No Less Than the Journey (21 page)

CHAPTER 2

Lauraville was larger than Wes had expected it to be. The reason for its size was that when the railroad was being built Lauraville was founded as a stores depot for goods and material brought from the East for building the railroad and supplying those employed on laying the track.

But Lauraville’s heyday was in the past. Many houses were tumbling down and others deserted now, although a surprising number were still occupied. Towards the centre of the sprawling town, narrow streets and narrower alleyways spread out on either side of the main street in which were located an over-abundance of well-patronised saloons.

As Wes would learn, the reason for there being so many men in town was because it was generally believed a branch-line was being planned from here to link the Kansas Pacific Railroad with another to the north of the State. As a result a great many prospective labourers had flocked to the town hoping to find employment when work began on the new railroad.

Taking over many of the empty and apparently ownerless houses, they spent their time drinking, quarrelling, fighting
and stealing anything that might be sold for the price of a drink.

Wes quickly learned that Kansas Pacific trains no longer called at Lauraville. Instead, they now stopped at the town of Trego, farther to the West, where there was a tank for refilling their boilers. He was also informed he had missed a Denver-bound train by only hours – and the next one would not be coming through for another three days.

Rather than ride on to Trego, Wes decided he would spend that night, at least, in Lauraville.

He was riding along one of the alleyways off the main street, following signs to a livery stable, when he heard the sound of men’s raucous laughter coming from an alleyway intersecting the one along which he was riding. It was interspersed with the voice of a young woman pleading to be left alone and allowed to go home.

Commonsense told him that whatever was going on did not concern him and that he should go on his way and ignore the pleas, but the girl sounded terrified. When her cries continued unabated he suddenly made up his mind and turned into the alleyway from which the sounds were coming.

Almost immediately he came upon an open space surrounded by broken posts and planks, indicating that this had once been a small corral belonging to a now derelict barn.

There was also a well-worn path running across it, evidence that it was now used as a short-cut between alleyways.

Within this space a young girl of no more than fourteen or fifteen was trying to escape the attentions of two horsemen, one of whom had used a lariat to lasso her, tightening the rope whenever she tried to escape the attentions of the second man who was leaning from his horse and attempting to grab her whenever she came within reach. It appeared to Wes they were trying to get her inside the nearby derelict barn which
lacked a door.

At first glance Wes had thought the girl was black, but as he drew closer her features reminded him of some of the Indian women he had seen at Fort Hays. He thought her parents were probably from both these races.

As he reached the scene the girl collided with one of the men’s horses and fell to her knees. As she struggled to her feet, the man reached down and took a grip of her hair, causing the girl to scream.

Both the horsemen wore revolvers in open holsters attached to belts which had cartridges nestling in loops for most of their length. Wes realized that these were not ordinary cowboys, but probably experienced gunmen. Nevertheless, drawing his rifle from the scabbard hanging beside his saddle, he said, ‘I don’t think she likes that, friend. Let her go.’

The two men looked at Wes and although he was carrying a rifle across the pommel of his saddle, they saw he was not wearing a gun belt and both decided he posed no particular threat.

Without releasing his hold, the man gripping the young girl’s hair said, ‘This is not your game, mister. Back off and mind your own business.’

As the man was talking, Wes had swung his gun until it pointed in the speaker’s direction and suddenly it fired, the bullet passing so close to the horseman’s head that he instinctively jerked it back, at the same time releasing his grip on both the girl and his lariat.

Due to the practise Wes had put in during recent weeks, his horse had become used to the sound of a gun being fired at close range, but the horses of the other two men were startled. As their riders worked to bring them under control, the young girl wriggled loose of the noose pinning her arms to her sides and, pushing past Wes, ran away along the alleyway.

The man who had roped her was the first to bring his horse under control and angrily reached for his revolver.

Wes fired a second shot from his rifle, but this time he had it to his shoulder and the man’s hat flew from his head, to be trampled on by his still skittish horse.

‘That’s the second bullet I’ve wasted on warning you,’ Wes said, more easily than he felt, ‘I’ll not waste another.’

His rifle moved momentarily to cover the second man and he called out, ‘Keep your horse close to your friend’s – and your hand well clear of your gun.’

The gunman instantly put his hands out to the side of his body.

Still watching him, Wes returned his attentions to the man who had lost his hat. ‘Undo your belt and drop it to the ground … with the gun still in the holster.’

When the man hesitated, Wes peered down the sights of his rifle meaningfully and the man obeyed his instruction immediately.

‘Now draw your rifle out – nice and slowly – and drop that too.’

When the man began to protest, Wes snapped, ‘Just do it – and quick, I’m beginning to get an urge to pull this trigger and put an end to this.’

The rifle followed the revolver and belt to the ground.

It was then the turn of the second gunman and while he followed the same routine, his companion said to Wes, ‘You’re going to regret this, Mister. Robbing a man of his guns is as bad as stealing his horse – and they hang men for that.’

‘I’m not stealing ’em,’ Wes replied, greatly relieved that the incident had not resulted in serious gunplay, ‘You’ll be able to collect them from the sheriff’s office. I’ll leave ’em there as soon as I’ve found where it is. Now, as we have nothing more to talk about I suggest you take yourselves out to the main
street. I’ll watch until you get there, to make sure you don’t bother any more young girls along the way.’

The two men rode away scowling but saying nothing to each other. As they reached the main street one of them looked back and even with the distance between them Wes could see his venomous expression and realized he had made a serious enemy.

Gathering up the men’s weapons, he led his horse in the direction indicated by the livery stable signs.

He had not gone far when the girl who had been molested by the two gunmen turned into the alleyway ahead of him. She was accompanied by a black man who wore a silver sheriff’s star pinned to the breast pocket of his shirt.

Excitedly, the girl said something to her companion who immediately increased his pace, drawing ahead of the girl.

As he neared Wes, he pulled out a revolver and called, ‘Hold it right there … and drop those guns to the ground.’

Startled, Wes dropped the guns he was holding. Just then the girl caught up with the sheriff and said, ‘This isn’t one of the men I was telling you about, Pa! He’s the one who came along and made them let me go.’

The sheriff looked uncertain for a moment, then, holstering his revolver, he said, ‘I’m sorry, stranger, but I was so het-up by what my little girl told me you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you. Instead, I’d like to shake your hand.’

Putting his words into actions, he introduced himself as Sheriff Eli Wolfe and, pumping Wes’s hand added, ‘I reckon I owe you.’

Mildly embarrassed, Wes said, ‘I’m glad I came along when I did. They were giving her a bad time.’

‘They’re lucky it was you and not me who happened upon ’em. I’d likely have shot first and asked what they thought they were up to afterwards. Would you happen to know who they were?’

Wes shook his head, ‘I’d never seen them before, but then, I’m not from around here. Anyway I took their guns and told them they could get them back from your office if they felt so inclined, so you might well meet up with them later.’

Peering at the revolvers in their open holsters, the sheriff said, ‘These belong to gunslingers, not your everyday cowboy, yet you took their guns away from them. Who are you, stranger, should I know you?’

Wes shook his head, ‘The name’s Wes Curnow and I’m just a miner from England who came to America looking for work and fell in first with a Marshal Berryman and then with an old man who liked to be known as a mountain-man. Between them they had me practising handling guns. I guess it paid off today.’

While Wes was talking the Sheriff’s expression became one of incredulity and, dismissing talk of the two gunmen for the moment, he said, ‘You know Marshal Berryman…? Brigadier General Aaron Berryman?’

Wondering yet again whether there was anyone in America who did not know Aaron, Wes replied, ‘That’s him. We travelled together by ship from New York to New Orleans, then up the Mississippi to St Louis. You’ve heard of him?’

‘I’ve done more than that! I served with him during the war. I was a sergeant in the First United States Coloured Cavalry. After we’d had some hard fighting at Swift Creek, he stopped to say, “Well done, Sergeant”, to me. That was just about the proudest moment of my service …’

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Eli said, ‘We’ll find time to talk about Brigadier Berryman later. For now I’d like to find the men who scared the living daylights out of my Tessa. She thought they were going to do some harm to her.’

‘I thought so too, Sheriff, and they didn’t take kindly to my taking their guns away. But if they come to your office to
collect ’em you’ll be able to learn more about who they are.’

The Sheriff shook his head, ‘If they really are gunmen the first thing they’ll do is get hold of new weapons, they’ll feel naked without ’em. I don’t suppose you happened to get their names?’

‘No, but I’d say they were probably brothers, they certainly looked alike.’

‘I heard their first names,’ Tessa said, unexpectedly. ‘One was called Ike and the other Clint.’

Her father looked alarmed, ‘It sounds like two of the Denton brothers – and they’re all wanted men. The Sheriff at Salina sent word down the line that they were heading this way with a couple more men they’ve been running with. They’re trouble …
big
trouble.’

To his daughter, he added, ‘You’re mighty lucky this gentleman came along when he did, girl. The Dentons rode with Quantrill who showed no mercy to anyone, man, woman or child. From all I’ve heard they’re no better now than they were then.’

Speaking to Wes once more, he said, ‘I’ll put word about that they’re around, but most lawmen in these parts would rather not meet up with them. You were lucky too, Wes, but you’ll need to be on your guard. The Denton’s don’t forgive easily and they’d as soon shoot a man in the back from some dark alley, as any other way…. Where are you staying in Lauraville?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ Wes confessed. ‘I’ve only just got into town. I was on my way to put my horse up at the livery stable and look for a cheap hotel when I ran across Tessa being tormented.’

‘I thank The Lord you did, but you don’t want to be wandering about town after upsetting the Dentons …’ He hesitated for only a few moments before adding, ‘We’ve got a
spare room at my place, why don’t you put up there. I reckon the Wolfe family owe that to you.’

When Wes hesitated uncertainly, the Sheriff’s daughter pleaded, ‘Please say “yes”. If you don’t I’ll not sleep for worrying that those men will be looking for you because of what you did for me.’

Wes realized she was probably right and he was not anxious to have his untried skill with a handgun put to the test against two such experienced gunmen.

‘Thank you, Sheriff, that’s very kind of you.’

Tessa, obviously delighted, said, ‘I’ll run on home and tell ma you’re coming and help her get the room ready.’

She ran off ahead of them and Wes said, ‘She seems to have got over the shock of her ordeal at the hands of the Dentons.’

‘That’s thanks to you too,’ Eli said, ‘She’s excited at the thought of having you in the house … We don’t get many visitors.’

‘I can understand that,’ Wes said, ‘There can’t be many places more remote than Lauraville.’

Eli fell silent, as though weighing up something in his mind. Arriving at a decision, he said, ‘It’s not just because Lauraville is a frontier town, or even that a great many of those passing through fought for the South during the war and resent the town having a black Sheriff. I also happen to have a Cheyenne Indian wife. Even many of those who fought for the North can’t stomach that. As a result life’s hard for Tessa and she has few friends.’

Wes knew little about the distinctions between the various Indian tribes, but he had been in the country long enough to know the strength of feeling against Indians in general.