Missouri itself.
Since it would take almost two months, Coleman advised him to stay put in Rafter itself, taking charge of the Wells Fargo office. Coleman himself would be going back to New York and would be at Fort Bridger, in two months time. In the mean time Will could move into the Wells Fargo office, living and operating from the building itself.

Coleman next took him around Rafter, introducing him to some of the important people, as the ‘man in charge’ of the Wells Fargo lines. Will moved over that very evening with his belongings, into the warm spacious quarters of the Wells Fargo Office building.

The next day, Coleman, introduced him to the security guard and a negro who together looked after after the Wells Fargo building. Thomas Meriweather, was a former mountain man and fur trapper, who had taken on the job of security guard after the fur business had collapsed with the dying out of fashion of wearing beaver hats.

Meriweather could have been anything between forty to sixty, of wrinkled round visage, broad in frame. He moved with slow deliberate movements and looked peaceable enough, yet, the former mountain man was more than handy with handgun, rifle, knife or tomahawk.

Before leaving for the East, Coleman presented Will, with two of the finest and latest weapons to make their way to the frontier. Two Colt 'Navy', six shot .36 caliber revolvers. In addition to these, he handed over a new .52 Cal. Sharpe’s Rifle.

[ckkalyan]

Very captivating chapter hvj1 - Congratulations!

[hvj1]

Very captivating chapter hvj1 - Congratulations!

Thanks CKkalyan,
Hmm,so I seem to be on the right course. Just for your information, i must have read more than a hundred westerns. Written by a great many authors beside the really greats as we know. One day, i was clearing out my trunk full of these old westerns, i retained only those books whose authors had gripped me with their style and substance. The rest had no substance, some had too much unprovoked childish violence, some were mere fairy tales with a dab of frontier garnishing. Till today, my favorite is Louis L'amour, mostly for his simple charachters, simple theme (Good Vs Bad), Terrific background.
Finally, as i write my story, i am trying to incorporate all the points which have kept me 'captivated' as you say. So as the story unfolds, you will find it getting more and more interesting (hopefully) as the charachter is fleshed out within the context of a realistic background.
Thanks again.

[hvj1]

Chapter Twelve

The next day, leaving Henry, the Negro, in charge of the office, Meriweather, or ‘Merry’, as he was called by the town folk, rode out with Will a few miles away from town. Drawing up into a box canyon, Merry showed Will, how to load and fire the Sharpe Rifle.

Breaking open a packet of .52 Cal. 50 grain cartridges, he fed a cartridge in the first breech loading rifle of the frontier. Flipping over the ladder sight, he aimed at an old buffalo skull, not more than a hundred yards away. Will stood by, watching with a small smile in anticipation of the shot. The rifle bellowed, a moment later, the skull disintegrated!

Merry, smiled and looked up “Alright Will, you go ahead and try er, remember all that I told ya, take it slow n easy, get the feel of er”.

Will buckled down to one knee, hefting the heavy rifle to his shoulder, using the under lever to open the breech, he loaded a cartridge. Placing the butt to his shoulder firmly, he gripped the rifle, sighting down the barrel.
Taking a slow breath to steady himself, he slowly let out half a breath, Then holding his aim, he squeezed on the trigger.

The bellow and belch of the rifle almost knocked him over! Flinching, he had momentarily lost sight of his target.
The bullet had kicked a puff of dust, way ahead of the target missing it altogether! His shoulder felt like it had been kicked by a mule, the muscles felt numb and his ears were ringing.

The next few shots followed the same pattern, Will flinched instinctively, resulting in the shot missing its mark by a distance.
“Ere, now hold up there boy.” “Forget the durned target, just you set yourn eyes on that there front bead n ride her through.” Tis like ridin a buckin horse, get a good grip n yer eyes wide open.” Merry yelled from the rear.

Taking a deep breath, Will squeezed of the next few shots, keeping his eye on the front sight. It was as Merry had said, almost like riding a bucking horse, instinctively, Will took a firmer grip on the rifle and he could now clearly see the movement of the jumping barrel and moments later the shots kicking up dust.

“Ar ya riding her through the shot?” Yelled Merry again. Will nodded grimly, “Ya sure?”
”Aye I’m sure, can see where the bullets goin now.”
“Good”, roared Merry, “now keep that durned sight on the target, n hold on till she bucks n comes back to rest, if yer holding her right she will be pointin back to where yer aimin at after n shot.” N’ don’t wrestle with er, go along with er.”

Resting for a moment, Will thought a while on what Merry had said, his shoulder and back had already gone numb! Hefting the rifle up, taking a firm grip, he fired the next shot, letting his body sway back and front to rest with the barrel pointing more or less in the direction of the shot.

“Good”, now peek through the back sight n keep the front bead n line with it”, advised Merry around a lump of tacky bulging in one side of the cheek.

This time Will picked a stump for a target, sixty yards away. Checking his sights as advised by Merry, he loaded and gripped the rifle firmly. The rifle bellowed, Will keeping his eyes along the aligned sights, rode the shot, his body going along with the recoil. The bullet smashed the stump on the left side, ripping a deep white gash. Merry yelled in appreciation.

After a few more shots, most of which found their mark, Will broke off for a much deserved rest. His back and shoulder felt bruised with the battering of the bucking heavy recoil of the Sharpe. Stiffly propping himself against a tree, he sipped on the proffered cup of coffee. Merry got out their lunch, thick ham sandwiches slapped between two slices of white bread. Tucking in hungrily, they washed it down with hot coffee, strong enough to float a horse shoe.

Taking a short nap, Merry came awake an hour later, to the bellow of the Sharpe. Will had hunkered down with a box of cartridges and was pegging away gamely at the tree stump, which slowly and surely was being obliterated, as shot after shot tore deep gouges and threw up a shower of splinters.

Grunting with satisfaction, Merry pulled his hat brim lower and with half closed eyes watched Will blasting away. Gaining confidence, Will chose different targets, at greater distances; with lesser shots, he was finding his mark, as he figured out the use of the rear sight.

Eventually running out of ammunition, he too called it a day, trooping back with the rifle to join Merry in the shade, who was now snoring away loudly. Nudging him awake with a fresh cup of coffee, Merry then showed Will how to clean the rifle and take care of it.

“Yer shot away all the ammunition?” Will nodded. “Now that there is a fool thing to do, never shoot away all yer ammo boy, always keep extry in the saddle bag or spares fer the way back home, just n case”. “This ere land is sure is unforgivin to fools son! Fat lot n emty rifle l’ do, iffin yer come across trouble.”

“You expecting trouble here?” Will queried. “Here n everywhere son”, I kept my hare all these years, always expectin trouble n being prepared fer it”. Will nodded at the well intentioned rebuke.

They reached Rafter just before sundown. Will was by now quite stiff in the shoulders and back. Grimacing as he got down from his horse, he had to take Henry’s help to take care of his mount. Merry grinned wickedly, the sight of which left Will far from being amused.

Before turning in for the night, Merry appeared with Henry by his side. They carried two bottles in their hands. Will looked up in askance.
“Got yer some medicine boy”
“Whats in these bottles”?
“ Two kinda medicines, one Henry here is gonna rub into ya shoulders n back, the other yer drink up” Merry and Henry chortled and winked at each other. Will submitted to their ministering, later wrapping a blanket around him, kicking off his boots, he drifted off to sleep.

The next day, Will found himself stiff but not sore. By midmorning after a hearty breakfast made by Henry, who seemed to be a man of many talents, both rode away towards the distant box canyon.
This time, Merry taught Will how to load the Navy Colt revolvers. Half cocking the hammer, Merry filled a chamber with powder, then rotating the chamber to face the lever below the barrel, he fed in the ball. Finally ramming it in, he locked the lever under the barrel. He then proceeded to load all the chambers, placing caps on the chamber nipples.

With his thumb he eared back the hammer to full cock. Extending his arm, he aimed at a pine cone twenty yards away. The colt barked and the cone disintegrated!
“Throw up some cones Kid, one by one, nice n easy like”
Will tossed cone after cone, the shots rang out, the cones disintegrated mid air!
“That’s some shooting, Merry.”
“Nah! Nothing to it, easy when they aint a shootin back at yer”
“Merry, will you teach me to shoot like that?”
“Sure boy, all dependin on yer, yer gotta put in a mite of effort though”.

Merry made Will, load his revolver and fire with his left hand into the empty box canyon, without any target in sight.
“Get used to it kid, jest like yestiddy, keep n yer eyes open, let er rip”.

Will gradually fired shot by shot deliberately, then loaded and fired again and again, till he was satisfied that he was not blinking. “Alright, now shoot at that pine over there”. The said pine being not more than fifteen yards away. Will fired and missed!, Taking a firmer grip he fired again and again, missing each time. He turned and looked around at Merry grimly, who grinned back, chewing on his tacky. Pushing his hat back, he showed Will how to keep his grip firm while keeping his arm rigid.

“Yer gotta think your arm to be like a wooden log, from yer shoulders, yer elbow, wrist n hand, you break anywhere atween, yer shot s gonna go wild.”
“Here lemme show ya” extended his rigid arm, Merry cocked an fired. Slivers of the pine flew as the shot hit the trunk.
“Yer see this ere notch, jest above the hammer here, line up the front bead with this ere notch, now grip it firm, make yer arm and wrist rock like and slowly squeeze the trigger.”

Will followed, his shot missed the trunk by not too much. Taking a better grip, he fired again, missed again.
“Hold it there kid, don’t ya go yankin on the trigger” that a ways, yer gonna drag that there barrel to the left or right.

Will kept on pegging away with short breaks, till it was time to go home. Nearing the end of the day, he was hitting the tree trunk more often than not. Merry told him to practice each day, to learn to shoot with his left hand before switching to his right, which would later prove to be much easier.

[jitu sati]

great going sir. reading a good western after a long long time. thx

[hvj1]

Thanks Jitu,Dev, heres your next installment

Chapter Thirteen

A month flew past since Will had entered town, the wagon train with Teale and his group had already moved on long ago. The day to day operations of the Wells Fargo office was more or less taken care of by Henry and Merry. Will pulled his weight by helping them, whenever the company freight wagons arrived from back East.
Each day, Will practiced diligently with his guns, though now Merry accompanied him only once or twice a week, leaving Will to practice on his own.

Big Jacob, Burney and Ike would frequent Mary’s Eating Place, but they generally kept to themselves, never attempting to get into any conversation with the town folk nor attract any attention to themselves.

Will casually drew Merry’s attention to the trio once, while they were eating out for a change.
Merry, did not comment immediately, “Big Jacobs been around ere since a good many years, folks around say he bought out the previous owner of the tradin post”.

“Him and his lot keep purty much keep to themselves, though once in a while, that there Ike does go on a drunken spree, pickin on newcomers. Mean feller, one time he cut up a wagon teamster, nother time he busted n stomped on a gambler, while playin cards at the saloon”.

“Last time he did that, Big Jacobs packed im outta town, seems to’ve come back. Been seen drinking up at the saloon, any day now, a body can expect more trouble."

“What about the one eyed fellow”

“Who? Burney?, Him, he keeps driftin in and out aimless like, though him n a fat one go runnin errands for Jacob to Fort Bridger, come back with loads of stuff in wagons to sell out ere.”

Merry paused in his eating, looking at Will, he commented “Out ere son, everyone sticks to his bizness, iffin yer know somethin aint right, s’long as it das’nt bother yer, yer stick to mindin yourn bizness.”

Will wondered at Merry’s words, it was a gentle warning, of that there was no doubt, Merry never missed anything much, off that he was quite sure. Later in the privacy of their lodging, Merry spoke, lying in his bed. “Now that there Big Jacob, n the crowd that runs with him, are upta no good, nobody got any proof like, but yer better n off stayin clear off that rum lot”.

Will leaned back in his bunk with his hands behind his head. A silent dark rage seemed to be growing within him. He wanted to smash Jacob and his lot, but he had to be patient. Patient like a wolf, stalking a herd of elk’s days on end, waiting for an opportunity to whittle down the herd one by one.

'The Bonny Chance’ was a saloon run by McGuire, a former soldier turned bartender. Merry and Will walked into the saloon on McGuire’s invitation. Stepping up to the bar, hitching their heels on the brass railing, Merry ordered his drink. Will, not too interested in drinking, toyed around with his, while observing those around and behind him, by looking into the fly specked mirror on the wall opposite. A few tables had card games going, the rest were taken by the ‘passin through’ crowd. McGuire and Merry were swapping stories.

The batwing doors opened, letting in Ike and two other rough looking hombres. Swilling his head from side to side, Ike made his way to the bar, ordering drinks for himself and his companions.
Downing his drink in one gulp, he ordered another one, while looking around wiping his lips with a hairy hand. Will studied him covertly in the mirror.

Hooking his left heel on the ring, Ike turned to look at Will closely. Merry not missing much and wanting to avoid unnecessary trouble, nudged Will. “Let’s go kid, I think m throat is irrigated enuff”.

“Aye, n take yourn puppy along”. Said Ike belligerently, his companions sniggered.
Will felt himself go cold inside, in his mind’s eye, he saw, how Ike had stabbed again and again into his father’s body, held defenseless with his hands held behind his back. Something dark and ugly was building inside him!

Merry ignored the remark, putting a few coins on the bar for the drinks, he prepared to move, thinking that Will would follow him.

Ike laughed, “Saw that? Pappy there payin fer the drinks.” “Hey Pappy, yer wipe is nose too?” Ike’s companions guffawed.

Play around the tables came to a halt, others looked on, some faintly smiling in the hope of some entertainment at the expense of the young man at the bar, who had not moved since the opening remark.

Merry realized that an ugly situation was fast developing, unless he managed to get Will and himself outside. But one side of him was curious to find out what the young man would do? So instead of walking out and ignoring Ike, he held back slightly, confident that he could handle all three, if it ever came to that.

What followed next, surprised Merry and those in the saloon, but most of all Ike and his companions, for they were least expecting it.

Will had put his right foot down. He suddenly swilled around, putting his entire body weight behind the roundhouse left, which smashed hard into Ike’s face!
The power of the blow, snapped Ike’s head back. Under the force of the sudden blow, Ike lost his balance, crashing into his companions, who caught completely off guard, dropped their drinks and fell in a tangled heap onto the floor.

Merry groaned deeply. He moved himself from behind Will taking up a position to cover the three, just in case.
The 'three', trying to get up all at once, got entangled with each other once again, dragging themselves to the floor in a comic heap. The crowd laughed at the sight.

Blood flowing from his smashed lips, Ike pushed away his mates, regaining balance, only to receive a full blooded upper cut to the jaw, which started from somewhere below Will’s waist to end up with a solid 'Thwack' on Ike’s jaw!

Ike collapsed like a pole axed steer. His shocked companions, stared at their fallen comrade, struck dumb with the sudden turnaround of events, which they thought they were pretty much in control of.
They looked to up to receive another shock! Staring into the black eye of a revolver, pointed unwaveringly in their direction.

“You boys wanted a party, well you got it”. Indicating to one of them Will spoke chillingly, “You, go and get some water”, to which the worthy reluctantly moved to the end of the bar, pouring some in a small pail, he came back to his fallen comrade.
“You, remove his gun”, he ordered the other one. The fellow got down to one knee to check around Ike’s belt, removing a derringer, further exploration yielded a bone handled bowie.
“Leave the knife, throw the derringer across the floor and step aside” ordered Will. “You, he indicated the man with the pail of water, wake him up”. The fellow knelt down and did as he was told.

Bit by bit, Ike came to, shaking his head, he stared up at the roof, turning his head he focused his eyes on Will, rolling over on his side, he slowly swayed to his feet.
“Merry, please cover these gents” so saying Will tossed his revolver to him. Merry deftly caught it, stuffing it in his belt, while pulling out his own piece, a massive colt dragoon revolver.

Ike in the meantime stood with one hand on the edge of the bar to steady himself. He looked dully at Will. Will indicated the knife stuck in Ike’s belt. Smiling he spoke “ You’ve got yourself a knife Ike, figured a man like you needs help now and then, if you think you are handy with that, come and get me if you can". "Look, I've got no weapons, just my bare hands”, so saying he spread both his arms wide with palms open.

“Dunno what yer doing kid, muttered a worried Merry. What will I say to Coleman, iffin anything happens to yer”, spoke Merry with his eyes on Ike.
“Don’t worry amigo, I know what I am doin”.
Ike in the meantime had turned to the bar, “Gimme a drink”, McGuire poured him a stiff one, as he reached for it with his left hand, he froze at the sound of the hammer being cocked.
“Now what?” he looked around at Merry.
“Don’t try it “,
“Try what?” Asked Ike.
“To throw the knife, when you scoop up the drink, I’ve seen it afore, I’ll blow a hole big enuff to let daylight in”. Ike stared at Merry,
“You, I’ll see later”,
“I am here n I’ll still be around when they pat yer face down with a shovel” replied Merry grimly.

Ike tossed the drink down, spat and looked around with a hideous smile at Will. With a couple of teeth missing from the front, leaving bloodied gaps, his lips swollen and still bleeding, he presented a grotesque sight.

Staring at his knife, he chuckled manically, "Yer jest signed yer death warrant”, holding his knife at waist level, he came slowly weaving his knife towards Will.

Will knew immediately that he was in trouble because Ike held the knife like a seasoned fighter. With the knife not held as a dagger. to stab upwards or downwards, but with thumb placed on the handle, with blade parallel to the floor and tip pointed in the direction of the opponent.

Will was cautious but not overly worried, having fought many a fight with Indian bucks unarmed. They had’nt named him the ‘Wolf’ for nothing.

Stepping back lightly in the semicircle made by the onlookers, he moved lightly on his toes to his left or sometimes to the right, to detect any crimp in Ike’s body movement.
Ike came in, slashing in short arcs.Will moved smoothly, with arms out to balance himself, he moved away from the initial ‘cutting’ movements.
Suddenly Ike dropped his knife hand, his free left hand shot out like a striking snake, Will slapped it to the side, anticipatiing the thrust. It came fast! Will slammed his right hand to grip Ikes upwards thrust, pirouetting swiftly on his feet, he moved inside the thrust, jutting out his right leg, he forced Ike to stumble over his stretched right leg. As Ike lost balance he managed to encircle Will’s neck with his free left hand! They both crashed to the floor, with Will on top, still retaining his vice like grip onto Ike’s knife hand.

The jar loosened Ike’s hold on Will’s neck, who quickly rolled over and onto his feet, before Ike could recover. Ike was still on all fours when Will charged, lifting his right foot, he kicked viciously with all his strength downwards, Ike desperately tried to avoid the kick.

The boot heel smashed into Ike’s face, flattening his nose. The force of the blow, knocked Ike backwards, showering some of the onlookers with blood and bits of bone.

Will, stood waiting, breathing deeply while keeping a wary eye on Ike. Ike by now was dripping blood all over the floor, getting onto both knees slowly, he tugged his handkerchief free from his neck. Holding it to his face, he tried to dab at the flow of blood. Tossing away the cloth after a few futile attempts, he stared hideously at his tormentor, who had now slowly made his way to the bar and was leaning with his back to it, with a taunting smile.

Taking hold of the knife, Ike stood up slowly, like a wounded animal, realizing that he was about to be killed himself if he did not kill his opponent first. A murmur of ghoulish anticipation rippled through the crowd, which had now swelled three times its number, as news spread about the fight.

Swaying on his feet, his eyes filled with feral hatred, Ike moved cautiously towards Will, who pushed himself a few feet away from the bar. His eyes like pieces of blue flint, Will waited, crouching slightly, with hands away from his side, preparing to receive the next onslaught.

Like a wolf waiting for a wounded bear, eyeing for an opening to launch his own counter attack on a wounded yet dangerous foe. One mistake and he could end up being gutted, his own blood and entrails would fall to the floor.

Ike threw caution to the wind and with a whimpering scream, he hurtled himself at Will, thrusting with his knife wickedly towards his abdomen. Will feinted to his right, thinking that Will would repeat the previous maneuver, of pirouetting into his body. Ike angled his knife inwards to his left.

Will having feinted to the left, quickly changed direction, stepping cat like to Ike’s right, slapping the knife hand aside and away from his own body. Unable to correct his mistake in time, Ike missed Will, who like lightening grasped Ike’s elbow with his left hand, with his right he caught the wrist. Twisting up the elbow, he pulled the wrist downwards and around.

Unable to stop his forward charge, Ike’s arm twisted back as he hurtled forward. Like a heavy branch tearing free from a tree, Ike's shoulder dislocated, his elbow bent backwards snapped! Screaming in agony, he crashed onto the floor, his head hitting the brass railing. Slobbering and mewling piteously, he tried to get up, unable to bear the pain he slumped backwards against the bar, unconscious. Knife arm still horribly twisted behind his body!

For a long time nobody spoke, somebody retched,the shock of the fight rooted all to their spots! Merry, recovered his voice, pointing his gun at the two hardcases he spoke grimly, " Pick im up and take him". Monitoring their movements, as the room slowly buzzed with conversation. Ike was dragged out, still mercifully unconscious out of the saloon.

Merry handed Will his gun, "Lets get outta ere kid". Together they walked out, the crowd parted in awe.

[jitu sati]

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