OT -- D-a-m-n You perry owens, Part 2 fiction

[Doc Hudson]

D-a-m-n You Perry Owens
Part 2: A Hard Ride to St. Johns



George and I left the hotel at 3:30 to get our horses. We found them saddled and ready, tied in front of the Marshall’s office along with Jim Ferris’s horse. George looked at me with a grin.

“Either Bill Layton is in a hurry to get rid of us or he is a mighty obliging feller,” George said.

“Bill Layton feels bad about being the bearer of bad news. He’s trying to make up for it. Doing a darned fine job of it too,” I said with a chuckle.

We could smell the coffee and hear the sizzle of bacon even before we opened the Marshall’s Office door to find Jim Ferris at the stove cooking breakfast. Bill Layton was pulling a fancy tooled gunbelt holding two nickel plated Colts from his file cabinet, an 1873 Winchester already lay on his desk.

“Morning Bill. You planning to come with us?” I asked. “George and I appreciate you getting our horses ready. Think it will be safe to eat our prisoner’s cooking?”

“Morning Evan, George. I guess it will be safe to eat, but we will let Jim take the first few bites and watch him for a few minutes just to be sure.” We all laughed companionably.

We eat our breakfast quickly and were ready to get in the saddle by 4:00 a.m. I pulled a set of leg irons and handcuffs out of my saddlebag and tossed them on the Marshall’s desk. Ferris’s expression sobered.

“OK Jim, we might as well get this out of the way right now. Do I need to put these on, or will you give your word that you won’t try to run off. Before you answer, let me make it clear, if you give me your word and then try to run, I’ll shoot you down like a rabid coyote. Now what is you answer?”

“No need for the irons Deputy. You have my word that I won’t run. I’d rather hang than break my word,” Ferris said earnestly.

I held out my hand and said, “That is good enough for me. If you change your mind about escaping, let me know.”

Ferris shook my hand with a big grin on his face. “Thanks Evan, you won’t regret it.”

“I guess we’d better start making tracks then. Thanks for the hospitality Bill, I hope I can repay it someday.” We shook hands with Bill Layton and rode of at a good trot.

We traveled hard and made good time on the trail. The first day, we made more than sixty miles. We swapped horses every couple of hours and they held up quite well. Ferris proved to be a good traveling companion and the supper he threw together got him elected camp cook for the trip.

For safety, we rode on for another hour after supper and made a cold camp. Next morning we were again in the saddle before daylight, and pushed hard. Again we made better than sixty miles before we stopped for the day. We made our second camp at the mouth of Canyon Creek, where it flows into the Salt. Since the horses were tired and we were too, we decided not to move on after supper. Another reason we didn’t push on in the darkness was that we were fairly sure we were being watched.

Several times during the day, we had spotted the glint of sun reflected from the lens of a spyglass, or a rock falling where no one was visible. Our campsite was in a fairly defensible location. We had pitched our camp under a cut bank about three feet high, with clear fields of fire in front of us, with creeks protecting two flanks. We doubted that a better place could be found.

“Who do you reckon is following us Evan,” George asked as we ate our supper.

“Probably some of the Grants or Grahams come to kill me,” Said Jim. “What kind of plan do you have Evan?”

“No plan except to be watchful. I figure you are right about the folks trailing us. I don’t intend to slip around in the dark and try to hunt them, so the play is theirs. About all we can do is to watch and react. Jim, are you any good with those guns of yours, or was it an accident you shot that crooked dealer?”

“I ain’t no Walter Winnans, but I can generally hit what I shoot at. Are you goin’ to let me have my guns?”

“Hell Jim, me and George ain’t sittin’ up all night guarding your butt. You can take a turn too. And there ain’t any sense having a guard that’s unarmed. Just remember who is wanting to take you in alive.”

“Thanks Evan. I’ve felt plumb naked with out a gun on my hip. I’ve been carrying a gun since I went out on my own at fifteen. You won’t regret trusting me.”

“If I thought I’d regret it, I wouldn’t give you your guns. Now let’s finish eating and put this fire out. George, you and Jim get some sleep, I’ll take first watch and wake you around ten o’clock. Jim, you get last watch, from two o’clock to sunup. We wait for the sun tomorrow. Matter of fact, until we settle with whoever’s following us, we ride in daylight, and make camp before dark at a defensible site.”

The night passed without any disturbance. We ate a quick breakfast and hit the trail just as the sun peeped over the mountains. All of us had the uneasy feeling of being watched.

We had decided to continue following Salt Creek as far as Cedar Creek Canyon before we turned Northeast to climb the Mogollon Rim. We took our time and paused often to look for our company. We started to think we had just been jumpy the day before, since we saw no further signs of pursuit. That afternoon, we pitched camp at the mouth of Cedar Creek.

Holding to our plan, we found a defensible campsite with good fields of fire all around. We ate a meal of hard tack and jerky washed down with coffee before full dark and let the fire die. We were talking about whether or not to continue with our daylight only travel when a rider hailed the camp.

“Hello the camp! I’m peaceful, can I come in?” The rider called.

The rider was a big man in rough travelstained clothes. His horse was a big buckskin gelding with the look of speed about him, but not flashy. The saddle was a simple working stockman’s saddle that looked to have been well used though well cared for. The same could be said of the rider’s other gear. “This is no saddle tramp,” I thought. “I wonder what he’s up to.”

With rifle in hand I shouted back, “Come on in but keep your hands in plain sight mister.”

The horseman calmly rode into the campsite and halted in front of me, with both hands resting on his saddle horn. “Howdy folks, mind if I light and join you for the evening? Kinda tired of no company but old Buck here.” He grinned and patted his horse’s neck fondly. But I noticed that the grin didn’t reach the man’s eyes. They remained hard and alert.

“Sorry to be so unsociable mister, but I’ll have to ask you to ride on. I’m an Apache County Deputy transporting a prisoner so I don’t think it would be a good idea to take in a stranger. No offense intended. Besides, we’ve already eat and the coffee pot’s dry.” I responded.

The horseman looked around and gave each of us a good looking over. He spat a stream of tobacco juice on the side of his horse away from me before he spoke.

“I see two of you wearing badges but all of you are armed. Seems mighty odd way to be transporting a prisoner to me.”

“Don’t worry about me Mister,” I bristled. “I’ve been transporting prisoners off and on ever since the end of the War. I know what I’m doin’. Now I’ll thank ya’ most kindly if you just head on down the creek.”

With a nod of his head and a tip of his hat, the horseman turned and rode into the gathering darkness.

“Jim, douse that fire! Right now!” I snapped. “ George, you’d better get some sleep while you can. None of us are going to get much tonight. Especially you kid.”

“What is hell are you talking about Evan?” Ferris asked. “Why am I not going to get much sleep?”

“Because we are going to pull double watches tonight. You and me til about ten or eleven o’clock, then you and George until two o’clock when I get up and let you sleep a little before daylight.”


“Why me Evan?” Ferris asked.

“Because you are the youngest you get the short end of the stick. Besides, George and I could both get a good night’s sleep just by letting the Grahams have you. So don’t complain about a little lost sleep.” I barked. “And get that darned fire covered up before we start drawing gunfire!”

The night passed with no further excitement. However daylight found us all grumpy and jumpy.

I felt that today would bring some serious trouble. To prepare for it, I removed a small rectangle of leather that had two holes in it big enough to loop over my saddle horn. I wrapped the leather around my Greener and hung it across my saddlebows before I mounted.

“What is that thing Evan?” asked Ferris in a confused tone.

“They call this leather loop a California Loop Saddle scabbard. It is a dandy way to be able to get a rifle into action quick without having to tote it in your hands.” I answered.

“But why the scattergun?”

“Because it is easy to miss a target with a rifle or pistol when firing from horseback. This old Greener sort of tilts the odds of a hit in my favor.” I replied. “Come on boys, we have some ground to cover.”


The trail up Cedar Creek was rough going. The ground was broken by numerous dry washes where the ages of flash floods had cut into the rocky soil. We made our way slowly and carefully, constantly watching for possible ambushes. At mid-day, we paused at a small nameless stream that flowed into Cedar Creek. We ate a hurried meal of hardtack and jerky washed down with water while the horses drank and rested. We were all getting jumpy and impatient to get things over with.

We rested the horses for about an hour before we resumed our journey. We’d only gone about a mile when Ferris called to me.

“Hey, Evan! Hold up a minute. Come back here and act like you are checking the packhorse’s load.” He called softly.

George and I both stopped and I rode back to the packhorse and dismounted. Ferris joined me and we both fiddled with the packs. Speaking softly, Ferris said, “ Look back there, just crossing that little branch where we nooned. Do you see the riders?”

Yep. I make it to be four riders, no spare horses. What about you see anything I missed? Your eyes are a right smart younger than mine.”

“ That is what is see too. What do you make of it?” He asked.

“Nothin’ but puredee trouble. Mount up and let’s keep going.” I said quietly.

“Why don’t we wait for them and get this over with?” Ferris asked in a puzzled voice.

“Yeah,” added George, “I’m getting mighty derned tired of being followed. Let’s wait and give them a hot reception.”

With a sigh I said, “ Hasn’t it occurred to you boys that these four ain’t all the folks following us? There is a good chance that they are no more than a blocking force to keep us from running out of an ambush. If we wait here for these yahoos, their companions might take us in the rear while we are occupied with these four. Now let’s ride on until we see where the rest of them are. Since they’ve come into plain sight, the pot is about to boil. So mount up and keep your eyes and ears open.”

“Dammit Evan! What are we gonna do if we ride into an ambush? Stop and add up how many sumbitches we got to tangle with?” Ferris asked in exasperation.

I chuckled and replied, “Put the spurs to you horse and charge through the ambush. If we try to back out, those four back there will be on us like a duck on a junebug, if we don’t get cut down by the ambush. So charge through to the next dry wash. We’ll make a stand there.”

We didn’t have long to wait. About half a mile up stream, the trail curved around a shoulder of a hill. As we rode clear of the hill, we could see five men waiting a few hundred yards up the trail. We halted and drew together for a quick war council.

“What now Evan?” Asked George. “ Do we charge in shooting?”

“ No, let’s ride on acting fat dumb and happy. Act like we are not very worried to be meeting travelers on this trail. Stay alert but don’t shoot or even draw until I open fire, unless they get smart and shoot first while we are at long range.”

“What happens if they do open up at long range?” Ferris asked.

I reached down and cocked both hammers of my Greener and grinned as I said, “ Why Jim, my boy, it that case, we will probably not have to worry long because if those fellers don’t kill us, the ones coming up from behind surely will. Come on boys, let’s not keep our company waiting.” With that I lightly touched my heels to Beau’s side and rode forward.

As we rode toward the waiting riders, I couldn’t help but have doubts. Was there a better way to face the situation? How well would George and Ferris react under fire?

We rode forward at a slow walk to save the horses for the sprint that would follow the opening of hostilities. We hadn’t gone far when I called over my shoulder, “ Spread out boys. No sense lining up so somebody can take us all out with one shot from a buffalo gun.”

When we were about half way to the waiting men Jim Ferris spoke up, “Evan, those four men behind us are back at the curve. Are we riding into a trap?”

“They think we are. Let’s be ready to strike the first blow and turn the tables on them.” I said with more confidence than I felt.

By the time we were within a hundred yards of our welcoming committee, I recognized the man in the center as our visitor from the night before. As we got closer, he broke into a big grin.


I didn’t stop my horse until I was within fifteen feet of the big man. He spat on the ground contemptuously between us and snarled.

“Now who’s transporting who lawman? I see that you prisoner is still packing a gun.”

“I told you last night, don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. Unless you want to argue that, clear the road.” I snapped.

The big man and his cronies laughed at my bravado. “Hell, who are you trying to run a bluff on? There’s nine of us and just three of you!” More contemptuous laughter came from the gunmen. “On top of that, your are getting kinda long in the tooth lawman, and all you got to back your play is a green kid and a store clerk. Why don’t you just drop your guns and turn the boy over to us. We’ll let you go unharmed.”

With a slight touch of my heel, I made Beau act nervous and skittish. By the time I had him “calmed” and “Under control”, we were turned sideways across the trail with the muzzles of the Greener pointed at my tormentor.

“That is a right generous offer Mister. What in hell is your name anyway?” I asked in a bid for time.

“What difference does a name make anyway? I’m Mal Grant, the man that kid shot was my kid sister’s husband. And I aim to hang that little pissant, with or without your permission.”

“You ‘re right Mal, names don’t make much difference in a situation like this. But I like to know the names of the men I kill." With that, I pulled the front trigger of the Greener. I put Beau into a spin and pulled the back trigger as the barrels swept past another rider. I set my spurs to Beau and rode between two riders who were struggling to control their mounts. Beau hit both of them like a freight train and knocked both horses off their feet. Beau was off like a shot. I heard gunfire and galloping hooves behind me. I risked a glance back and saw both Jim and George close behind. Unfortunately, the remnants of our attackers were grouping to take up the pursuit. We were still not out of danger.

Half a mile further down the trail, an arroyo cut across the trail. I figured this would be as good a place to make a stand as any. At least we had some cover and the horses were still sound.

“OK boys! Pull up in that arroyo! We’ve run far enough! Time to earn our pay George.” Beau slid to a stop in the bottom or the arroyo and I leapt from the saddle even as I was pulling my carbine from its saddle boot. In seconds, Ferris and George were doing the same thing.

“George, take the left side, I’ll take the right. Jim, take these horses up behind that boulder. Tie ‘em and then go around so you can fire into their flank as they charge.”

We didn’t have long to wait. Within five minutes, the six survivors were charging us full out. They were laying down a hail of gunfire but it was to no effect. Our shots were better aimed to better effect.

Before the riders got within a hundred yards of our position, we had emptied two saddles and downed one horse. Our attackers withdrew taking their wounded with them. A spattering of rifle fire quickly shattered any thoughts that the attack had been abandoned. More worrisome was the sight of three riders swimming the creek about 400 yards down stream.

A quick look to my right sufficed to see that we really didn’t have to worry about long range flanking fire. A sharp bend in the arroyo cut off clear view from across the creek. The rear was another story. The far bank of the dry creek bed was about three feet higher than the one we were taking cover behind. Anyone firing over that side would be clearly exposed to the riflemen in front of us. We were in trouble.

“Hey Kid!!” I yelled. “Did you see where those shots came form? How many guns did you see?”

“I spotted ‘em, there were just two of them, Evan,” came the rely. “Want me to try flanking ‘em?”

“Stay where you are and look behind you once in a while,” I replied. “We’ve got company comin’ from there.”

“George, think you can squeeze between that boulder and the far bank without catching a bullet with your back?”

“Sure Evan. Give me a few seconds to get reloaded and I’ll go over.”

“Let me know when you are ready and the kid and I will give you some covering fire.” I said.

“OK. I’m ready when you are.”

“Wait until we lay down enough fire to keep their heads down.” I raised my voice, “Hey Jim, let’s make it hot for those yahoos in front of us!”

Jim’s response was a volley of gunfire that peppered the rocks sheltering our attackers. I opened fire quickly afterward and nodded to George to take off.

George bolted across the arroyo and up the far side. He quickly wedged himself between a boulder and the side of the arroyo before there was any return fire from our front.

Almost immediately, George yelled out, “Here they come!” and immediately opened fire. He had only let off three shots when he stopped firing and started cussing. The atackers to our front opened fire.

Still, George didn’t fire.

I yelled to Jim, “Keep their heads down kid, I’ve got to help George!”

I scrambled up the slope expecting to feel a bullet between my shoulder blades every inch of the way. I threw myself into the small hollow and almost into George’s lap. He was cussing and trying to force the lever of his rifle into battery.

“What’s wrong George?” I asked as I opened fire.

“My darned rifle is jammed!” He shouted.

“Here, take my rifle. If it runs empty, use your sixgun. I’ll try to get your rifle back in action.”

I took George’s rifle and quickly used my knife to unscrew the sideplate. The problem was just what I expected, a .45 Long Colt cartridge was jammed into the .38-40 WCF chamber. I used the blade to pry the cartridge out and quickly worked the lever until the magazine was empty. I then replaced the sideplate and gave it back to George.

“Reload your rifle and be darned sure you put the right cartridges in it this time,” I snarled. “ And trade off that darned .45 when we get back to St. Johns!”

I took my rifle and looked over the side of the arroyo just in time to see one rider shot from his saddle by Jim Ferris. Another rider fell to my first shot. The survivor quickly reined up and retreated, pursued by shots from George and me. I leaned around the boulder in order to shoot in the other direction. In the distance, I could see two horsemen riding hard in the opposite direction.

“Keep your heads down boys! They might be playing possum.” I called.

After about half an hour with no movement from the downed men we could see, and no gunfire from any we couldn’t see, I thought it would be safe to investigate matters.

“Jim, keep watch down stream. I’m going to check these bodies,” To George I simply said, “Keep me covered. I’d hate for that other feller to take me by surprise.”

I scrambled over the edge of the arroyo and quickly ran to the bodies laying in the dust. Both were dead. I returned quickly to the arroyo and slid to the bottom.

“Come on George,” I said as I headed for the down stream side of the arroyo. “Hey kid, we are going to check this side. Keep a good watch.”

We cautiously approached the rocks that had sheltered our attackers. Behind them we found one of them, proped against a boulder and bleeding from three wounds. As I approached, the wounded man moaned and tried to lift a sixgun in my direction. I easily kicked it out of his hands and knelt to examine his wounds.

“darn you! Why didn’t you go ahead and shoot me?” He groaned. “Why don’t you go ahead and shoot me. It’d just be puttin’ me out of my misery.”

“Why in hell should I do you any favors? You were just trying to kill me? Why? And what is your name?”

“Name’s Thad Fowler. My Mama was a Graham, so I was sort of kin to Ed Grant. Just thought I’d help Mal avenge him. Won’t you please shoot me?” The boy was moaning with pain. A brief look told me that there was not a chance that he’d survive.

“Let’s talk some more first. Was Mal Grant one of the ones who rode away?”

“Nope. He caught most of that load of buckshot. I caught one pellet myself. Mal is laying on the ground where we first met you.”

“Who were the others that rode away? What were the names of everyone in this gang?” I asked.

“Go to hell lawman! I ain’t squealing on my pards.” Again he lapsed into coughing and groaning.

“If that’s the way you want it Fowler, have it your way. Come on George let’s get out of here and leave this feller to his dying. Maybe he’ll even be lucky enough to die before the buzzards come.” We both stood and started to walk away. As we started around the boulder, the boy started to cry. I stopped.

I took the boy’s revolver from my belt and unloaded it. “Got any more cartridges in you belt boy?” I asked.

“Yessir.” Came the choked response.

“Then here’s a gun. I wouldn’t wait for the buzzards if I were you. This is the only help I can give you.” I tossed him the sixgun and walked quickly around the boulder and back toward the arroyo. Before I reached the shelter of the arroyo, a single shot rang out.

“Saddle up boys,” I shouted. “We’re burning daylight.”

“What are we going to do about the bodies?” asked Ferris.

“Give ‘em the same treatment they’d give us. Leave ‘em where they dropped. We will at least try to get identification from these other two so we can report their demise. Now saddle up while I look for any papers on those two.”

Neither George nor Jim were very happy with my decision, but they kept their mouths shut. I had a feeling that this was the first real fight either of them had been involved in. They were both subdued the rest of the afternoon.

We resumed of custom of riding hard and long. My urge to reach St. Johns in record time was renewed. The only difference between this and our initial dash was the cold shoulder Jim and George were giving me. No longer did we have a cheerful camp. By the third night, part of my anger has shifted from Perry Owens to my traveling companions. I did not like that and decided to bring things to a head.

“Dammit boys! Why in Hell are you mad with me? I lead you through a three against one fight and none of us even got a scratch. What do you want?” I demanded.


“Evan, we know that we couldn’t have gotten out of that mess without you. But did we have to just leave the dead for the buzzards?” Ferris asked.

“Yeah Evan, and that Fowler kid. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Couldn’t we have done something for him?” added George.

“Damnation! What do you think would have happened if we had lost that fight? We’d all be buzzard bait and not a clod of dirt over us. Jim, you’d have been lucky to die in the gunfight. I suspect that a neat clean hanging was not exactly what Mal Grant had in mind. Most likely a bit of torture would have come before a noose. As for that Fowler boy, I did more for that poor bastard than Doc Quick would have done. At least I let the poor bastard end his pain instead of dragging it out for peritonitis to kill ‘em in a week or so. Things might have been different if we had been closer to St. Johns, but I’m darned it I intend to ride that far with a stinking stiff trailing behind or waste time burying folks that were just trying to kill me.”

“I don’t think I need to tell you that this is a hard country, and you are working in a hard profession. If you can’t take what that means, you’d better move to a softer country and take up a less violent profession.”

“Think ill of me if you wish. Call me a hard hearted old bastard and I won’t argue. But don’t expect me to apologize for saving our hides. If the situation comes up again tomorrow, I’ll do things the same way. I ain’t interested it takin’ more prisoners on this trip. Now get some sleep. We’ll be up before the sun and not stop this side of St. Johns. I’ll take first watch.”

We rode hard that day and got within sight of St. John a few hours before sundown. I told George and Jim to take the packhorse and spare horses to the livery stable and to take plenty of time before reporting to the Sheriff’s Office. I wanted some time for private conversation with Perry before they arrived.

“What do you intend doin’ Evan?” asked Ferris.

“I’ve got some hard words to say and don’t much want to share ‘em with anyone but Perry Owens. You’ll be hearin’ enough after I’m gone.”

“After you’re gone? You mean your gonna quit?” George said incredulously.

With a mirthless laugh I said, “I don’t think Perry will tell it around that I quit, but after our talk, he won’t want me around. And that is fer darned sure.” With that I tickled Beau’s side with my spurs and rode in to St. Johns at a high lope.

[ceb]

TTT, keep it coming Doc!!