The Killing Season (59 page)

“I don't want to think about it. Let's just stay here.”

“We can't,” said Nathan. “We have to eat, and Empty needs to go outside.”

“So do I,” she said, “but I'm not baring my behind in this kind of cold.”

“There's the chamber pot,” said Nathan. “That's the best you're likely to get, unless you aim to fight your way to the outhouse.”

“I'll take the pot,” she said, “and blizzard or not, I'm hungry. Besides, your poor dog is miserable. He wants out.”

“Won't do him much good,” said Nathan. “I look for the snow to be so deep, he can't hoist a leg.”

The snow was deep, and it would be drifted much deeper at higher elevations. In the mountainous Dakota Territory, a horse wouldn't stand a chance. A path had been shoveled from the hotel to the outhouse and from the hotel to the cafe across the street. The wind swept in from the west, bringing with it more snow. The stove in the cafe roared, while a fire crackled in the fireplace. There was an enormous coffeepot, and one of the cooks made the rounds, refilling tin cups. One of the cooks who had fed Empty paused to speak to Nathan.

“Maybe I'm out of line, but there's some things you should know. The kid that forced the fight yesterday was Dobie Sutton. He's got two brothers, Dal and Dent, and there's their Ma, Subrina. They're the kind, if you cut one, they all bleed. They're hell on wheels, the lot of ‘em. That's why Sheriff Babcock wanted you out of town. The rest of 'em will likely be after you.”

“I'm obliged,” said Nathan.

“God,” Vivian said, “you only defended yourself. Can't the sheriff protect you from the others?”

“No,” said Nathan, “and I don't expect him to. The law offers no protection, because these family clans are devilishly persistent, and they're all alike. Hurt one, and you have to fight the rest of them. You never know where the next bullet is coming from.”

“If it wasn't for this damn blizzard, we could just ride on.”

“Hell, it does me no good to ride on,” Nathan said. “If there's settling to be done, I'd as soon settle it here. We'll wait out this storm right here in the hotel, and if this Sutton bunch wants my hide, they're welcome to try and take it. But I don't want you near me, out in the open. You'll cross to the cafe first, and I'll follow. When we're done, you'll go on across to the hotel, and I'll follow.”

“I don't like it,” she said. “Get me a gun and I'll stay with you.”

“No,” said Nathan. “I'm obliged to you for feeling that way, but I won't have them shoot you, trying to get to me.”

When they were ready to leave the cafe, Nathan sent Vivian out first. She crossed to the hotel, and with Empty at his heels, Nathan followed. Visibility was poor, with the wind-whipped snow, and nothing happened. Nathan and Vivian took to the bed for warmth. They would take only breakfast and supper as long as they remained in North Platte. In the late afternoon there came a knock on their door. Nathan cocked one of his Colts and then issued a challenge.

“Who's there?”

“Otis Babcock. I want to talk to you.”

“I can't see that we have anything to talk about,” Nathan said. “I'm going nowhere until this storm blows itself out.”

“I don't expect you to,” said Babcock, “and that's not what I want to talk about. I'll wait in the lobby, so as not to disturb your missus.”

“Damn it,” Nathan said. “I'll have to go talk to him.”

He got up, and with chattering teeth, got into his clothes. He stomped into his boots, strapped on his guns, and shrugged into his coat. Closing the door behind him, he made his way to the hotel lobby. A red-hot stove roared, and there Babcock waited. Nathan took a chair with his back to the wall, waiting for Babcock to speak. He did.

“I reckon you think I'm just an ornery old mossyhorn that likes to make it hard on folks, but that ain't the case. I got to live here, and it's a mite easier when there's nobody shootin' or bein' shot. In case you ain't found out, the Sutton kid you salted down is the youngest of three brothers. Dal and Dent is as bad or worse than Dobie was, while their Ma, old Subrina, is a ring-tailed wampus kitty. She carries a double barrel, sawed-off scattergun that'd drop a moose.”

“I've heard most of that,” said Nathan. “What are you leading up to?”

“For your own protection, until this storm blows over and you can leave town, I want to lock you up.”

“I appreciate your concern, Sheriff, but I can protect myself. Put me behind bars, and I'd be fair game. Let me remind you that when I gunned down Dobie Sutton, he was about to shoot me. If you're so concerned with keeping the peace, I have a suggestion. Just lock up the Suttons until I'm gone.”

“That's impossible,” said Babcock.

“Then allow me to suggest something,” Nathan said. “You go to the Suttons. Tell them I'm not going to be pushed around. If they come after me—one at a time or all at once—I'll defend myself. And I'll make you this promise, Sheriff. I'll not harm a one of them, unless I'm forced to. If they come shooting, I'll shoot back, and I don't miss.”

Sheriff Babcock sighed. “That's your last word?”

“It is,” said Nathan. “You keep that bunch away from me, and there'll be no trouble.”

He turned away, and when he returned to his room, the door was standing open and Vivian was gone. He reached the lobby just as Babcock was about to leave.

“Damn you,” Nathan shouted, seizing the sheriff by the shirtfront. “Vivian's gone. You lured me away so they could take her.”

“I don't know what you're talkin' about,” Babcock said. “If they took her, it wasn't my doing. Come on, I'll help you find her. With all this snow, there'll be tracks.”

The sky was still overcast and gray, and the storm wasn't over, but the snow had dwindled to a few flurries. There were two sets of footprints leading from the back door of the hotel. Deep as the snow was, the abductors had brought horses, and their tracks were easily followed. Few had ventured out into the snow, and it soon became obvious the trail was leading away from town.

“By God,” said Babcock, “there ain't nothin' up this way but the railroad depot.”

“I reckon it has a stove,” Nathan said. “All they need is a place to hole up just long enough to force me out into the open. Then they'll offer to swap Vivian for me.”

“You don't have to agree to that,” said Babcock. “If they harm the woman, they'll be breaking the law.”

“Sheriff, before this day's done, you're goin' to learn that some folks have no respect for the law. Get in the way, and this bunch will shoot you as quick as they'll shoot me.”

Almost immediately a Winchester cut loose and a slug sang over their heads. From the depot came a taunting voice.

“You're in bad company, Sheriff. This ain't your fight. Get on back to town.”

“You Suttons pay attention,” Sheriff Babcock shouted. “You have a woman in there who's done nothing to you. Let her go, or I'm placing you all under arrest.”

“Not by a jugful,” the voice shouted. “We want the bastard that gunned down Dobie, and when we get him, we turn his woman loose.”

“Dobie was gunned down in a fair fight, a fight that he started,” Sheriff Babcock shouted, “and I'll have no more shooting as a result of that. You're breaking the law.”

“You got just five minutes to start that gun-thrower walkin' this way,” the voice shouted in response. “You don't, then we'll strip this little gal an' do some interesting things with her.”

“Subrina Sutton,” Sheriff Babcock shouted, “are you in there?”

“I'm here,” she replied.

“You and your sons are breaking the law,” Babcock shouted. “This is your last chance to back off and come out of it clean.”

“You heard our terms,” Subrina shouted back. “You send us that killer, and we'll turn the woman loose.”

“I'll come,” Nathan shouted, “but only if Dal and Dent have the sand to face me. Dobie was a shorthorn, full of brag, but not a grain of sand in his craw. I'm guessing it runs in the family, that his two big brothers are all mouth. Am I right?”

“Hell, no,” a voice bawled. “Start walkin'. We're comin'.”

“My God,” said Babcock, “you're not going to face them both?”

“I am,” Nathan said. “There's no other way.”

“Them's long odds,” Babcock said. “Better if I side you.”

“No,” said Nathan, “I promised to face them alone. while their attention is on me, try to circle around and disarm the Sutton woman.”

The Suttons had begun their walk, one on either side of the railroad.

“The one to your right is Dal,” Sheriff Babcock said, “an' the other is Dent. Both of 'em is sidewinder mean.”

Sheriff Babcock moved well away from the railroad, apparently to take refuge behind a crisscrossed stack of railroad ties. Nathan began his walk, knowing that when the moment came, he must somehow improve the odds. As Nathan had learned, the walk itself could be a gunman's undoing, for his mind—as well as his drawn gun—would be focused on his adversary as an upright target. Should that target suddenly change position, the other man's brain must register that change, redirecting the drawn gun. Not surprisingly, both the Suttons drew together, but at that precise second, Nathan Stone seemed to stumble. He went belly-down in the snow, Colt in his hand, and the Sutton fire cut the empty air above him. Nathan fired twice and both the Suttons were driven backward. They crumpled to the snow and lay there unmoving.

“Damn you,” Subrina Sutton screamed, “you've killed my boys.”

Then came the ominous bellow of a shotgun, followed by silence. Nathan was on his feet and running toward the depot. Up the track aways, he could see Sheriff Babcock headed in the same direction. That meant Vivian Stafford had been at the mercy of Subrina Sutton and a loaded shotgun. But suddenly the door opened and Vivian stepped out. She wore the paisley dress, and the entire front of it was soaked with blood. Her eyes were on Nathan for a terrified moment, and then she collapsed facedown in the snow.

“My God,” Sheriff Babcock groaned, “the old woman shot her.”

But Nathan rolled Vivian over and found her looking at him. Her lips moved, but it was a moment before she could speak.

“I killed her. Dear God, I didn't mean to, but ...”

“You done what you had to, ma'am,” said Sheriff Babcock. “I'd best go in there and see what they done to the railroad agent.”

“I'm taking Vivian back to the hotel,” Nathan said. “Can you walk?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

“Yes,” she said. “They didn't hurt me. God, I want to get this dress off. Her blood's all over me.”

“It scared the hell out of me,” said Nathan, as they made their way back toward the hotel. “When I heard that shotgun blast, I just knew she'd killed you.”

“She was going to,” Vivian said, “but I fought her for the shotgun. She wouldn't let go, and the muzzle of it was at her throat, when ...”

“Great God,” said Nathan. “I'd like for us to ride out of here today, but there'll be more snow tonight.”

“I'm beginning to see it your way,” she said. “If the Suttons wanted you badly enough to kill me, they'd have followed us. The storm kept us here, and as terrible as all this has been, I feel like we've settled it.”

“I wish I could agree with you,” said Nathan, “but there may be more in this town as foolish and glory-hungry as Dobie Sutton was. I reckon I can count on that damn newspaper man to spread word of it far and wide. I can see the headlines now:
Nathan Stone, killer, guns down Nebraska family
.”

“You didn't kill them all,” Vivian said. “I killed one of them.”

“It won't matter,” said Nathan. “I'll be blamed for it all.”

Nathan was quickly proven correct. With the storm continuing, they went nowhere except the cafe, and there they were ignored. Their orders were taken and their food was served in silence. Even Empty encountered hostility, and Nathan bought food for the dog. The storm finally blew itself out, but they were unable to travel for another two days. On February 12 they rode out, crossing the North Platte River.

“After what we went through in that town,” said Vivian, “I'd as soon just avoid all the others. There's worse things than sleeping on the ground.”

“I agree,” Nathan said. “Besides, there may not be any other towns, until we get to Deadwood. I figure we'll be there in another four days, if there are no more blizzards.”

The new camp—Deadwood Gulch—was a dead-end canyon. Located within it were three camps: Crook City, Elizabeth City, and Deadwood. The most prominent of the three camps was Deadwood, and it was at the head of the canyon, where the road ended.
²⁵

“God,” said Vivian, “I've never seen anything like it.”

There was a main street that snaked in and out among the tree stumps and open holes left by the early arrivals. Along the street wandered a drunken string of hastily constructed frame buildings, thrown up mostly with rough, still-green boards. The only refinement appeared to be the boardwalks. What passed for the main street was ankle-deep in dust, but that would change when the rains came. There would be ankle-deep mud. Nathan and Vivian avoided the street because it was crowded with shoving, shouting men, horses, mules, oxen, wagons, buckboards, and two-wheeled carts. Somewhere a gun thundered, and there was a second shot that sounded like an echo of the first. Among the array of buildings, two had poorly painted signs proclaiming them HOTELS.