 
"REVENGE REQUIRES TWO GRAVES"

### by

### George Emery Townsend

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional. The author humbly begs your pardon.

Cover design by Ian Townsend

Editing by Dawn, Steffi and Zoe Townsend

Book design by George Emery Townsend

All rights reserved.

### DEDICATION

### Many books start with a dedication to family, friends or an interesting life experience. When I thought about a dedication, I wanted to do something different, to stand out somehow, and to make this book really zing with new revelation. After great battles with my inner soul, torment over what was real and what was fiction, my mind was made up. I decided that this book was solely created because of my family, friends, and interesting life experience.

### Thank you to Dawn: for spending your entire life at my side, through the good and bad. You are a woman to ride the river with. Parents: you are responsible for the way the little boy turned out and for the strong Midwest attitude and morals I carry today. Brothers: I was always the one following, looking up to my big brothers. Thank you for never letting me down. My sons: the characters in this book are dissections of everything wonderful about each of you. I had the privilege of watching my children grow into strong men. My girls: you were my inspiration for creating strong, intelligent woman to stand tall within the pages of my book. My friends: you helped make me who I am, helped form the way I think and react and gave me all those interesting life experiences.

### Thank you all.

Copyright © 2009 by George Emery Townsend

### Table of Contents

### The Mill

### Heading North

### The Diversion

### Turn Around is Fair Play

### Going Home

### Larry's Family

### Missouri

### Hired Guns

### Laurie and Richard

### West

### Morgan

### Zeke

### Pawnee Camp

### Ft. Kearney

### Closing the Mill

### Jack Smoot

### The Mill Lives Again

### Fort Laramie

### Revenge Requires Two Graves

### Ida Potts

### A Comrade Lost

### Our Day Off

### Meeting the Sisters

### Warrior

### The Sioux

### Deep Creek

### Loss

### The Kiss

### Straight Ahead

### The Sierras

### Mrs. Cooper

### Highwaymen

### Rendezvous

### Marshal William Larsen

### Fort Sutter

### Schmitt

### The Search

### Phillip

### Two from San Francisco

### Kingston

### The Cabin

### The Confrontation

### Lost Herd

### Chapter 1

### The Mill

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" Loud pounding at the front door awakened Ray, almost knocking it off its hinges and Ray from his bed.

"Emery, Emery, wake up damn it!" came Skip's voice from the other side of the door.

As the lantern light in his parents' bedroom flickered on, Ray could hear his Pa graveling his usual groan as he raised himself from the bed. "Hold your horses, Skip, I'm coming!"

Swinging open the front door, Emery shouted, "What the hell is so important that it can't wait 'til I get to the mill?"

-CKS-

Emery Cooper worked at the lumber company as a timber cruiser. His job was to search the back woods, evaluating and recording the types and sizes of the timber for future cuttings. It was during these searches that Emery hoped to find a small section he could claim for himself. A place he could go where he no longer worked for the Foster Timber Company. The land was to be a sort of legacy he could hand down to his family. As luck would have it, Emery found such a place while exploring the North Woods. The land consisted of small rolling hills rich with timber, fed by a large flowing river that would be the route for cut timber heading down stream to the mill. Crystal Lake, pristine in its stillness, sat to the east edge of the property and was surrounded by game. It was the perfect place for Emery to live out the rest of his life knowing that his family would be looked after once he was gone.

-CKS-

"You don't understand, Emery. They're headin' out to cut your timber!" cried Skip.

"Who's headin' out to cut my timber?" questioned Emery.

"The guys from the mill, Emery, they're on their way to cut down your timber!"

"Like hell they are!" yelled Emery as he turned into the house. "Ray, Mildred, wake up. We got trouble."

Wiping the sleep from his eyes and listening to Skip and his Pa, Ray was reminded of when this conflict first started one month ago.

-CKS-

It was lunchtime at the mill and, as always, Ray could be found sitting with his Pa. He enjoyed listening to the conversations between Pa with his friends, but he really liked the stories they would tell Ray about his Pa and the early days.

With the dining hall filled with tobacco smoke, most of the men had moved outside to eat their lunches while sharing lies and exaggerated stories with each other. Ray remembered the men suddenly falling silent when they saw the foreman approach.

Chewing a dirty cigar in the corner of his mouth, he shouted out to Ray's Pa to put together a crew of men to go up to the property next to Crystal Lake.

"What the hell are ya talkin' about Gus? That land is recorded in my name and I paid for it. No one but me is gonna be cutting any of that damn timber! And you can be sure of that!" Emery warned.

Gus stopped a few steps in front of Ray's Pa, leaning forward with his left hand resting on his left knee and the right hand resting on the sore back he never had because he never worked a day in his life. With his head wobbling on his shoulders Gus said, "Well by God that ain't the way Mr. Foster sees it." Every sentence Gus said always started with "Well by God".

"Well that's just too damn bad for Mr. Foster. I've done enough cruising for that man and his mill to keep the lumberjacks busy for years." Ray's Pa said as he set his feet and crossed his arms. "He'll just have to forget about my land."

"Well, we'll see about that ya sons a bitches," Gus yelled as he rocked his head back and forth and turned to leave the porch. He also always said "sons a bitches," instead of "son of a bitch".

Ray remembered his Pa turning his back on Gus and started walking slowly back towards the group of men that had been listening to the argument. "Go to hell, Gus!" Pa yelled.

"Don't worry about that scrawny piece of crap, Emery. No way can they touch your land. Everyone here knows that's your property," Skip called from the group of men.

Weeks had passed since the argument between the foreman and Emery. It seemed the problem had been forgotten.

-CKS-

"How do you know they're after my timber?" shouted Emery. Skip rushed into the house and started to close the door behind him, leaving a crack just big enough to be able to continue to look around outside.

"Emery, I saw a crew headin' out early this mornin'." Skip was nearly out of breath. "I caught up to um and asked Jim Matheson what they were up to. He told me none of them were told they were headed up north to fell timber off your land 'til after they left the mill and then they weren't allowed to come warn ya. I was lucky to get away from the group and get back here. Emery, Jim said to warn ya that there would be trouble if ya tried to stop 'em."

"Skip, I sure could use you and the boys' help protectin' what's mine," requested Emery.

"I knew you were gonna ask that," said Skip as he looked away. "Damn it Emery, ya know I'd do anything for ya. But you're askin' too much. I'm afraid this is all I dare do. If they find out I warned ya they'd throw my family and me out of the mill. We'd starve, Emery. I got a family to think of."

"Take it easy Skip, I understand. Sorry, but I had to ask," said Emery with a dismissing wave of his hand.

"Can't you just find another section of timber?" begged his friend. "They'll kill ya if ya try to stop that crew".

"No, that won't work either. Foster would just get around to lumbering that section too, once he finished lumbering Crystal Lake. Besides, I sunk all I had into that property. It's got to end right now, one way or another."

"What're ya gonna do?" asked Skip nervously as he watch Emery load his gun.

"Whatever it takes. My response won't exceed the push. But I'll tell ya this, no one but me and mine are gonna be timbering my land as long as I'm still breathing."

"Emery, did you think about the fact that it could be your friends that ya have to shoot and kill?"

Emery looked at Skip painfully then glanced across the room to Ray and Mildred.

"Pa I'm ready to go. We'll think of somethin'," Ray said standing next to his Ma.

"I'm sure we will son," Emery said reassuringly as he crossed the room to his family.

Emery looked into Mildred's tear filled eyes, "Don't worry sweetie. We'll only shoot at 'em if we have to."

"I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about you and Ray getting killed," cried Mildred as she broke away and ran into the kitchen.

Emery followed Mildred into the kitchen catching her arm and pulling her close to him. He placed his hand on her cheek; flushed red against her porcelain complexion. He stroked her chestnut brown hair curling a strand around his finger. Damn he loved this woman fiercely, even after thirty years. He whispered softly into her ear, "Please don't worry about Ray and me. I know what I'm doin' and you and I both know we have no choice. That land is for this family to have a new start, out from under the mill."

"I know Emery, but I just have a bad feeling something awful is about to happen," cried Mildred as she pushed herself away from Emery and wiped her tears." Now go on with ya, I'll pack you some food for your trip."

Mildred turned her back to Emery and began making herself busy in the kitchen.

Emery smiled knowing he had made the right choice all those years ago when he asked Mildred's father for her hand. She was a woman to ride the river with.

Returning to the main room Emery answered the questioning look on Ray's and Skip's faces, "The first thing I'm going to do is see Mr. Foster."

"Emery, that ain't gonna do you no good," Skip paused. "You'll be lucky if he doesn't just shoot you."

"I have to try," said Emery. "Ray, open the door for Skip. Thanks for the warning. You're a good friend." Emery said kindly to Skip.

Skip lowered his head as he stepped out the doorway and onto the porch. "Well you're right Emery. I best be off now before someone sees me. Best of luck to you and yours," Skip reached out a hand. Emery clasped it, shaking it soundly. Then Skip extended his hand to Emery's son. "To you too Ray. Watch after your Pa for me"

"I will, Skip. We'll see you in a few days," Ray said with a forced smile.

"I sure hope so boy," responded Skip, as he stepped off the porch. "Goodbye Mrs. Cooper," Skip called out to Mildred who was busy in the kitchen starting a pot of coffee while she alternately prayed for her men and cussed the Foster family.

Shutting the door behind him, Emery walked into the kitchen. Ray could hear him talking softly, reassuring Ma. "Don't ya worry about this Mildred, I'm sure it all can be worked out. But just in case, could you put together enough grub for say, a week?" Emery kissed her cheek.

"Already started, husband. By the time you get the horses saddled I'll have some breakfast ready, too," said Mildred, making herself busy to avoid worrying. "I don't plan to take Ray unless my visit to the Foster's doesn't pan out. Then I'm afraid I will need him," Emery said quietly to his wife.

As Emery walked to the door and threw his coat on, he noticed Ray putting on his coat as well. "Now where do ya think you're goin'? You just stay here until I get back from Mr. Foster's house, son."

"No way, Pa, I'm going with ya." Ray protested.

"It could be dangerous."

"That's why I need to go. Someone has to watch your back Pa."

"Well I guess that land's goin' to be as much yours as it is mine. I reckon at sixteen you're man enough for the challenge, but do as I say and do it quick," warned Emery.

"Yes sir," Ray said standing by the door.

Running toward the door, Mildred threw her arms around Emery's neck, holding him tight. Seeing Ray with his coat on, she pulled him into her hug with Emery.

"Don't ya worry darlin', we'll be back either in a few minutes or a few days, it's all up to Foster. But don't ya go worryin' about us, we'll be home before ya know it," smiled Emery.

"Don't tell me not to worry. This isn't like you're going off to work. There's going to be shooting. I just know it," cried Mildred.

"Listen, we're gonna be all right. You have to trust me," smiled Emery holding Mildred's face in his work callused hands. "You do trust me don't ya?"

"Of course I trust you. It's the Foster's I don't trust."

"I'm sorry to have to put you through this, but Ray and I will be fine. Now give your ol' husband and son another big hug."

After getting the horses saddled Ray and Emery ate their breakfast quickly. Venturing outside into the cold morning air Ray held the horses as Emery tied the bags of grub onto the back of the saddles. Swinging up onto their mounts, they headed for the Fosters'. When they reached the house on the other side of the mill town, Emery and Ray dismounted their horses and tied them off at the front gate. Standing at the door they could hear a lady's voice yelling orders with the plans of the day to the servants.

After knocking hard on the door it swung open, revealing a sturdy woman whose girth filled most of the doorframe.

"What am I to do for you gentlemen?" asked the large woman.

"I want to see Mr. Foster, right now!" Emery demanded.

"A lot of people would like to see Mr. Foster right away, but that don't mean it'll happen. What's your business with Mr. Foster?" The woman said pertly.

"Just tell him Emery Cooper is here to see him!"

"He's just sitting down to his breakfast and cannot be disturbed." With that she moved to slam the door in their faces.

Now, Emery was a fairly patient man, slow to anger, but once he got mad, he was like a wounded bear. Unfortunately for the woman, he had reached that limit.

Emery stuck his foot into the doorjamb to stop it from closing, and with his shoulder against the door he pushed his way into the hallway. With eyes wide open, the woman moved back to allow Emery in. Ray simply followed the storm into the entryway.

"Now I'm going to say this just once. Either you tell him that he has company or I will," Emery said, in a controlled, fierce whisper.

"It's okay Sandra," came a calm voice from down the hallway, "I'll take care of this."

"Thank you Mr. Foster, thank you. I'm so sorry for the disturbance Mr. Foster. He just pushed right in," apologized Sandra.

"Go back to the kitchen, Sandra. I'll take care of my guests," said Mr. Foster with an air of arrogance. "Gentlemen, follow me. We can talk in the study."

Emery and Ray followed Mr. Foster through the open door and into the warmly lit room. Stopping in front of the fireplace, Foster turned to face the two men. Emery was standing to Ray's right, breathing hard, with a look that could kill.

"Now gentlemen, what is this disruption all about?" wheeled Mr. Foster.

"You fat son-of-a-bitch, you know exactly what this is all about. You sent a crew to my land to begin removin' timber. Now either you tell them to turn around or you pay me full price for every tree you pull off my property," Emery seethed as he spat out the words.

"Now, Mr. Cooper, you knew when you claimed that land you were working for me, and while in my employ, any land you claim is Company Land," Mr. Foster said with a condescending glare.

"That's bull-shit and you know it. When I claimed land for the company I was on company time and used company money to register it. But I found that land on MY time and used MY own money to register MY land on Crystal Lake, and anyone who steps foot on MY land will be shot for trespassin'."

Turning towards the door Emery looked at Ray. "Come on son. We're leavin'."

"Are you tryin' to threaten me, Mr. Cooper? You and your boy there?"

Emery turned and walked towards Mr. Foster, stopping just inches from his pudgy face. "I'm not threatenin' you Foster, just givin' you fair warnin'." With that Emery turned and headed out of the over-furnished study.

Following close behind, Ray could hear Mr. Foster yell, "You're fired, Cooper!"

Emery laughed and spat over his shoulder, "I wouldn't work for you for all the money in Wisconsin. You can go straight to hell, Foster."

Moving toward the front door, Ray spotted a girl standing not five feet from the study. She was beautiful, wearing a long white dress that fell smoothly over her hips. Her blond hair was held behind her head in a bun with small curls cascading down onto the sides of her face. Ray looked into her eyes and her glance seemed to climb to the back of his head, straight down through his throat and tore into his heart. She had heard her Pa yelling, but had not moved to intervene and Ray could see from her expression that she felt sorry for them. Not wanting her Pa to hear, she spoke in just a whisper, reaching out a hand that she did not want taken.

"Please be careful; he hurts people that get in his way," and as suddenly as she had appeared she was gone. The young man's heart had climbed well up into his throat and was trapped there. Ray knew he would have to see that girl again.

"Son, let's go," ordered Emery standing in the open front door way.

### Chapter 2

### Heading North

Emery figured Foster's men already had a good day's ride ahead of him and would be cutting down his trees as soon as they set up camp. With time of the essence, Emery decided he and Ray would head out straight away for his cabin at Crystal Lake. Since it was already stocked with plates, cups and cookware, along with blankets and a couple of cots, all they needed to bring were the supplies they already had and then supplement them with any game they shot. They could set up for a few days there and see exactly what the crew was up to.

Both of them wore Colts and Emery had a back up Colt in one of his saddlebags. The rifles they carried in their scabbards were the new lever action type with the same caliber of ammunition as their revolvers. A man needs guns to defend his land and Emery had the best. Ray had never appreciated the long hours he'd stood beside his Pa down by the river shooting bottles and anything that drifted by- until now.

There was still a surprise coming for Ray when they reached the cabin. On an earlier trip to the cabin, Emery had stashed a couple boxes of dynamite he planned to use on stumps, but would also work as a deterrent.

They figured it would take about four to five days to reach their destination, especially in the snow. It was the middle of October, and even though the snow made it easier for the logs to be loaded down river, the cold and wet made traveling harsh.

At the top of the small rise Emery pulled up and turned his horse around to look back at the small settlement they had called home for several years.

"What are you lookin' at, Pa?" asked Ray as he turned and pulled his mount up along side of his Pa.

"Take a good long look son. I figure after this, things are just not going to be the same," sighed Emery.

Standing his horse on the edge of the forest Ray looked to the south at the only world he had ever known. The pines densely surrounded the checkerboard of cabins, each facing in different directions. Their disposition was likely based more on a stubborn stump that they chose to build around rather than spend a couple days digging out. The cabins all sat directly in front of the Coopers' view with smoke beginning to exit the many chimneys. Behind the cabins, further south and up a small trail that disappeared into the trees one could just make out the roofline of the impressive Foster mansion. To the east the mill sat idle next to the crystal clear cold waters of the river that fed power to the saw blades and sent the cut trees further south. From here Ray could just make out the rope he and his friends had used to swing out on the river for fun, when the sun beat down on the small town during the stifling hot summer months.

Ray was snapped out of his daydream by his Pa. "Let's go finish this, son."

The two turned their horses north and began making their way up the trail to Crystal Lake.

-CKS-

On the second day out Emery and Ray caught sight of the crew and decided to leave the trail to avoid being seen. Riding hard for about ten miles in the same direction alongside the trail, they were hoping to be able to swing back around in front of the crew and set up a proper welcome.

Near sundown they found a good location and made camp. As always in Southern Wisconsin the pine trees pushed in around them like a dark wall. Ray hid a small fire around some rocks and under the tree branches to break up the smoke. The location provided good cover from searching eyes and plenty of fresh water from a nearby stream. Dinner would be boiled jerky, pan bread, and coffee. After being in the saddle all day it was a welcomed feast.

Sitting around the warm fire with the snow piled up at their backs the food went down quickly. With dinner eaten, Emery left Ray sitting by the small fire and headed north to try and locate the crew. Ray enjoyed being out in the woods alone, especially when the landscape was covered by snow and there was a warm fire. With the combination of a full stomach, warm fire, and an intense, peaceful quiet, Ray soon found himself forgetting about all of his problems and nodded off. The young man was startled from his sleep by the rustling noise of his Pa warming his hands at the fire. "Did ya find them Pa?" asked Ray as he rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, they have a camp about a mile behind us to the east. They're travelin' just on the other side of the hills. I figure it'll take us a couple more days to get well enough ahead of them."

"That Foster girl told me that her Pa hurt people that got in his way," said Ray.

"Don't think you have to worry about Mr. Foster, son. The way that girl stopped you in your tracks, I would say it's that Foster you better worry about," laughed Pa.

Hearing his Pa laugh was reassuring to Ray. It had been several days since he'd heard the joyful, low chuckle of his Pa's laugh.

"Well, she was awful pretty," Ray said in his defense, feeling the heat rise up into his face.

"The boys at the mill told me she arrived about a week ago. They said Mr. Foster sent her away to a boarding school after her mother died, but decided to have her come back home after he moved into the big house at the mill. Someone else said they heard that she was kicked out of boardin' school, so Foster had to bring her home. It was supposed to have been pretty serious whatever she did." Emery explained.

"Pa, do you think a girl like that could like a guy like me?" Ray choked out without realizing. "Oh, never mind."

"Don't ever cut yourself short son. Everyone puts their pants on one leg at a time."

"Yeah, but unfortunately some people have nicer pants than others," Ray said disappointedly.

Emery smiled sadly, silently acknowledging the veracity of his son's insight into the unfair rules of society. "You better turn in now, we have a lot of ridin' ahead of us tomorrow and I expect the snow to get a little deeper as we continue north."

Pulling his blankets back up over his shoulders, Ray laid back, knowing it was going to be hard to sleep with the thoughts of that pretty girl filling his head, no matter the unlikelihood of her ever being his.

The next morning Ray woke to the smell of coffee and boiled jerked beef. It was still dark but the camp was lit by the warm glow of the cooking fire. With his blankets pulled back, Ray looked over at his Pa. "That coffee smells awful good, but I have to say, your cookin' falls a little short when compared to Ma's."

"Well remember I ate your cookin' last night, I think we both better spend more time in the kitchen watchin' your Ma cook," smiled Emery as he handed Ray a plate of food. "We should reach the cabin by nightfall. Keep an eye peeled for any game; we'll need the meat. Eat up; we need to get an early start. We'll need time to set up a nice warm welcome for our uninvited guests."

The two were in the saddle just before sunrise. Ray couldn't believe how beautiful the forest was in the early morning light. Each branch was covered with snow and ice that caught the rays of the sun and sparkled. The trees began to close in on the trail on all sides as they reached the Birch forest. Emery said the trees would get pretty thick by the time they reached their land. At noon they stopped the horses and made a dry camp.

"Since you don't like my cookin', you can make lunch," smiled Emery as he grabbed an axe and mounted up.

Ray asked him what the axe was for, but Emery rode off without a word, only to wave back that he'd be back in a jiffy.

Ray found some dry wood under a tree fall, made a small fire and began to fix lunch.

When Emery returned he had a big smile on his face. He sat down and ate some of Ray's lunch and threw back a couple cups of coffee. Rising, he poured the remains of the coffee over the ambers to put the fire out.

"Not bad vittles son, you may be our regular cook from now on," joked Emery.

Ray knew he would be paying for that earlier comment about his Pa's cooking for weeks to come.

As they mounted up Ray asked, "Aren't you ever goin' to tell me what you did with that axe?"

Emery started to chuckle. "I dropped a couple trees across the crew's path. I figure they'll spend a better part of the day cuttin' and movin' them outta' their way."

Emery and Ray both broke into a gut wrenching laugh thinking about the mill crew having to cut their way through the obstruction, all the while cussing out their assailants.

-CKS-

After riding all day in patches of deep snow they arrived at the cabin. Trotting up to the front of their cabin they dismounted and tied their horses to the porch post. They were walking slowly towards the front of the house when Emery turned to Ray and said, "Don't forget to bring the deer in with you. I'd hate to see it go to waste out here after that lucky shot you made."

"I hit what I aim at Pa," Ray said with a smile.

Emery looked at his son very seriously, "I sure hope so son. I'm afraid we're gonna need your gun before this is over."

The small cabin was built near the lake in a grove of trees. It was intended to be for hunting trips and as a temporary shelter until they could build their home. It was built just outside the normal route to where the timber would be cut. Though seemingly a simple structure, Ray quickly realized it was a strongly constructed building with open ground on all sides. There were small windows with shutters on the inside of the window openings, and a large fireplace set up for cooking. The front door had to be at least six inches thick with a large beam to drop into place to keep out hostiles. What impressed Ray the most was that his Pa had dug a well inside the house that supplied all the drinking water one could ever need. Emery had never spoken about the details of how he built the cabin but Ray now realized his Pa had built it more like a fortress, knowing this day might someday come.

"My God Pa, this looks more like a fort than a cabin!" Ray observed.

"I had a couple close calls out here so it didn't take long before I figured out what a man needs in order to stay alive. I just put all the ideas together in one safe place. Once we move the family up here we'll need this place to go to in case of an attack. I never thought I would be using it to protect us from friends," Emery added sadly.

Ray wondered whether his Pa could really take a shot at his friends. If one of them fired at him, could he return fire? Ray wasn't so sure, but he also knew that his Pa would never give up the land he secured for his family.

After unpacking their saddlebags and stocking the cabin with their supplies, Ray hoped they would be staying for a day or so just to heal up some of his saddle sores. But it was not to be, and they rode out early the next morning, Emery was concerned as to where the crew was and what they were up to. The sun hadn't yet risen and it was very cold. Water vapor blew from the nostrils of their mounts as they rode out. The smell of iron in the air confirmed there would soon be more snowfall.

The longer they rode this land the more Ray fell in love with it and the more he wanted to protect it. He no longer felt the saddle sores or worried about his own wants and needs. He and his Pa were in a war that they might not ride away from. They hadn't asked for this battle but they sure as hell weren't going to run from it. With each mile they rode to intercept the logging crew, their resolve grew with an angry strength.

After a restless night spent shivering in their bedrolls, Emery and Ray had ridden about a half-mile when they first spotted the timber crew. The two dismounted and crawled on their bellies to the top of the small ridge in order to gain a good vantage point of the crew's camp.

The crew had their tents set up alongside the trail, south of Ray and Emery.

"Son, you stay here and cover my back. Most of those men are my friends. I have to talk to them before the shootin' starts. I got to know where they stand."

"Pa, are ya sure? I mean, if they're here doesn't that mean they're against us?"

"Not necessarily son, not necessarily. Now keep your eyes open and keep that Winchester cocked and ready to fire. Do you understand?"

"Yeah Pa, I understand, but I sure wish there was another way."

"Well, I do too and if you can think of one, let's hear it."

Ray just looked at his Pa. He didn't have any other ideas and he understood what his Pa had to do. Emery would never open fire on friends until he knew for sure there was no way around it.

Moving back down the side of the hill, Emery mounted up, riding tall in the saddle as he passed Ray's hiding place on the ridge. Ray had never seen more courage and pure guts in a single man, and he was never more proud of his Pa than he was right then. Emery rode straight down the hill and directly into the camp. Faces of friends turned in recognition as he approached, then turned quickly away. They were the actions of guilty men who sold out their friend and his family's future all for money. Being hard times and Ray knowing his Pa as he did, he knew Emery would neither blame the men nor support them in their decision to cut the timber.

Ray watched Emery ride through the crowd of men. Four men standing directly in front of his horse stopped him. A small group gathered around as Emery sat his saddle.

All four of the men looked to be seasoned lumberjacks. They were very large and tall, with arms the size of the tree trunks they worked so hard to fell. Three of the four had rifles resting in the bend of their elbows. The largest of the three with a bright red beard and stepped forward with authority. Ray could just barely hear the conversation between the bearded man and Emery.

"Well Emery Cooper, did you come lookin' for a job?" enquired the bearded man with a malicious smile. While the other three laughed loudly, the rest of the crew stood silent and uneasy.

"No, actually I've come to help ya see you've made a terrible mistake. The timber you want is on the Kettle Range, it's that way," Pa said with a genial smile, gesturing to the west. A couple men in the group chuckled but then turned away to keep from being identified.

"Ain't the Kettle timber we're after and you know it. We're here to cut down every damn tree on that private land of yours," boasted the bearded man.

"Well then," said Emery shaking his head, "that's a shame. So, I guess I'll just give you my warning and ride on out." Emery sat straight up in his saddle and looked out over the men. Many of these men had shared lunch breaks with him, come over for dinner, sat next to each other in church and now they stood like cowards prepared to cut down one of their own. Emery felt a little sick and disappointed as he looked over the group of hidden faces. Rising up to stand in his stirrups so he could see each of them and so all could hear, Emery spoke softly but with purpose, "Just so you all know, any man that swings an ax on my land is no friend of mine and is subject to receivin' a piece of lead."

Taking a challenging stance in front of Emery, the bearded man growled. "You talk pretty tough for a man standin' all alone in the woods against a camp full of men. Why, you're either the bravest son of a bitch I ever met or one of the dumbest."

"Well, I guess that's yet to be determined," said Emery, glaring down into the bearded man's eyes.

As quick as a cat, the bearded man reached up and grabbed Emery from the saddle, pulling him hard to the ground. Before he could recover and regain his feet, the bearded man kicked Emery full in the ribs. Emery feel back down on his face in the shallow snow. The bearded man's laugh filled the tops of the trees as he bent his head back in a deep roar.

"This is just too easy. I'm gonna be finishin' this fight before it even gets started."

Grabbing an axe out of the hands of a man standing next to him, the bearded man raised it over his head and took aim. Before it moved downward, a shot rang out, echoing through the trees.

The bearded man, still holding the axe overhead, turned a complete, slow circle, with a look of shock on his face. Directly in the center of his forehead was a third eye. Blood began to drain from his skull as he dropped to his knees, falling face first into the snow. Everyone in the group froze, hoping not to attract the next bullet to arrive on the scene.

Unassisted by his friends, Emery rose to his feet as they all moved back away from him like he had the plague. Grabbing his saddle horn, Emery could barely pull himself up, and with great effort settled himself back into his saddle. He looked around the group to see the faces of his lost friends but no one would look him in the eye. He turned his horse and slowly rode out of the camp.

Emery encouraged his horse up the slope to meet Ray on the other side of the ridge. Ray was still holding his rifle at the ready when Emery rode up beside him.

"Thanks son. You saved my life. Now mount up and let's get gone," said Emery sadly.

### Chapter 3

### The Diversion

Arriving at their cabin they dismounted in front of a small stable that Emery had built just behind their cabin. The stable was still without a front door but provided sufficient protection for the horses in a cold Wisconsin winter. The door would be built and placed once this battle was over. They walked the horses into the stable and pulled their saddles off. With fists full of straw they began wiping down the horses.

"Son, I know you never killed a man before, let alone even aimed at any one with intent. You're gonna be thinkin' about what happened back there for a long time and questioning yourself. You need to know you made a man-sized decision today and I want you to remember that that decision saved my life. I wish I could tell you that you'll never have to shoot at a man again, but I fear there will be a lot more killin' before this is done."

Ray was about to ask what else he could have done when they heard the sound of horse hooves out front of the cabin. They both grabbed their rifles and moved quickly to the front of the stable. Cocking his rifle, Emery leaned out of the opening just enough to look over at the front porch of the cabin.

"Mr. Cooper, Mr. Cooper, Ray, are you there?" came a soft voice.

"Who the heck is that Pa?" Ray asked.

"Well I'll be damned, it's that Foster girl." Emery said. "Hey girl, who's with ya?"

"No one Mr. Cooper, I came alone to warn you," she cried, riding her horse toward the front of the stable.

"You mean to tell me you rode all the way up here by yourself?" asked Emery.

"I rode out with four of my Pa's men towards the crew camp, but I split up with them about five miles back. They went on to the camp and I came here. I didn't want them to know exactly where your cabin was."

"How did you know where the cabin was?" Emery questioned.

"Mrs. Cooper told me."

"What? Damn, that woman is gonna get us killed," said Emery under his breath.

"No, No," said the Foster girl. "After I told her about my Pa's intentions she told me."

"What intentions are those? Taking my land? You forget we already figured that one out."

"No, I heard him talking to four of his men after you left. He wants to put a mill here in order to lumber trees further north and he told them he knew if he sent a crew up here, that you'd follow. He ordered them to make sure you didn't come back. He needs you dead in order to take over the land. Those four men are only up here to make sure you don't come back," she began to cry, her eyes glowing from unshed tears, her blonde hair whipped loose from the wind.

Ray left the safety of the stable to help her down off her horse. She let her arms wrap around his shoulders and her face tucked into his chest. Holding Ray tightly, her tears slowed as she realized he was holding her back. When her watery eyes meet Ray's, he could feel her breath on his cold face. Ray's heart was melting for this tender, frail girl.

"It's gonna be all right. Do you think your Pa has any idea you're here?" Ray asked softly.

"He probably thinks I ran away again. He doesn't know I over-heard him," reported the girl. "He is so heartless, to kill people over a piece of land," she choked out, her voice trembling.

"People have killed for a lot less," Ray said. "But you're right and it's not a game we're happy to be dealt into either. Let's get your horse inside the stable and you inside where it's warm."

She surprised Ray by her show of affection when she drew her arm around his and pulled him in close. Ray took hold of the horse's bridle and they walked into the stable together. Emery stopped behind them staring, looking down at the deep tracks left by her horse. The Foster girl hadn't covered up her tracks as they had done, traveling through creeks, over rocks, and even back over their own trail to make sure no one could follow. She had left a path right to their front door.

"Do you think anyone saw you take off?" Emery asked.

Ray turned to face his Pa when he saw the tracks Emery was looking at.

"The men I rode with swore they wouldn't tell, and no one saw me," she answered.

"Let's hope so," said Emery as he walked heavily into the cabin.

Ray placed her horse into the stall next to his horse that he simply called "Horse". Removing the saddle and blanket he picked up a handful of straw and began to rub the horse down.

"I don't know how to thank you for riding all the way up here to warn us. I don't even know your name." Ray said as he turned toward her.

"My name's Samantha, and I can think of a way," she said with a shy look on her face as she moved in closer.

Ray moved back a little as her move forward spooked him.

"Haven't you ever kissed a girl before?" she said slyly with a smile forming on her lips.

"Of course I have," Ray lied.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she slowly moved her face to his placing a soft kiss onto his lips. She pulled back slightly looking up into Ray's eyes and then moved her head to push her lips hard against his. Ray's mind was so flooded with emotion and excitement by the unfamiliar attention paid to him by this beautiful girl that he never heard the muffled sounds coming from the cabin. She pushed her body up against his as she pulled him in closer and ran her fingers through his hair. Ray was totally lost in her grasp. She pulled her face back again and looked into his eyes as she reached down the front of his chest. Stopping at his belt buckle she unfastened his gun belt. It fell away from Ray's waist and she tossed it across the stable. Ray didn't care; his mind was racing with what might be coming next. She was definitely in control and Ray did not argue. She pulled Ray to the stable floor with a look in her eyes that was both evil and exciting. As they settled to the floor next to each other Ray was awakened from his fog by another loud noise outside.

"What the hell was that?" Ray said as he rose with a start.

"It was nothing, don't leave yet. Aren't you enjoying yourself?" Samantha said as she held his arm to keep him from investigating.

"I heard somethin'," Ray snapped.

"I heard it too. I think your Pa is just cutting some wood," she explained, tugged at Ray's belt.

Not wanting this new experience to end Ray easily accepted her explanation and returned to her embrace.

-CKS-

Many passionate moments later, they both rose from the stable floor, brushing straw off as they exited the stable.

"You go ahead; I want to freshen up a bit." Samantha purred.

"Okay, I'll see you inside," Ray told her as he picked up his gun belt and headed towards the door. Stepping outside of the stable, Ray noticed it was already getting dark. That's when he realized they had been in the stable for almost an hour. What was he going to say to his Pa about what he was doing? Hopefully he would guess and not ask.

As Ray rounded the corner of the cabin he saw the door was wide open. That wasn't like his Pa. Ray headed for the cabin door and yelled out, "Pa! Hey, Pa! Why did you leave the door open?"

Ray jumped into the doorway ready to question his Pa about letting all the heat out, but the cabin was dark, with no fire in the hearth.

"Pa, where are you? Why no fire? Where are you?" Ray called out.

He couldn't see anything in the cabin and with no answer Ray turned and stepped outside. That's when he saw Samantha riding away at a full gallop, laughing and giggling like a kid running from a candy store with a pocket full of stolen candy sticks. Ray called after her but she didn't stop. Samantha looked back only once, still laughing as she disappeared over the ridge.

Ray wracked his mind trying to figure out what was going on. His Pa was nowhere to be seen, and the girl who must be in love with him had just ridden off laughing.

A wave of desperation hit him. "Pa!"

He turned slowly back to face the darkness hanging inside the cabin door. "Pa, are you in there? Pa?" Ray moved slowly towards the door. Almost knowing what he would find, he asked the emptiness pleadingly, "Pa, please answer."

Ray entered the cabin and worked his way through the darkness. Bumping his leg into a table, he reached across it with his hand and found a match. A soft light broke the darkness of the room as soon as Ray struck the tip on the top of the table. There, lying motionless on the floor was Ray's Pa. There was no sound of breathing, he was just laying twisted on the floor like a rag doll tossed into a corner. Ray screamed in anger when he saw the large axe buried into his Pa's back. He didn't have to approach his Pa to know he was gone. The match burned his finger and he dropped it to the floor, once again dipping the room in darkness. Ray's head began to swim. He reached for the table or a chair to steady himself. Finding none and overwhelmed by grief, he collapsed on to the floor.

-CKS-

Ray wasn't sure if he would be able to bury his Pa, but knew he couldn't wait until morning to do it. While it was still dark outside he began digging a hole near the edge of the lake. He thought the spot would make a proper grave. The ground was still frozen near the surface but with bloodied hands he broke through to softer soil. The pain caused by the shovel handle seemed to help a little as he dug and thought about his Pa. How was he ever going to tell Ma? What was he going to do now? Pa had always been there, but now, because of him...

As he placed the last shovel of dirt over his Pa, the rising sun's rays sparkled off the lake. Buried where his Pa would be able to look out over the land and lake he had saved for his family. The brightness of the sun hurt Ray's eyes as he turned back to his Pa. The fingers of light reached to the base of the grave as if to carry away his spirit. It was too much; Ray broke down, knowing he had failed his Pa. If he had not been with Samantha, he could have helped him, warned him.

"Samantha!" Ray shouted with clinched fists.

Samantha had kept Ray in the stable while someone else killed his Pa. As he stared down at his Pa's grave, tears froze to his cheeks, and his agony turned to rage.

"I don't know why you didn't kill me too, but you'll sure as hell wished you had!" promised Ray.

Ray knew right then and there that he had but one goal; to take back all that was his Pa's.

Knowing the Mill crew now knew about the cabin, Ray quickly saddled up his horse, packed all the supplies onto his Pa's horse and rode out. He didn't know the land but he knew where the crew was. With their numbers the crew would not be able to hide. Ray would stay on the move, making it hard for them to find him. If he could stop the remaining three leaders then he figured the rest would go home.

A few miles from where the crew was camped he found a small meadow. It had a natural corral created by birch trees growing so close together the horses could not get out. Ray placed two downed logs across the entrance. The horses would have plenty of room to move around and access to a small overhang of fallen trees for shelter. The tree's canopy made grass accessible to the horses. Ray knew he would be sharing the shelter with them, so he placed the supplies under the overhang and released Pa's horse to roll in the corral. Remounting his horse he pulled the Winchester out of the scabbard and checked the rounds. Once the .44 in his holster had been checked as well he rode out.

The smoke from their camp told him he was close, while the smell reminded him of the faces of the four men that had accosted his Pa earlier. As it was getting dark, Ray dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, leaving the knot loose so his horse could pull free if Ray did not make it back. Waiting for full darkness he sat down on the ground and leaned up against a tree. Pulling the collar of the heavy coat up around his neck and his hat down over his eyes, he quickly fell asleep.

Sometime during a very restless sleep Ray was awakened with a start. He looked over to his mount. The horse's ears were pricked up, and Ray knew something was out there. He rose, holding the horse's snout to keep him quiet. There was the sound again. Ray could hear footsteps coming toward him through the trees. He leaned back in hopes of hiding his shape from the approaching threat and rolled slowly against the tree to try and see around its edge. It was too dark to see who it was. The silence was finally broken when one of the men spoke, "John, I ain't gonna be doin' this sittin' next to you, you go over behind those bushes and I'll go over here."

"Larry, you'd love it if I sat next to you," John answered with a laugh.

"You go to hell Calhoun!" replied Larry.

Ray stepped quickly out from behind the tree right in front of the two.

"Damn it who's that?" shrieked Larry.

"Take it easy boys, it's me, Ray."

"Hot damn, if it ain't," laughed John, "what the hell are you doin' around here?"

"What do ya mean, what am I doin' around here?" questioned Ray.

"We finally got a job workin' at the mill. They sent us up here to that lumber camp." Larry stated.

"Those guys said your Pa sold out and took you guys to California," remarked John as he pointed toward the camp. "I'm glad to see you; I couldn't believe you'd head out without telling Larry and me."

"Pa'd never leave Wisconsin. He loved it here. They killed him just a few hours ago," Ray spoke softly, still feeling the bite of death.

"Your Pa's dead? Who's the son of a bitch that killed him?" lashed out Larry.

"Look, we've all been friends as long as I can remember. You both knew Pa and the kind of man he was. He deserved better. This land was his dream and they came in the dark, stole it from him and stuck an axe in his back."

"Ray, do you know who did it?" asked John as he and Larry walked up to him to calm him down and talk more quietly.

"Yeah, it was the guys from the lumber camp, and I saw one of them for sure... Samantha Foster."

"Who's this Samantha Foster?" inquired John.

"She's Foster's daughter, you know who Foster is? Anyway Pa bought some land up here legal and honest and Foster said it was his land and Pa had no right to it. We found out a few days ago that Foster sent some men up here to cut down our lumber so Pa and I rode up here a couple days ago to protect it. Turns out all along Foster just wanted to lure Pa up here so his men could kill him. That way they could take back the land. The sons-a-bitches brought Samantha Foster along with 'em.

"You saw this girl hit your Pa with an ax?" asked Larry. "Are you bullshittin' us?"

"She might as well have," said Ray as he looked past both of them with his eyes filled with hate and anger.

"She kept me busy in the stable while the others from the camp killed Pa. She rode out laughin' right before I found Pa. When I called to her she just kept on ridin' and laughin'."

"Well that lines up with what I saw," said John. "She was the girl that had ridden up with the four big guys that called themselves the foremen of the camp. Apparently, one of the men got shot. No one would talk to us about the shooting. It all happened before we got up here. She rode off with the three while we were asking for a job. I bet that's when she was headed for your cabin."

"Well boys, do I have to ask? I sure could use your help. Neither one of you have any family around here, not really. Pa was as much of a Pa to you two as he was to me. If you help me, I'll help you. We'll split this land up and work it together. Of course you know I'm goin' after them with or without you."

"Now hold on damn you. You got no call to make it sound like we would do anythin' else but back you," snarled John.

"John's right, Ray. You talk like that again and I'll punch your face in," said Larry.

"So what are we gonna do to stop 'em?" smiled John, the wheels visibly turning in his head.

"First off, is there any one in camp that you couldn't shoot if you had to?" Ray asked.

"When we rode in this morning looking for work everyone we might have known must of already pulled out. Now I know why. They must have found out your Pa was killed or something." Drawing a breath John swore, "No Ray, there's no one there we care about."

"How many are left?"

"I figure there are the three foremen, about twenty men and maybe that Foster girl, if she came back to the camp."

"Replacements for those that left should be showin' up soon I bet," said Larry.

Ray thought for a moment. "Then we need to hit them before they have larger numbers."

"Larger numbers?" said Larry, "You consider 3 against 23 good odds? Hell we can't kill that many men."

"I don't want to kill anyone that doesn't have it comin'. Mostly I just want to scare them off if we can," said Ray.

"And if that doesn't work?" asked John

"Then we may have to open this dance up," Ray stated.

"We'll go back into camp and get our stuff, and meet up with you on the other side of the hill. We'll decide then what our next move is gonna be," said John.

"Okay. Try not to make your leavin' too obvious. Some of those guys may know that we're friends," Ray cautioned.

### Chapter 4

### Turn Around is Fair Play

Ray didn't have to wait long on the other side of the hill before the three of them were reunited and planning. Standing in the dark they went over their inventory. Each had a good rifle, a dependable side arm and plenty of ammo, thanks to the company. The boys had borrowed a few boxes of shells against what they felt the company owed them.

"Well, do we go in guns a blazin'?" asked John as he pulled his revolver from its holster.

Ray laughed pulling a stick of dynamite from his saddlebags and tapped it against the palm of his hand, "I think a little quieter approach with a big bang at the end would be better, don't ya'll agree?"

From the look on each of his partner's faces he knew they were in agreement.

"Are we going to drop that among their tents?" asked Larry.

"No. What is it they need the most to keep operatin'?" Ray asked as he looked to both of his friends. "That's where we need to hit them. And it should be somethin' that will take time to replace."

"What about the wagons, the big wheels and the sleds?" grinned John.

They all smiled. They knew the wagons were full of all of their supplies. The big wheels were crucial in moving the logs from the timber area out to the sleds, and with no sleds they weren't moving trees anywhere.

"I was thinkin' the same thing," Ray said, "but we must get them all at the same time. We won't get a second chance, and after this, they'll have guards out in force."

Lifting his saddlebags, Ray began to hand out the dynamite, leaving a few for later.

"I'll whistle when I have my charges set, you whistle back as soon as you are ready to light the fuse. Make that fuse good and long. After we light them we'll meet back here. We need to create a diversion to move the crew away from the dynamite. We don't want the powder discovered before it blows, and we don't want to send any one home in pieces, if we don't have to." Ray said firmly.

Each of them worked their way to the edge of the camp. The sleds and big wheels were to the right and were a distance away from the camp, making them easy prey. The five wagons on the other hand were in a small circle around a large cook fire.

"Since we belong in the camp, we'll take care of the wagons Ray, and you take the sleds and the big wheels," offered John.

"Okay, but be careful," Ray whispered, and they all set out.

-CKS-

The camp had six sleds used to haul logs when the roadways were icy and three big wheels used on drier ground to straddle a small pile of logs. A chain was slung around the end of a lifted log and would be hooked to the short axle between the two wheels. A team of horses was attached to pull the lumber out of the forest.

The sleds were placed three high, one on top of the other in two stacks. Ray neatly placed a couple sticks of dynamite between each sled and attached a couple of sticks to each big wheel, hoping it would be enough. He had watched dynamite being set, but had never done it himself. When he attached all the sticks to the long fuse, he moved away from his targets, knelt down, and whistled.

Ray waited for what seemed like an hour when a pair of whistles met his ears. He moved back to the wheels, lit his fuse and headed for the meeting place. John and Larry were already waiting for him when he arrived. Both were so excited Ray had to calm them down to listen to his next direction.

"You guys mount up and hold my horse ready because I'll be comin' a runnin'," Ray directed.

As they headed off into the darkness Ray cocked his rifle and grabbed a stick of dynamite. Racing to the top of the ridge he hollered to the camp, "Wake up you trespassers and light a shuck if you don't want to get blown to kingdom come!" Ray lit the stick of dynamite and tossed it into the center of the camp. He fired his rifle a few times and then figuring that ought to do it, ran down the slope and away from the camp hell bent for his horse.

The three spurred their horses into a dead run before all hell broke loose. The blasts sounded like a small war had broken out and as for Ray, he guessed in a way, it had. Even at their safe distance they were struck by the wave of the explosions.

"Son of a bitch!" exclaimed Larry.

"You said a mouth full Larry. Maybe we could have used a little less dynamite to prove our point. Now let's get the hell out of here!" Ray said.

"Aren't we gonna stick around and check out the damage we caused?" asked John.

"Every person from that camp is going to be hunting around in these woods with a vengeance. I don't think they'll be very happy, and I don't care to run into any of them. Besides, we can check out the damage tomorrow when it's light," Ray said as he started to turn his horse towards the campsite he had made up the day before.

"I'm sorry Ray, but I can't wait until tomorrow. Besides they won't be surprised to see Larry and me. We'll check it out and meet you later, okay?" asked John.

"Okay but you two be careful. You can find my camp due north of here along the river. I'll take your horses and gear with me and tie them off to a tree about a mile up the river for you. Wouldn't look good after an attack like the one the camp suffered if you guys showed up ridin' into camp on horseback," Ray cautioned.

Larry and John headed back toward the lumber camp on foot with the excitement of children on their last day of school. After they had surveyed the damages they would only have to march through the snow for a short distance to pick up their horses.

"Don't look too happy about the carnage boys, someone might get suspicious," Ray called out to them as he rode away.

Ray took the horses and rode up along the river for about a quarter of a mile where he tied off the boys' horses.

Once at his campsite, he took up a nearby position on top of a hill in a group of birch trees. There, Ray had a good field of vision of anyone approaching. Hours had passed and he was beginning to think John's plan had been a bad one when finally he saw his comrades. Ray could hear the two of them laughing and slapping each other on their backs from up on his rise. He had to laugh. What a pair to draw to. These two old friends were going to be his entire army against a huge lumber company of angry men.

"God help us," Ray thought with a smile.

Ray slid down the side of the hill and stopped just a few feet above the path. As the two rode nearly beneath him, he leaped from his position down on to the two riders and knocked them from their mounts. The two jumped from the snow covered ground swinging at ghosts. Larry and John's eyes were wide with fear, cussing a blue streak and trying desperately to free their guns out from under their thick coats. Slipping and sliding in the snow and ice Larry fell to the ground again knocking John off his feet and down a small slope burying him in deep snow bank.

Ray stood up from the ground laughing so hard at the dance before him that his sides hurt. John stood up in snow up to his knees and a pile of snow on his head and shoulders. Larry was still slipping around on the ice trying to stand.

"What the hell are you tryin' to do, get yourself shot?" yelled Larry as he spit the snow from his mouth.

"You're lucky we didn't take you for an Indian and club you over the head!" panted John as he tried to catch his breath and wipe snow off the back of his collar.

Through tears of laughter, Ray choked out, "If I was an Indian, I'd have been riding out of here with two horses and two ugly scalps."

John and Larry looked at each other and after realizing what green horns they'd been they both started laughing.

"Okay, Okay we see what you mean, but damn it Ray you should see the hole we created in that lumber company back there!" laughed John.

"Those assholes will never log another tree out of these woods!" announced Larry. "Everything is in pieces and spread out for a country mile!" Larry waved his arms in the air in celebration.

They were both talking over each other with excitement.

"You want to hear the best part? That Miss Foster..." started John,

"Yeah, tell him this part, Ray listen to this, it's the funniest thing I ever saw, tell him John," interrupted Larry.

"I'm trying to, any way she had gone to the woods to take care of some business and she was squattin' only a few feet from one of the wagons. When the wagon blew it knocked her back into her own business, but not only that, it was the chuck wagon..." started John.

"Yeah, she was covered in flour and beans. She stumbled out half dressed back into the middle of the camp, yellin' at anyone who'd listen. All she could scream was, "What... what... what happened?! Even with all the smolderin' debris the entire camp busted up laughing at her," interrupted Larry again as he filled his eyes with laughing tears.

"That's when she realized she was undressed and covered in flour, beans, and shit. She started crying and ran for her wagon, except it wasn't there no more," cried John.

"Yeah, we dun blew it up. I'm telling ya Ray you should have seen it, you would have loved it," squawked Larry, holding his stomach.

Ray smiled at the picture he envisioned but couldn't laugh; after all, she had played a big part in the death of his Pa. "Did anyone get hurt?" Ray asked.

"Cuts and bruises only, no one was killed. It was perfect," said John.

"Okay we'll cook up some grub and then break camp," Ray said.

"Why are we breakin' camp? This looks like a great spot?" said Larry

"Because, Larry, you two left a trail a blind man could follow. I figure some of those boys may not like the idea of having dynamite thrown at them and would like to pay back whoever did it in spades," explained Ray.

"I'm afraid to say you're right again Ray," said John climbing back up to where Larry and Ray were standing on the trail, "We'll have to be more careful."

"If you want to last the winter, you will," Ray said while he tried to brush some of the snow off of John's shoulders. "I hope most of those boys will leave the lumber camp now they know what they're up against. But some will stick 'cause they need the money and see an opportunity to make some extra cash."

"What do you mean extra money, Ray?" asked Larry

"Well the company isn't goin' to give up on this timber. They're gonna need men who'll not only be willin' to cut trees but look over their shoulder the entire time. The company will be buyin' axes and guns. That'll cost 'em money. Now come on, let's eat that venison stew on the fire and plan our next ambush."

But even as he said it Ray knew the company would no longer be caught by surprise.

The next attack would carry a much higher level of danger, perhaps even result in their deaths. And then like a bolt of lightning it came to him. "Boys, I've got an idea!"

"Here we go again," chuckled Larry

"We're gonna eat our stew, stuff our bed rolls, and make a nice big fire."

"But if we do that, they'll know where we are and come a running" said Larry, question marks in his eyes.

"Exactly, once it's dark we'll light up a big fire and then move up onto the ridge where we'll wait. When they attack the camp we'll have a little surprise for 'em."

"I like it, they'll think they have us and rush in" said John, understanding washing over his face.

"I hope so," said Ray. "They gotta figure they're up against a young greenhorn boy who would make a mistake like building a big fire to stay warm."

The boys started the large fire so it could be seen from some distance away, but they didn't feed the fire because they wanted it to burn down some. By the time the lumbermen arrived it would have to appear that in the shadows of the remaining fire the three boys were asleep in their bedrolls. Too much light may give away their ruse, which could cost them their lives.

-CKS-

Ray's plan didn't seem as good to him now as it did when he was warm. It was a cold dark night up on that ridge, too damn cold to spend the night sitting in a snow bank. Larry sat about twenty feet from Ray's right with John about the same distance to his left. Their spot afforded them a great view of their camp from where they sat.

Ray was shocked out of his freezing thoughts by the snap of a twig. It came from behind them, higher up on the hill. Ray sunk as low as he could into his snowdrift and saw what looked like eight figures working their way down the slope. Ray waved to John and Larry to stay down and out of sight. The figures crept within about forty feet of them as they stalked the three empty bedrolls. On the edge of the camp the eight laughing lumbermen raised their rifles. "Take this you sons a bitches!" one of the attackers yelled. With that they opened fire on the bedrolls. The firing was deafening in the stillness of the night. They had almost emptied their rifles before realizing they had just murdered a lump of dirty clothes.

"Gentlemen, nice shootin', but the targets you were lookin' for are up here!" Ray called out.

In one motion, the eight men turned and fired off a round of shots toward Ray and his party. But it was too late. They were firing into the darkness and couldn't find their targets. Ray, John and Larry opened up. The campfire behind the attackers outlined them for the boys. It only lasted a few minutes, and then the silence of the forest closed in around them.

"That's it boys, we're done." Ray said as he rose from his position.

They found the lumbermen's mounts and brought them into the camp nearer the fire.

The next morning the boys removed any ammo from the eight dead men, strapped them over their saddles and with a slap on the horse's rumps sent the invaders home.

"Time to move!" said Ray. They rode for several hours before they decided to stop and make camp. It was getting colder and the snow had started to fall. They backed the camp up against a rocky out cropping that was about sixty feet above the Fox River. There would be enough room for the three horses, riders and a warm fire. With venison cooking over the fire and hot coffee in their mugs, they decided this was a good place to wait out the storm. The cover was good, the smoke from the fire was dispersed by the over-hang, and they had a good view of any approaching riders. They sat quietly staring out across the Wisconsin landscape. The beauty of the endless forest appeared before them, with the rivers that cut against the rocky walls creating inspiring rock formations. Ray remembered the rolling line of hills near his home that were formed by the glaciers coming down from the north, so he had been told. His grandpa on the other hand told him they were the backbones of giant monsters that came after naughty little boys.

The memories of his family brought Ray's thoughts back to his Pa and his Pa's land and his stomach clinched with emotion. Ray laid awake most of the night knowing that unless he came up with another plan he was never going to get that land back. The snow had stopped falling and the night sky was brilliantly clear. He stared into the heavens and prayed for a plan. He must have nodded off near sunrise and was awakened by John's firm grip on his arm.

"What is it John?" Ray said as he sat up.

"Ray, we got company."

"There must be about ten of 'em. They're tryin' to follow our tracks. Thank God the snow covered them up," said Larry as he covered his eyes against the bright morning sun.

"Lucky for us or we would have been feedin' them breakfast this mornin'," Ray said.

"We still may be able to feed them a nice hot dish of lead and bacon," smiled John.

The riders were still about a mile out but heading in their direction. It wouldn't be long before they stumbled upon the boys' camp.

With the realization that this battle maybe endless. Ray said dispassionately, "this just isn't gonna end is it boys? I can't win this fight, can I? He has money, power, and influence. I'll bet he's already got his attorneys workin' on a way to move the ownership of the land over to the company. If we get through this one, I believe I'm gonna pay Mr. Foster a visit."

"You mean, WE'LL pay him a visit," said John and Larry in unison.

"We can wait for them to find us out and then shoot it out with them, but I don't think anything good would come of it. Foster will just keep sendin' more men," said Ray, "I've been thinkin' about what my Pa told me once: "when you're fighting against a snake you'll only make him shorter by cutting at the tail, but if you want to kill him, it's the head you have to take.'"

Larry and John looked at each other and said in unison, "Well I guess that means we're goin' home."

"Mount up boys," said Ray. "I believe we'll be doin' some visitin'."

### Chapter 5

### Going Home

There was a small path just wide enough for a single horse that headed out of the back of their hiding spot. With the horses packed, Ray, Larry, and John made their way out of the spot and down a slippery slope to the river's edge. There they broke through the thin ice on the shore, riding in the deeper portions of the stream for a while to hide their tracks. The water was still very cold but the horses didn't seem to mind as they waded down the stream. Fortunately the river's edge was shallow enough for them to travel several miles before having to leave the river. The trackers should be busy for quite some time trying to determine which way the three had gone. A few yards from the edge of the water, the boys stopped to give the horses a blow, eat some leftover cold venison from last night's cook fire and to dream of a hot cup of coffee. They didn't dare build a fire with the other riders so close. After a short time the boys headed out from the direction of the river and into the woods. At times the Birch trees had grown so close together they'd have to ride in a zigzag motion to get through, riding two miles out off course just to move forward one. Because Ray loved this country so much he knew he was really going to miss it. He realized with all the fighting and killing there was no way he could stay. Before he headed out of Wisconsin, he knew there was only one thing he had to do: make sure his Ma was safe and that no one would be bothering her.

They rode wide of any direct routes in order to avoid the lumbermen or gun hands that might be looking for them. That night the three of them huddled around a small fire to stay warm. Even though the branches would break up the smoke, they didn't dare have a larger fire and take a chance of unfriendly visitors in the night. As Ray sat wide-awake shivering from his hat to his boots, all he could think about was Bradford Foster. How he had killed his Pa over nothing more than land. And that damn daughter of his, Ray still didn't know what to do about her. He knew what he wanted to do, but no one took kindly to hitting a female. If anyone had it coming, though, it was she.

The next morning couldn't have come soon enough. They felt their bodies beginning to come back to life after some hot coffee and venison. Breaking camp Ray, Larry and John headed south for home, figuring they should be arriving late, which would be good. They knew at least a few people in the settlement would probably like to see them dead.

The sun had set, but with a full moon over head they were able to crisscross the trees until they reached the backside of Ray's parents' cabin. It had been one of the last built in the area, which placed them out on the fringe, with their backyard being the entire Northwest. The first cabins were built nearer the mill and close together for safety. As time went by and more people arrived, the cabins spread out to the north.

The three riders dismounted and headed for the back wall of the cabin. They entered through the back door into a small room where they always removed their boots and winter jackets so as not to track snow and mud into Mildred's clean house. From the small room they entered the sitting room - the main room down the center of the cabin with a big open fireplace to help cut the cold Wisconsin winters. Off the main room there were two bedrooms on the left and one larger bedroom on the back right. The kitchen sat on the right side up in the front of the cabin. Ray's Ma wanted the kitchen in the front with two windows that looked out over the settlement, so Emery had built her one on the south and one on the west corner of the cabin. Emery liked to tell everyone that she could always be found in the kitchen because she was watching out the windows for her beloved. The truth was when she wasn't visiting, cutting wood, or digging in her garden, she enjoyed sitting at the kitchen table writing. She did keep an eye open for him to return at the end of the day but mostly she sat in the kitchen because the stove in the kitchen was easier to keep warm than feeding the large fireplace. Emery and Ray found it fun to try and sneak peeks at what she was writing, but she would always run them off with a wooden spoon.

"When it's done you can read it, and not before," she would always say.

The boys tiptoed into the main room. The first thing that hit Ray was the warmth of the fireplace. It was pretty much the way it looked when his Pa and he had left, except something was different. The moonlight coming into the room cast strange shadows, and for a moment Ray felt like a small boy, afraid of the dark, but only for a moment.

As their eyes adjusted to the dark, Ray heard snoring coming from his Ma's bedroom. Touching John and Larry's shoulders to get their attention, he drew his pistol from its holster and headed for the bedroom door. Gun in his right hand and doorknob in his left, Ray twisted the knob. Pushing the door open with a smooth step, Ray quickly and quietly entering the room. Ray moved to the right. He didn't want to make himself a target in the moonlit doorway. The snoring grew much louder as he entered the room. His mother had not snored a day in her life and definitely not like this. It had to be an intruder, but why would he be sleeping in this house? He approached the figure on the bed with his gun ready. That's when his anger burst to the surface. Ray had been stepped on for the last time. He placed the business end of the barrel against the sleeper's temple. The cold steel immediately silenced the snoring.

"By God, Don't shoot mister, please don't shoot. I got kids to care for. You can take whatever you want but please don't hurt me," shuddered the man.

Ray recognized the voice right away, "Gus, Gus Hendricks, is that you?"

"Sure as hell is!" he answered.

"You got about two seconds to tell me why you're in my Ma's bed!" Ray demanded.

"Your Ma's bed? Hell boy, what are you talking about, your Ma's gone, and by the way, you and your Pa are supposed to be dead. Is your Pa with you too?"

"No, he's not with me," said Ray not wanting to admit that his Pa was dead to the likes of this vermin. "Now talk and talk quick. Where is my Ma and what are you doin' in my cabin?"

"Well those Sons-a-bitches done told everyone that you and your Pa were dead. Your Ma decided to go to a sister out in California. Nothin' else she could do with no money, no man, and no family."

"What do you mean no money; she had this cabin and the land up north."

"Not no more. Foster had his attorney prove your Pa claimed that land while he was workin' for the Company. That made the land Mr. Foster's. I think the only money she had was the money I gave her for this here place," explained Gus.

"And I'm sure you were most generous because she was a woman needing help. How much did you pay her for the cabin?" Ray asked pointedly.

"Well I don't like talkin' about my money affairs with people," mumbled Gus.

Ray pushed the barrel harder against his temple.

"Okay, Okay damn it, I gave her a hundred dollars," said Gus.

"You know this place is worth three times that," Ray shouted.

"What is it Gus, are you having a bad dream," said Mrs. Hendricks in a groggy sleep.

"Just go back to sleep, I'm just dealin' with some son's-a-bitches, that got things all wrong," said Gus.

"Yes dear," was all Mrs. Hendricks had to say as she fell back into a deep sleep.

"Now Ray, I know it might be a little under the price but a deals a deal," sneered Gus.

"Gus, a gun is a gun, which deal do you want?" Ray said, as he pulled back the hammer of his .44.

"Well by God, this just ain't fair, but, but I see your point." Gus stuttered. "Anyway, my conscience been botherin' me so, over there on the table is a hundred dollars, take it and give it to your Ma," whinnied Gus as several beads of sweat rolled down his face.

John moved over to the small table and found the money. He walked back over, handing the bills to Ray.

"Ray, I'm a gonna tell you one thing. I've worked for the company for a long time. I had to be tough to keep my job, but I always respected your Pa.," said Gus as he stared out of the corner of his eyes at the gun, "He was a hard workin' man and honest as the day is long. Most people around here pretty much figured Mr. Foster done cheated your Pa out of that land. Some day he just might have to pay for his bad dealins'."

"Maybe that day has come Gus!" finished Ray.

As the three boys began to back out of the room Ray told Gus, "Just go back to sleep now Gus, pretend we were never here. If I see you stepping out of this room, it will be the last thing you ever do."

"I ain't goin' no place," swore Gus as he felt the cold steel leave his temple.

Once outside Ray sent Larry and John to the horses, while he went around the cabin to the front door. Right on schedule Gus came stepping quietly out the front door.

"Well Gus, you just couldn't let it alone, could you," Ray whispered.

"Don't kill me; I had to warn Foster, if you kill him I'm out of a job."

"All that talk about Pa and respectin' him only goes as far as your wallet, doesn't it Gus?"

"Well, byyyy God! I got two little ones sleepin' in that back bedroom and a missus to think about."

"Turn around Gus," Ray demanded. Gus turned white in the moonlight. "Now I know you ain't no back shooter," said Gus, his voice tinged with both fear and hope.

"Lucky for you, you're right. Not that you haven't earned it," Ray said as he laid his colt across the back of Gus's head. Gus dropped like a rag doll onto the porch. "I guess you can snore on the cold porch as well as in that warm bed."

Ray walked around to the back of the cabin and joined Larry and John. Climbing into the saddle he told them, "Let's go visit the Fosters."

Weaving their way across the settlement without being seen, they tied their horses loosely to the small white picket fence that surrounded the two-story mansion. Foster made a lot of money and he liked to show it off. He had the very best shipped in from as far-away as New York and Chicago and it was the only building in the settlement that had a coat of paint on it.

It was late but there was still a light on in the house. The boys started up the row of steps that lead to the porch. At the front door Ray told the guys to move to the corners of the porch and wait for him outside. If all of them entered together it might frighten the occupants into making a play. Once his partners were hidden in the shadows of the porch, Ray knocked on the front door. There was no answer so he knocked harder. Ray stopped knocking when he heard footsteps approaching the door from inside. The door cracked open only enough for a partial face to appear.

"Who are you and what are you doing here after the proper time to call?" asked the voice.

"Tell your boss he has company!" Ray said gruffly.

"Mr. Foster has retired for the evening. Come back in the morning if you want to see him."

"Will this shit never end," cussed Ray as he pushed the door open and knocked the little man back onto the floor. "Where the hell is he or do I have to tear this place apart lookin' for him?"

"Sir, you must leave, the family has retired," said the small man as he picked himself up from the floor.

"I'll leave once I've talked to Foster," then at the top of his lungs Ray began calling out, "FOSTER! FOSTER! I want to talk to you, right now!"

The small man grabbed Ray's arm with the look of fear in his eyes, "Please sir, Mr. Foster is a very dangerous man, please don't anger him."

"He's right boy, you shouldn't bring me to anger," came a voice from the doorway just to the right behind of Ray. "Now turn around nice and slow."

As Ray turned around he found himself looking down the barrel of a loaded .44 with large hands gripping the ivory handle. A tall wide man that seemed to fill the doorway was holding the gun. He was dressed as if he was going out to a big city play.

"Phillip, you may leave us now. This boy will not be causin' any more trouble."

The small man sprinted from the hall before Foster had finished speaking.

"Well, if this isn't the brat I been lookin' for. You've cost me money boy and a lot of lost time. I'd be in my rights if I shot you right where you stand."

"Go ahead Pa! Shoot him!" burst an excited voice from behind Ray.

Ray turned slightly to look over his shoulder. Standing at the top of the stairs with a bright lantern behind her stood Samantha. She was only wearing a thin nightgown, which was transparent due to the glow of light behind her. This evil girl had helped murder his Pa and amazingly Ray still found her mesmerizing. After taking all her figure in Ray felt her cold eyes digging into him like daggers. They contained a bitter hatred combined with a sick sort of excitement at what might happen to him next. She had the look of someone that took a lot of pleasure from the pain and suffering of others.

"Shoot the son-of-a-bitch right between the eyes Pa! Better yet, let me shoot him!" Samantha said with that same sick smile Ray had seen when she rode away from Crystal Lake.

"You go back to bed, my dear, and remember what I told you, a lady doesn't talk or act like that," her Pa said indulgently, ignoring the level of insanity his daughter was exhibiting.

Ignoring her Pa, she walked all the way down the stairs coming to a stop directly in front of Ray.

He was dumb founded, frozen; this girl confused him to no end. Ray had never known anyone who thought or acted like she did. Looking him directly in the eyes and with a small smile she told Ray, "Good bye little boy."

"Samantha! I said go upstairs!" yelled her Pa as he took his eyes off of Ray and grabbed her arm with his left hand pushing her towards the stairs.

When Ray saw the gun in Foster's right hand moved off target he took the opportunity to pull his Colt from its holster and brought it down hard onto Foster's right wrist. Foster dropped his gun with a groan of pain and without hesitation he dove for the spinning gun near his feet. As he dove past Ray, Ray raised his knee hard into Foster's face flattening his nose with a crack. Foster slumped down and rolled over against the wall. Blood was running down his face and through his fingers, which were cupped around his nose. He shook his head a few times to push out the cob webs and came off the floor with fists that looked like sledge hammers.

"You bastard! I'll kill you for that!"

"No, Mr. Foster, tonight, I'm not the one who is going to die."

Foster's eyes suddenly registered that Ray had the drop on him and that he was about to die. "Boy, look you don't want to do this, you can have anything you want."

With a quiet steady voice, Ray said. "I want my Pa back."

Foster, beginning to panic said, "It was not my doing, I didn't want him dead. I just wanted him out of the way. Maybe hurt a little so he wouldn't bother the lumberin'. I would have paid him a fair price for the land once the cutting began."

Ray looked down at the gun Foster had dropped at his feet and kicked it across the floor to the blubbering giant. What once was a man that Ray had feared was now someone who repulsed him.

"Pick it up."

"You'll shoot me if I try."

"I'm going to shoot you either way, your choice."

Foster bent over at the waist like he was going to be sick. He looked at the gun and then to his daughter. She came off the stair case steps and tried to grab Ray's gun hand. Foster took the opportunity and dove for the gun on the floor. In the tussle Samantha stepped between her Pa and Ray as she fought to get the gun out of Ray's hand. As Foster sat up he leveled his gun to fire. Ray ripped his gun hand free just as he heard Foster's gun go off. The girl was flung to the left as if pulled by a rope. Foster fired again but the slug went straight into the floorboards in front of him. He sat with a curious look on his face, trying to raise his arm to fire again but couldn't lift the gun. He dropped over onto his back and looked up at the smoking barrel in Ray's hand. Setting the gun down he lifted himself up onto his hands and knees and then fell over onto his side. He was dead before he hit the floor.

John and Larry came busting in through the front door with their guns drawn. Looking around they saw Bradford Foster lying dead on the floor with his daughter cussing in pain as she rolled around on the front door carpet.

"Let's get out of here!" yelled Larry.

Ray holster his gun looking at John and Larry and then back to the girl and said, "We have to take her to Doc Myers. She could bleed to death!"

"She deserves it; listen to the mouth on that girl, but... I guess you're right. Grab her up and let's get!" said Larry as he headed out the door.

Ray leaned over the small figure wreathing on the floor and started to pick her up. That's when she began to attack Ray, going after him like a wild animal.

"Keep your hands off me, you killed my Pa, you murdered him!" Samantha shrieked as she dug her nails into Ray's face.

Knowing she needed a doctor and they needed to get the hell out of there, Ray placed a solid blow to her jaw with his closed fist. In a small, primitive way it felt satisfying when she crumpled like a cloth doll. He lifted her up and carried her in his arms out to his horse.

Part of Ray wanted to leave her out on the front lawn, but he couldn't because he knew there was still hope for his soul. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer like the girl he was holding.

Doc Myers' cabin was right next to what used to be Ray's parent's cabin. The Doc had lived alone ever since he came to Wisconsin from the east. Nobody knew much about him but they were all happy to have him in the settlement. He had always been a very close friend to Ray's family.

With the girl in his arms Ray knocked on the door and pushed on in. "Doc! It's Ray! I have someone who needs your help!"

The doctor entered the room, pulling his burgundy robe tightly around him, "Ray! Ray, they said you were dead, you and your Pa. Where's Emery, is he alive too?"

"Pa didn't make it, Doc. They killed him."

"Well I'm sorry to hear that son; your Pa was a good man and a dear friend. I'll miss him. Now, I guess you had somethin' to do with all the trouble goin' on up north with those timber cutters?"

"Maybe, Doc."

"Well it would be hard to blame you if you had killed the whole lot of them. But be careful son, those are some dangerous men."

"Where's Ma, Doc?"

"You know your mother was never the type to run from trouble, but they told her you and your Pa was gone. She told me the only family she had left was a sister out in California so she headed west. You may be able to catch up to her. Riding alone she'll need to join a wagon train. Those trains move mighty slow."

The doctor's spectacled eyes turned toward Samantha's lifeless figure. "Now what do we have here?"

Ray laid the girl down onto the Doc's makeshift examining table in the side room.

"Hey, that's the Foster girl. You didn't shoot her... did you son?"

"No sir, her Pa was tryin' to shoot me when she stepped between us to grab my gun. I went to confront him and he turned it into gunplay."

"Well he'll still blame you for his daughter getting shot. You better head out and soon!"

"He won't be blamin' anyone, Doc."

Doc Meyers looked up from the girl into Ray's face, "Well, I can't say I'm sorry he's dead. But I wish someone other than you would have done it."

As the Doctor placed a rag filled with a strong smelling chemical over the girl's mouth and nose for a few seconds he looked at Ray, "You have to get out of here. These people will lynch you. Even though they were afraid of Foster, hated him in fact, most were still dependent on him to run this settlement and bring in the money. And this girl, she'll tell everyone you killed him in cold blood. Ride boy, ride and don't ever look back."

"Thanks Doc, thanks for always bein' there for my family," said Ray as he reached for the door he turned back. "Will she be okay?"

"She'll be okay, but it looks like she took a pretty hard hit on the jaw," smiled Doc.

"Anesthetic Doc, it was the only way I could get her here. I don't think you'll need that smelly stuff on that cloth to keep her out," Ray smiled back. "I'll write you from the trail, and let you know how we're doing."

"I'd like that son. You got any money?" Doc said kindly.

"I'm okay, thanks again Doc. Oh, you might want to go next door in an hour or so and make sure Gus gets inside. I'd hate to think he'd lost some fingers on my account. I'll be seein' you." With that Ray stepped out onto the front porch and into the brisk night air. He found Larry and John still sitting in their saddles when he stepped off the porch. Larry handed Ray the reins to his horse.

"Where we headed?" John asked.

"We?" Ray was surprised.

"Gus saw our faces at your cabin, I'll bet by now those crewmen have figured out the two new hires are no longer around. I'd say the trouble you're in is the same trouble we're in."

"What about your life here boys?" Ray asked quietly.

"Ray, your family was our life. Larry and I have no real families here, you said as much yourself. The families that took us in are more than ready to see us go," explained John.

"We'll always appreciate what they did for us, but its time go," agreed Larry.

"Well boys then I guess we have a long ride ahead of us. How does California sound to you?"

"California sounds alright to me," answered Larry.

"I got no problem with it," said John.

"Well then we might as well get started," Ray said as he swung up into the saddle.

"I always wanted to see California," smiled Larry, with a gleam in his eye.

"Hell, you never heard of California before tonight," laughed John as he swung his horse out into the path.

### Chapter 6

### Larry's Family

The three boys trotted their horses quietly through the settlement stopping at John and Larry's cabins to say goodbye and to give thanks. Their adopted parents hugged them wishing them well and Godspeed. It wasn't what you'd call a real family moment so much as it was familiar faces saying goodbye and being polite. The boys mounted up and headed down towards the trail. Once on the outskirt they turned their mounts' noses to the south and brought them to a gallop. It was a well-maintained trail and they knew it well enough to run the horses in the light of the moon. They hoped they could get far enough away from the settlement before Foster's body was found. Ray figured it would take several days for the crew on Emery's land to realize their boss was dead and that no one was around to pay them. By the time they deserted the site and got back to the settlement, the boys would be long gone or at least enough of an inconvenient hanging, that nobody would follow. Most of the lumbermen would forget about the boy; their greatest concern would be the future of the mill. Since it was all about the money and nothing personal, the muscle should just move on.

After a few miles of distance were established Ray turned to his partners.

"We better stop and give the horses a rest. There's a stream over there and we can pull up behind those large rocks where no one will be able to see us. Besides I'm getting' hungry."

"You're hungry?" said Larry, in more disbelief. "I've been eatin' chunks out of the back of this horse for the last five miles."

"Larry," laughed John, "your horse barely puts up with you riding on her back, let alone lettin' you take bites out of her. There may come a time when she turns and eats you."

"Now John, You know that Princess is the nicest, most easy goin' horse you ever come in contact with," Larry said.

"Princess? Who in hell calls his horse, Princess?" Ray quizzed.

And again they all began to laugh, Larry, slow to start, but he joined in. It felt good after several days of hardship to laugh and laugh hard. Larry even had tears running down his face.

They dismounted their horses behind the rocks and led them to the water, careful to gauge how much they drank. If they had too much water they wouldn't be able to ride out in a hurry if need be. After drinking, the boys removed their saddles picketing them in the tall grass to graze and roll.

Trying to relax a little, they sat with their backs up against the rocks and ate the last of the venison and drank from the cool stream.

"John, I know you lost your parents comin' out from New York, but Larry, you've never told us how you came to be an orphan?" Ray inquired.

"I don't like talkin' about it much that's why I never brought it up, but, well, when I was about ten, my parents and me and my two brothers moved out west from Virginia," started Larry, slowly.

"Why did you leave the South Larry?" asked John

"The war. Pa had lost everythin' and he didn't want any part of the war in the first place. He and Ma didn't believe that Americans should be fightin' Americans. He was afraid the South would take us boys away to fight. So he packed us all up and we slipped out. He figured going clear out to Texas would keep us clear of the fightin'."

"So you been on a wagon train?" interrupted John.

"Yeah, it wasn't that big a deal, there were several wagons headin' out every few days," answered Larry, a little annoyed by the interruptions.

"I didn't know you had any brothers Larry," Ray said, a question in his voice.

"Yeah, Tim and David, they were both some older than me. I didn't spend much time with David but Tim and I used to do a lot of stuff together. We had this old creek down behind the cabin that we'd go fishin' and swimmin' in. Tim always caught more fish than me. David stayed around Pa more. Well we pulled up stakes and left the south for Texas. We made it too. We settled into a small farmhouse that had been left by the previous owner, started puttin' in fields, buildin' fences. I remember that as the best time of my life. We built up a place that we were all proud of." Larry stopped talking and stared at a small rock on the ground. In his mind he was reliving those days in Texas.

"Larry, if you don't want to talk about this just say so," said Ray, softly.

Wiping away a small tear that he was surprised to find in the corner of his eye, Larry continued. "They came early in the day... they told Pa they were authorized by the Confederacy to take the two older boys to serve. There were about eight or nine of them on horseback. Pa stood his ground though, tellin' them he didn't agree with the war and no one was gonna force his sons to fight. They threatened him but he didn't back down. Well, we thought that was the end of it, but about three nights later I woke up to a loud bang and my Ma's screaming. I jumped out of bed and ran out the front door onto the porch. My brothers were right behind me. Lying stretched out in the front of the house was my Pa. My Ma stood in the doorway crying. The men from the other day were sittin' their saddles all around him. As I started to call out, one of the men placed another round into the back of Pa's head. I saw his head bounce...my oldest brother, David, turned and ran back into the house, and got a rifle. Tim and me grabbed Ma and jumped from the porch just as David opened up on the eight men. He placed two rounds into the man that shot Pa. The force of the bullets knocked him off the back of his mount; he was dead before he left his saddle. The others returned my brother's fire. He was hit by so much lead that it almost lifted him off the ground. Tim ran for the fallen rifle but was hit in the leg and couldn't get up. Ma ran back to where David was lying on the porch and fell beside him weeping.

"I guess I was in shock or somethin', cause' I just stood up, walked past Tim and retrieved the rifle. I chambered a round and began walkin' towards the riders. I heard one of them tell me to put the gun down. They looked at me as if I was a little kid and I guess I was one, right up until they killed my Pa and brother. They were less than twenty feet away, just starin' at me. From the hip I shot two of them out of their saddles before I felt a bolt of lightning strike my head. I could feel myself fallin' and everything went black. I must have been out cold for some time. When I woke up I found myself layin' face down in the dirt." John and Ray sat motionless with their mouths half open in shock, trying to hold back tears for their friend.

"My face was turned to the side and every-time I breathed, the dust would blow away from me in a puff," Larry continued, "Then I remembered why I was layin' there and what had happened. I rolled over slowly onto my back. My head was pounding like a sledgehammer hit me. I got up onto my elbows and looked around. There was no one, not even the bodies of David and Pa. All was quiet and calm. I thought at first maybe I hit my head and dreamt the whole thing up. I rose slowly to my feet and began to walk towards the front porch. There in the door way was a pool of dried blood, my brother's blood. I could tell that David's body had been drug away towards the barn. Figurin' Ma and Tim must a moved Pa and David I followed the tracks to the entrance of the barn. From there I could see them. I...."

"Jesus, Larry, what happened to 'em?" Ray asked, scared of what the answer might be.

"They had hung Pa and David up, already dead, and they also hung up Tim. There was a paper stuck to Pa that said "Traitor to the Confederacy" on it. I couldn't look any more. I took out my pocketknife and cut 'em down. I heard the bodies hit the ground and I ran out of there. I headed for the house calling for Ma. I called several times but got no answer. I busted through the open door and there was no one around. I headed for my parent's room. I thought maybe Ma was there thinking we were all dead. I knocked on the door, callin' out to Ma. I heard some moving around so I pushed the door slowly open. My mother was stripped down naked and tied to the bed. Her face was badly beaten. I guess they had taken her and then left her for dead. I covered her with a blanket and then cut her ropes. She just stared at the ceiling... she never moved... she just stared. I cleaned up her face and got her under the covers. Once she fell off to sleep I went outside and dug three graves. It was when I was throwin' the last shovel full of dirt on Pa's grave I heard the rifle shot from inside the house. I was old enough to know what that shot meant. The next day before I rode out I burned that farm to the ground. None of that filth was gonna move in after I left. All that was behind me was the four graves up on the side of the hill.

I joined up with the Snyder family out on the trail. They were leaving Texas and asked if I wanted to tag along."

"So the Snyders brought you to Wisconsin?" asked John, his voice reduced to a reverent whisper.

"Yup, and now it looks like I'm heading west again."

"Larry I don't know what to say. You sure turned out okay after all that. Hell I probably would have gone crazy or somethin'. Life sure can be one great big piece of shit sometimes," Ray exclaimed, not really knowing what to say to all he had heard.

"What do you say we get to movin'? I've had enough rememberin' the good old days," Larry said sardonically as he got up and walked out towards the horses.

Once Larry was out of earshot John looked at Ray, "Holy shit Ray, did you have any idea that happened to Larry's family?"

"Hell no and I suggest we don't ever bring it up again," Picking up the small rock that Larry had been staring at and tossing it into the creek, "Lets' ride damn it."

They rode for several days and never saw any pursuit on their back trail, puzzled as to why the marshal wasn't coming down out of the woods after them. The only man with enough money to keep that place going was dead by Ray's hands and his daughter had been hit in the face and shot.

"I don't get it?" said Larry "where's all the pursuit?"

"I don't know Larry," Ray answered, "I expected that girl to wake up screaming for blood."

"Maybe she can't wake up," questioned John with a scared look on his face.

"Oh bull shit," cussed Ray, "It was only a small rap on the jaw. She would have been awake within an hour of us pullin' out and the gunshot wound was only to her shoulder."

"Well I guess we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth," said John. "Let's just keep ridin' before someone decides we should be hunted down."

"Where we headed anyway?" asked John.

"I heard tell that most of the wagon trains start somewhere down around Missouri, if they don't we should still be able to sign on to one travelin' through," Ray guessed.

-CKS-

"Missy, Missy, you're at the doctors. I bandaged up your shoulder. It was only a flesh wound, nothin' too serious as long as you keep it clean. If you want to you can stay here until you feel better," explained Doc Meyers to the Foster girl lying on the bed in his office.

Samantha rose up from the bed and with a look of defiance told the Doc, "I do not want to remain here. I need to go home. I have things to attend to."

"Miss, I know about your Pa. I am so sorry, but how old are you, seventeen, or maybe eighteen?" Doc asked with a tone of concern in his voice.

"I am seventeen, Doctor," she said as she buttoned her blouse and prepared to leave.

"Do you have family back east that you can go and live with? It was just you and your Pa out here. I could try and contact a member of your family for you if you'd like," offered Doc.

Placing her feet on the floor and heading for the front door, Samantha replied with little fluctuation in her voice. "What on earth are you talking about? I have a mill to run, timber to cut, and the tracking down of the three who murdered my Pa." The doctor was left standing there with his mouth dropped open all the way to the floor.

At the door she turned ever so slightly and looked over her shoulder to the doctor, "Did those murderers bring me here?"

"Yes they did and they are not murderers. From what I heard, your Pa drew on

Ray first," defended Doc

"That is a bold faced lie. I was there I should know. Did they say where they were headed? I'd love to thank them," she said in thick sarcasm.

"They said they were headed for Canada," lied Doc.

"Since you and the trash that caused me all this pain are so close, I'm sure they will want to pay my bill." With that she left the room.

As she walked across the Doc's yard she thought how easily he had given up their direction. Standing in front of Cooper's cabin, Samantha knocked on the door. Only a small crack opened in the door. It was just enough for a gun barrel to push through.

"Who's there and what in hell do you want? If that's you Ray I got no more money to give you, you get gone, on to California, if you know what's good for ya." came the voice from inside the cabin.

"To California huh? So that's where they're going?" asked Samantha.

"Why Miss Foster, I didn't know it was you, I thought it was someone else." explained Gus.

"I know, you thought it was Ray Cooper at your door. Now answer me quick, where in California?" Samantha Foster demanded.

Now Gus was a natural born coward and types like him did not have many friends, but he was the type to try and stay clear of other people's affairs. He knew he'd stay alive a lot longer that way.

"I don't rightly know, Miss Foster, they just said California," shied Gus.

She could tell he knew more, "Gus, there could be a little extra money in your pay if you can be more specific."

"Well by God, I don't know for sure," he said as he stepped out onto the porch in his long johns and scratching his chin." Those three sons-a-bitches are probably headed for the southern part of California. The Mrs. has a sister out there, I heard tell."

Without another word she turned her back to Gus and marched off the porch. Gus's eyes followed the curve of the nightgown as she marched away. "Shit, look at the swing in that gate, but I'm sure glad I'm not the one that little bobcat is after," Gus licked his lips and called after her. "You won't forget about that little extra cash in..."Gus's voice trailed away as he realized Samantha had already dismissed him from her thoughts.

### Chapter 7

### Missouri

"There they are boys, Wagon's west," yelled Ray from the top of the ridge.

The other two rode up alongside him, "by God you were right Ray," laughed Larry.

"Now we see if they'll let us tag along all the way to California," said John.

"Well, since none of us know how to get to California, and the odds of us three against the entire Indian population ain't great we either join 'em or follow 'em real close," smiled Ray.

"You think your Ma is on that train?" asked Larry.

"Only one way to find out," said Ray as he nudged Horse on down the hill.

The boys rode into town stopping at a wagon being filled with supplies.

"Are you a part of that train headed west?" asked Ray.

"Sure am," answered the old timer.

"When does it start pullin' out?" asked John.

"Couple days, more wagons are comin' so we're awaitin' for em," said the old timer as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a soiled bandana.

"Do you know who we might talk to about joinin' the wagons?" asked Ray

"Sure do, sure do, it's that big fella standin' over there by the livery stable," he pointed.

"Much obliged," said Ray as he turned his mount and rode over to meet the man he hoped would give them a chance to reach California.

"Are you in charge of that wagon train, sir?"

"I'm the wagon master, what can I do for ya?" answered the big man.

"Well the three of us need to get to California and well, we were hopin' we could tag along with you?" asked Ray.

"Free country, plus we may need your guns before we reach Sacramento," said the wagon master. "You boys want to earn some money on this trip? I could us some hands to drive a couple wagons and move the remuda."

"Yes sir!" jumped Larry. "We sure would."

"My name's Quincy Woods and I like that boy's enthusiasm," he smiled.

"That's Larry Salinas; this here is John Calhoun, and I'm Ray Cooper. We're down from Wisconsin," introduced Ray.

"First thing to learn on the trail boys is we're all from some place, but generally it's a good idea not to ask anyone where they're from or tell everyone where you're from," quipped Quincy.

The wagon master was not a small man by any stretch of the imagination. Matter of a fact, around the waist he made up at least two of Ray. The surprising thing was that given all the weight, he was still rather light of foot. He also had a personality that you warmed up to right away.

"Gentlemen," Quincy called them gentlemen, and Ray liked it. "Meet me on the edge of town at sun rise tomorrow to join up with the train. Wagons are already meetin' out there now."

Larry looked up and down the main street, "which edge of town?"

They all turned and looked at Larry to try and see if he was serious. And then it hit him, "Shit, I know, the west side."

They all laughed when Quincy remarked, "I think we had all better keep an eye on this boy or else he may end up in New York instead of California."

That night the boys headed for the first saloon they could find. When they pushed through the bat wing doors, it was like entering another world. They'd never been in a saloon before but had heard all about them from the lumberjacks that frequented them. Ray and the boys really didn't know what to do after they entered. They stood in the doorway and just took it all in. Ray thought his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. Seeing them standing there like three sore thumbs, the barkeeper took pity on them. With a wink to the group of saloon girls in the corner he invited Ray, John and Larry up to the bar. "What'll it be, boys?" he asked.

Looking boyishly at one another, Larry tried to answer in the deepest voice he could muster up, "Whiskey," and slammed his hand down on the bar for emphasis.

The barkeep placed three shot glasses on the bar in front of them, filling them to the top. Using both their hands to try and keep from spilling, they each raised their glasses to their lips, looked at each other over the top of their glasses and took a sip. John sipped too much for his first time and began to cough uncontrollably, bending over as if someone had hit him in the gut. By this time every set of eyes in the Saloon were on them.

Someone yelled out in a thick accent, "Jack, what are you tryin' to do, kill the little pups? Better save that whiskey for men and send them pups home for milk," which sent everyone in the bar into a-hootin', and a-hollerin' at their expense. With a beet red face, John was finally able to stop coughing and rose up, looking around. "Who the hell said that?" demanded John, "I'll whip the man that said that!"

The room fell silent. All you could hear was a low rumble as a man slowly rose to his feet at the back of the room. The giant supported a thick black beard that matched his full head of wild hair. John was sure he had to be the largest, widest, tree trunk of a man he'd ever seen. The man moved through the scattered tables like a locomotive moving through a deep pile of snow. John figured he had to be well over six feet tall, close to three hundred pounds, and with fists that looked like two enormous anvils. Stopping inches from John, who was now in the man's shadow, he looked down into John's sweating face.

"I said it boy. Do ya still think you can whip me?" growled the giant.

John swallowed hard, looking up at the angry man, "Are you gonna apologize?"

He looked down over his beard and chest to the teenage boy in front of him. Then with a rumble the man began to laugh so deep that the glasses on the bar began to shake.

"Well, I guess, you're not," said John as he turned his head slightly towards Ray and Larry with a look of final farewell.

As John turned back towards the giant, he reared back his right fist and brought it up across the man's face as Ray and Larry yelled "NO!" John had to hop a little in order to connect with the giant's jaw. John felt certain that he saw the man's face move, a little. His hopes were up, until he saw that the man was still just smiling down at him.

Even though Ray knew that first swing was a mistake, John was in it now, and Ray wanted to give support to his partner, so in all the excitement Ray yelled "hit him again John! I think you shook him!"

John swung again and this time hit the left side of the smiling giant, again making his head move oh-so slightly. John took a couple of steps back to observe the damage he had inflicted. There wasn't as much as a red mark on the man's face.

"Boy, you either got guts or you're dumb as a post, but I'm givin' you credit for guts," spoke the giant gently. "So I apologize for making a joke at your expense. However, you do need to learn to pick your fights better." With that said, the giant's fist came swinging up and over his head and down on top of John's, crumbling him like an opened bag of potatoes onto the floor.

The Giant stretched out his open hand to Larry and Ray, with John still lying on the floor. "Boys, I hope there ain't no hard feelins."

In all of their humility and of course fear they decided to forgive him.

"Don't you worry mister, we never hold grudges," said Larry as he took the man's large hand in his and shook it hard.

"Let me buy you three a drink, I feel I owe you that much," smiled the giant.

"Why thank you mister, but I don't think John's gonna be doing any drinking for a while," Ray said as he looked down at John on the floor who was sleeping like a baby.

"Oh don't worry about him, he'll be ok," said the giant.

He reached down and, taking John under the arms, lifted him to his feet like a feather. He shook him a little to awaken him, and then leaned him up against the bar.

"There you go little fella'," he said as he wiped some dirt off of John's shirt, "My names Richard Krause."

"My names Ray, this here is Larry and our swayin' partner John you already met."

"Sorry John, about your head. I hope I didn't hurt you too much," apologized Richard.

"Fur...for... forget it," said John as he rubbed the top of his head, "what did you hit me with, an axe handle?"

Richard rose up one hand and looking at it said, "I just tapped you with this."

"Please don't take no offense but you talk kind of funny Richard. You're not from around here are you?" Ray asked.

"No, I came over from Germany to find my fortune," said Richard with a smile.

"Well since you're buyin'," Ray said. "Why don't you join us Richard. Make room boys."

A few hours later found all four of them sitting around a table in the corner of the saloon. It was starting to get well on into the evening when Larry spoke what they all were thinking: "any ideas where we're gonna to sleep tonight?"

"Well I guess under the stars like we've been doin'," Ray answered.

"I sleep in my wagon tonight," said Richard, "and tomorrow I head for California."

"Well I'll be damned, did you hear that John?" John was still rubbing his head. "Richard is goin' to California, sounds like he'll be with us all the way there." John chuckled. He looked at Ray and then over to Richard and with a forced smile mumbled, "Well Ray, it sounds like we're going to be just one big happy family."

They all started laughing, except for John.

They ordered another round of drinks. Not being used to the stuff Ray began to feel it. Through the slight fog in his eyes he spotted the young woman in a pretty white blouse and noticeably short red skirt. If Ray looked close he could almost see a bare knee. He was embarrassed when he realized she was looking right at him but with a smile on her face. Ray looked behind him to see if maybe she was looking at someone else, but there was only a wall behind him.

With a prodding from the barkeep, she rose and walked across the room, heading straight for Ray. She stepped between Ray and the table he was sitting at, and then she turned and sat right down on his lap. She swung her arm around his neck and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She pulled back long enough to sink her eyes deep into his head and then whispered an invitation to go up stairs. It wasn't that Ray yelled out "hell yes!" so much as it was more the stuttering and slurred garbled speech that let her know he was more than interested. She rose from his lap, took his hand, and led him across the saloon to the bottom of the stairs. As they walked up those stairs Ray could swear steps were being added as he walked. It felt like they would never make it to the top. Once at her destination, she opened the door and walked in. Ray followed past the doorway and into the room. The space was simple. There was the bed, which appeared to have suffered heavy use, and a dresser with a lamp and washbasin on it.

As he turned to face the girl he met downstairs he was looking at a different person. This girl was not carrying the same self-confidence or wild look in her eyes he had seen before.

"What's wrong, did you lose somethin'?" Ray asked, feeling that this was not going the way he thought it would. Of course he had no idea how something like this was supposed to go, either.

"I don't think I can do this," she said as tears began to well up in her eyes. "I've never done this before."

"You mean you never slept with a man before or never with one from Wisconsin?" Ray hoped the latter.

"No, I had a husband. We were heading west when he died. I needed money and in a town like this there is little else for a woman to do."

"Well why not just sit down there and get the men to buy drinks? That should be enough for the saloon to be happy."

"No, Mr. Rip owns the place - he's my boss, and he wants us servicing the men. He says, happy men hang around and buy more drinks."

She began to unbutton her blouse "Well I guess we should get started. Sally tells me the more you do it the easier it gets."

Ray stared at the top two open buttons and then with a depression that went through him like a tidal wave he heard himself say, "Hell this ain't right. Gets easier? This isn't anything like I thought it might be either. I don't feel any better about doin' this than you do. I shouldn't be here and neither should you. This ain't any way to have to live a life. Listen, do ya have any money at all?"

"I only have about twenty dollars left."

"That'll be more than enough for now. Is there another way out of here?"

"Sure, there is a set of stairs at the end of the hall that leads down to the alleyway."

"How long will it take you to get changed and packed?"

"I never really unpacked. I guess about five to ten minutes; all I have is a couple dresses and some of Carl's clothes."

"Carl, was that your husband?" asked Ray.

"Yes."

"That gives me an idea. They might spot you heading out the back, but another cowboy would probably go unnoticed. Okay here's what you do, go pack up and then put Carl's clothes on. The idea is for you to look as much like a man as you can. Do you understand?"

"I think so, but why are you doing this for me?"

"Don't worry about that right now, just get ready. I'll meet you in the hallway in ten minutes, okay?"

"Please, please watch out for Mr. Rip, he is a snake, cold and mean, and he will kill you or maybe both of us if he catches us."

"Okay, okay, get goin'; we can worry about that later."

She opened the door a crack and peeked out. Finding no one in the hallway she ran through the door and headed straight for her room. Ray stayed where he was, waiting for her to get ready. He didn't want to return to the bar too soon and raise any suspicions as to where the girl was. As far as they were concerned downstairs they were in the room doing what Ray, in his partially intoxicated state, thought would have been exciting.

After a few minutes he heard her door open and her soft footsteps going down the hall.

Just as he was about to open his door he heard a loud voice, "Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?" came a gruff voice. Ray opened the door a crack and peeked out. He saw the girl cowering in front of a nasty looking piece of work.

"Mr. Rip, well, well, I just needed some air. I thought I would take a little ride."

"A little ride you say, dressed in men's clothes carryin' a bedroll? Are you planning to earn a little extra money on your little ride? I don't think you get the idea around here. Once you're under my roof you stay there and do exactly what I tell you to do until I'm done with you, you ungrateful bitch."

"But Mr. Rip, I made a mistake thinking I could do this, I can't- I just can't."

The girl began to cry.

Mr. Rip grabbed her arm and threw her up against the wall. He began to force himself up against her. Then he froze as still as death because death is exactly what he heard click in his ear. The sound of a .44's hammer being pulled back can make a man's blood run cold.

"I believe the lady does not like your advances, sir," Ray said.

"Mister, you have no idea who you're pointing that gun at," Rip snarled.

"Oh I believe I do. Now let go of her arm, step back and walk into her room."

"If you plan to shoot me in here they'll hear the shot down stairs and come a runnin'. They'll cut you down where you stand."

"Thanks for the warnin', now shut up and move across to the room."

Ray shoved the barrel of the gun into his ribs to help him move along.

"Lay face down spread eagle on the bed." Ray ordered.

Cussing under his breath Rip climbed face down onto the bed. Ray took some rawhide thongs that he happened to have hanging off his gun belt for emergencies.

He handed a couple to the girl, "Here, tie his hands and feet to the bed posts."

"These are handy," she said as she stretched out the rawhide.

"When you're on the trail nothin' comes in handier than some strips of rawhide. Unfortunately for Mr. Rip here, I took a few out of my saddlebags earlier to tie down some supplies and tied the extras to my belt. Now, be sure and tie him tight."

With Mr. Rip tied securely face down on the bed Ray placed a gag in his mouth. For added insurance and to buy them some extra time, Ray raised his gun striking him across the back of the head. He was out and hopefully for a long time.

"We need to go, now!" Ray grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her into the empty hallway.

She turned and placed a "do not disturb" sign on the doorknob. With the smile of a girl who has found her life again they headed down the back staircase and into the night.

### Chapter 8

### Hired Guns

"You're offering a thousand dollars each for us to kill three teenagers?" asked the man dressed in black.

"No, try and pay attention," started Samantha.

The man's hand darted to the butt of his gun at the sting of the insult. Samantha could not help but notice the aggressive move and softened her tone accordingly. She was not accustomed to dealing with men of this caliber.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, lets settle down a little, let me explain. I have sent for all three of you to avenge the murder of my dear Pa. Mr. Lane, twenty known kills, and never failed on a target yet." Samantha said, leveling an adorning gaze at the man.

The man in black eased his hand from the butt of his .44, "and I won't miss this time either."

"Mr. Hoffman, you do not have a well known reputation but you come highly recommended."

"That only means I'll work harder to build that reputation," said Hoffman, buffing out his chest.

"Well, yes, I hope so. And finally, that leaves you Mr. Patch. The word I've received, and please don't let me offend you, is that you would kill your own mother if the price was right."

"Why would I be offended by that Miss? And by the way, the price was right."

The other three in the room looked at Patch to see if he was making a joke. There was no humor in his face.

"Okay, with introductions behind us let's get down to business. These three boys murdered my Pa and shot me in the process. I want them dead, all of them, and I will pay each of you five hundred dollars now and a thousand dollars to the man that kills Ray Cooper," outlined Samantha.

"What if all three of us put a bullet into Cooper?" asked Mr. Lane.

"Then I guess you will have to split the thousand dollars three ways, won't you?" answered Miss Foster with a petulant shake of her head.

Lane's hand gripped into a fist and he stepped toward Samantha having felt the insult hit him like a slap in the face. "Nobody talks to me like that, not even an uppity teenage bitch like you!"

"You hit me Mr. Lane and you will never see any of that money."

"Ignore her Lane," said Hoffman, "I don't know 'bout you but I sure could use that thousand dollars."

Lane turned slowly to stare at Hoffman. "You can forget about that thousand dollars. I already started spendin' it."

"On what?" asked Hoffman.

"Bullets," answered Lane. No one saw the gun clear leather, only the flash from the muzzle, the deafening explosion, and the smell of the burned gunpowder. Hoffman stood in shock as a large red stain began to grow on the front of his shirt. He slumped and collapsed onto the floor.

Lane began to turn towards Patch only to find Patch's hands full of six shooters. "I'm not a tin horn like Hoffman was. You go your way and I'll go mine. Best man wins," said Patch as he un-cocked his .44's and slipped them back down into their leather sleeves.

"If you gentlemen are done trying to kill each other, here is your five hundred dollars. Good hunting."

"What about the five hundred you were gonna pay Hoffman? I think you should split that between Patch and Me," said Lane.

Samantha turned and as she walked away. Over her shoulder she said, "Gentlemen, you have your money. I believe Mr. Hoffman earned his portion." And with that she was gone, leaving the two men alone.

-CKS-

Larry, John, and Richard were all sitting around the table when they realized that several hours had passed since Ray's departure.

"You boys have known Ray a long time I would guess, would you say he's that good a lover or did he fall asleep?" asked Richard.

"Well, I think he's fairly new to the enjoyments of a good woman, maybe he wanted to partake of as much as he could before he had to rejoin the trail," laughed Larry.

"He's always struck me as someone with no quit in him. I figure he was done an hour ago but because he ain't used to all that whiskey he's done passed out," said John.

"Why don't we go up and get him. I bet these sons of a bitch would charge him the night for passin' out in the room," said Larry.

The three rose from the table and headed for the stairs. A couple of the saloon girls intersected their path, "You boys want some girl company up there or is this going to be an all male party?" laughed one of the girls.

Before Richard or John could speak, Larry blurted out, "All male but thank you girls for the offer."

With mouths droppin' to the floor the girls started to slowly move back to the bar.

"Larry, do you have any idea what those girls meant by all male party?" asked John.

"Oh hell, I didn't think they meant that!" answered Larry with a red face.

"Oh well, too late now," laughed Richard as he shook his head.

At the top of the stairs the boys started opening doors looking for their friend. Surprised faces returned their glance several times before they found the room with Mr. Rip tied up. He was awake and had been trying to get free.

John looked at Larry and shook his head, "This looks like the work of your friend."

"My friend! You've known him longer than me," answered Larry.

Pulling his gun out of his holster and raising it over his head, "I swear that boy is trying to take on every powerful man in the country," said Larry as the gun came down hard on the back of Rip's head. Rip stopped trying to get free.

The two turned and headed for the door. Richard continued to stand there wondering what had just happened, and why the search for Ray had ended.

"Why did you do that? Where are we goin'?" asked Richard with a confused look on his face.

"To the wagons, the stars and my bedroll," answered Larry as he walked out into the hallway.

John spotted the staircase down to the back door and signaled the others to follow.

"No need to go out the front door. Might as well let those girls think we're havin' one hell of a party without them," said John with a sour look towards Larry.

"Why the look?" said Larry, "I thought it was the best way to be left alone so we could search for Ray."

"Oh, we'll be left alone all right. I just hope word doesn't spread to the wagon train or we'll have to prove ourselves all the way to California," John said.

-CKS-

Patch and Lane were both headed for the same place: Missouri. They knew going west was safer in numbers and they knew that's where the wagon trains come together. Neither of them expected much trouble when they reached the boys. It was simply a race against each other. The first one there would put a bullet into Cooper's head and collect a thousand dollars. The other two killings would be just frosting on the cake. Lane had decided to take it at a slower pace and stay in the saddle longer. Patch borrowed two more horses from a man that no longer would miss them. He'd died unexpectedly of lead poisoning. Patch would ride one horse hard and pull the others behind. Then when it was too tired to continue he would leave it and ride one of the others. By switching horses he hoped to be in Missouri long before Lane. Patch wanted to be done with this business before Lane rode in. But he didn't trust Lane any further than he could spit. He would also rather have Lane on his back trail rather than out in front of him waiting.

-CKS-

Larry, John and Richard were not surprised to find Ray sitting in the wagon camp. But they hadn't expected to see a woman sitting next to him, dressed for the trail.

"Well it's all comin' together now," said John as he looked from Ray to the girl. "Why is it every time you get around a pretty girl, we end up in a deeper hole?"

"Sorry boys, there was no helpin' it. This here is Laurie Martin. She lost her husband a little while back and almost lost herself in the whor...sorry.... saloon. I figured since we were all headin' to a new life, one more wouldn't matter."

"Until the saloon owner wakes up and sends someone out to retrieve her. It won't be hard for them to figure out where she went and where to look for her," said John as he leaned over the fire to grab the pot of hot coffee.

"Well, the way I see it, we lay low tonight. In the mornin' the wagons pull out and we'll be gone," surmised Ray.

"That might have been a good plan but I heard the wagon departure has been delayed another couple days," said Richard, "some more wagons are comin' in tomorrow and they'll be joinin' the train."

"Shit! Well, maybe we could ride out a ways and wait for the train to come to us," surmised Ray.

"Except that Quincy wants us to drive a couple of the wagons," said Larry.

"I guess all we can do is stay out of sight and hope for the best," said Ray.

"No, I cannot let you put yourself in danger for me," cried Laurie.

"Listen Ma'am, you can fight, cry, bite, and scratch us all you want but you're stuck with us. If you run back to the saloon we'd have to come after you and probably get shot for our trouble. There is no way we're leavin' you here to whore for that man," said Richard and added, embarrassed, "sorry about saying that word."

"In this case, Richard is speakin' for all of us," said Ray.

"Okay it's all settled, you'll hide in my wagon until we are on the trail" instructed Richard.

"Well okay, but I won't have any one getting killed over me," said Laurie.

Laurie found the wagon comfortable but cramped. It was going to be difficult staying in this confined space for very long. But being caught would be much worse. The wagon had already been placed on the edge of the group so that when nature called she could slip out and back without traveling far and before too many eyes.

The following morning at the saloon office Mr. Rip was firing off orders to a handful of his men. "I want that whore found and brought back here today. Do you understand?"

"They understand Mr. Rip. What about the man that helped her?" asked one of Rip's men.

Rising from his desk and slamming his fist on the desk, Rip thundered, "I want you to teach him a lesson he'll never forget."

The four henchmen across from Mr. Rip turned on that note and headed out the door. They had a good idea as to where to start their search. There was only one place a person would be who wanted to get out of town for good. They headed straight out to the wagon train. As they entered the grouping of schooners they spread out and began their search.

It wasn't long before their efforts paid off. One of Rip's men spotted Richard walking across the camp. Recognizing him as one that had been with Ray, the henchmen followed him. When Richard reached the outside of the wagon he stopped and was observed speaking politely with someone within the wagon. This had to be it, the henchmen thought.

He left to collect his partners, as Richard was just too big to approach on his own. Within the hour the four men were observing the wagon from a safe distance.

"We'll have to wait for that big guy to leave before we move in. I don't want to take him on if I don't have to," said the leader of the scum.

An hour or so later they observed Richard rise from a nap he had taken up against the side of his wagon. He walked around to the back and without looking into the wagon said something. He then turned and walked off in the direction of town.

"You see that boys, he's too shy to look in the wagon when he talks. That Laurie girl has got to be in there," said the skinny, tall, henchmen that smelled of alcohol and sweat.

Noticing that the wagons near Richard's were empty now as the owners were in town purchasing their last minute supplies and having a drink, the four henchmen moved forward toward their prey.

"You don't think the boss would begrudge us a little sample before we take her back do you?"

"I don't know why he would," said his partner, "she's a whore, ain't she?"

The leader looked around as they approached and said, "Listen you idiots, don't screw this up. You two go in through the front of the wagon and we'll go in from the back. I don't want her doing a bunch of yelling. Someone might hear and interrupt our fun before we finish."

They quietly climbed up the front and rear of the wagon, "Richard, is that you?" came a soft voice.

The leader stuck his head in through the opening in the tarp and with a big toothless grin said, "No Ma'am, it ain't Richard, it's Phil, will I do?" which caused Phil to start laughing. "Mr. Rip is some angry about you runnin' off. He told us to fetch you back. But first, me and the boys here, we're wantin' us a sample. You wouldn't deny us hard workin' boys a little treat would you?"

With a cruel look on his face he swung his legs over the tailgate and stepped into the wagon. Laurie was sitting on a mattress covered with a blanket on the wagon floor. Seeing Phil approach she began to crawl away from him.

"Stay away from me you filth! I'm not that kind of woman!" yelled Laurie, "I don't want to work for Mr. Rip. I'm a decent woman and I am not going back there!"

A hand that smelled and tasted like dirt and sweat dropped over her mouth and silenced her words.

"Let me introduce you to my brother, Buford. He's one of those boys hopin' you ain't gonna try and deny us what we got comin'," smiled Phil as he ripped the blanket off Laurie's body.

Buford's strong hands held Laurie down on her back with her mouth covered. Phil grabbed her kicking legs by the ankles and held them down.

"I always liked me some fight in my women," laughed Phil as he spread her legs and forced them down onto the mattress. He sat back on his feet and put his folded knees down onto her legs to keep them down. With his hands now free he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and pulled her skirt up over her waist revealing a thin garment that he grabbed and tore from her body. Since there was not enough room for Laurie and the four men in the wagon, the other two stood waiting their turn, one on the tailgate and the other in the driver's box. Both had stuck their heads through the openings at each end of the canvas to watch.

Phil and Buford both leaned back a little to take in their prize. "Look at that will ya Buford," said Phil as he filled with lust, "Ever seen anythin' more sweet?"

Laurie continued to fight and squirm but the men had her right where they wanted her and were not going to be denied. Phil licked his lips as he began to untie the rope that he used to hold up his pants.

"Damn it you two, will you hurry up, we all want some of that," pled the men hanging outside on the tailgates.

With his pants down, Phil began to lower himself down onto Laurie. With wild eyes and tears running down the sides of her face, Laurie tried to scream through the dirty hand covering her mouth. She wanted to kick and squirm but was held down too firmly.

Buford looked up to smile at his other brother Charlie who had his head sticking in through the back of the wagon and saw a shocked look cross his face and then he was gone. Nothing left but the flapping of the canvas opening. "Charlie!" yelled Buford. "Hurry up Phil, damn it, I think Charlie fell off the back of the wagon. Hey Charlie what happened to ya, did you fall off the wagon?"

"She's pulled her knees so tight I can't, damn it woman, you're making me angry!" swore Phil.

Buford heard a gasp of air from behind him and looked back over his shoulder. Clem, his other brother who had been standing in the driver's box was gone. "Shit!" whispered Buford. "Phil, you better pull up your britches in a hurry, I think we've gots trouble."

"Not until I get me some of this here whore," demanded Phil.

The ground beneath the wagon began to rock and sway as big Richard grabbed the top of the rear gate. Lifting his huge frame up, he began to climb up into the back of the already full wagon bed. He ripped aside the canvas and stepped easily into the back. Reaching down in one single movement, he grabbed Phil by his hair and an ankle. With raging fury and a call like a grizzly bear, Richard yanked Phil off of Laurie and tossed him out the back of the wagon. Phil flew ten feet from the end of the wagon and struck the ground hard. He tried to rise but being dazed and having his pants down around his ankles, he was temporarily immobilized.

Richard then turned his anger towards Buford. Buford looked into the inflamed eyes of Richard and said the wrong thing, "Take it easy Mister, she's just a whore, what's your problem?"

Buford never saw the punch coming. The blow knocked him through the canvas and into the driver's box. Laurie grabbed the blanket and covered herself as she continued to cry and watch Richard with great satisfaction.

Buford was scrambling desperately to get away, but to no avail. Richard grabbed Buford's old worn out shirt and lifted him over his head, launching him into the air. Buford flailed in the air until his back bent over the extended wagon tongue on the ground.

Panting and out of breath, Richard turned slightly towards Laurie, looking only from the corner of his eyes. He did not want to embarrass her and gently asked if she was okay.

"Thanks to you Richard," she whimpered, "I'll be fine."

"I'll go and clean up the mess outside. You stay here, I'll be right back," he said.

The canvas behind Richard's head flapped inward and Laurie heard a loud thud. Richard gave Laurie a strange, surprised look, as he fell backwards out the front of the wagon and out of sight.

"Richard!" screamed Laurie.

Laurie searched the wagon quickly and found the gun that had seemed miles away during the attack. Pulling back the curtain slowly she looked out and to her horror Richard was lying at the foot of the wagon unconscious. Blood was flowing down the front of his face; she could tell he was badly hurt. Phil was standing over Richard not five feet away from her. He was holding a large tree branch that was now cracked with blood dripping from it, and raising it above his head with the intent to bring it down hard onto Richard's head.

"This is for medaling where you don't belong, you over grown son of a bitch!" cried Phil through clinched teeth.

Without a second thought Laurie raised the gun and pointed it at Phil's face. The last thing Phil saw was the flash from that barrel. Laurie began to scream seeing the pieces of Phil's face separating from his body, as he collapsed over backwards like a tree falling in the woods.

In her concern for Richard, Laurie jumped from the back of the wagon and knelt next to him trying desperately to see how badly he was hurt. She could tell that he wasn't dead but he was surely traveling down that trail.

### Chapter 9

### Laurie and Richard

Patch made good time arriving in town where all the wagons came to meet. He decided to have himself a drink to celebrate his success before finding Cooper and putting a bullet into him. He might even wait around long enough to take care of Lane. He really didn't want to ride all the way back to Wisconsin with that cold-blooded lunatic on his back trail.

Patch left his horse at the livery stable and walked to the saloon. He was going to get a whiskey and try and find out if any one there had seen his targets. Saloons were always the best place to go to get the most recent news and information. The bartenders knew everything about everyone. Patch stepped up to the salon doors and swung them open. He was always cautious entering an unfamiliar place. You never know who might be on the other side of the door that wanted you dead. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dimmer light he strolled up to the bar and dropped his saddlebags beside him.

"Barkeep, give me a whiskey!" ordered Patch.

Giving an irritated look that changed rapidly at the sight of the tied down gun, the bartender grabbed a bottle and walked over to Patch. He then placed a small glass in front of him and filled it from the bottle.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you around these parts before, mister, just passin' through?" asked the bartender, trying to make small talk.

"Just pour, barkeep. I'm lookin' for three boys that should have ridden in here a couple days ago. Have you seen 'em?"

"Well maybe, there're a lot of new faces around because of the wagon trains formin' out west of town. But now that I think about it, there were three young boys in here last night," remembered the bartender as he scratched his unshaven chin.

"Do you know where I can find em'?"

"I would guess with the wagon train," answered the bartender as he stepped away to pour another patron a drink.

Patch raised the small glass with his left hand and downed his drink. He set the empty glass back on the bar with a slam. He picked up his saddlebags and walked out of the saloon, and headed towards the hotel. At the register he noticed the manager standing nervously behind the desk. When you lived on the prairie as long as many of these folks had, you could see death living in a man's eyes. Having said nothing while Patch registered, the manager handed him a key and averted his eyes. Patch took the key, turned, and without a word walked up the stairs to his room. He unpacked his saddlebags and checked the loads in his rifle. Satisfied, he returned to the street and headed for the wagons. He spent the better part of the day walking around the schooners. With the sun beginning to fall, Patch decided to go find a nice steak and get some sleep. He found a restaurant called Mrs. Pritchard's that looked good. Mrs. Pritchard was a two hundred and ninety pound man who had returned from the gold fields with just enough money to buy the original Mrs. Pritchard out. The food wasn't that good but it was hot and filling. Patch stepped out of Mrs. Pritchard's and onto the boardwalk. Stretching and lighting himself a cigar, he stepped off the boardwalk and headed out across the dirt main street. That's when he spotted three boys and a woman trying to lift a very large man out of the back of a wagon and into a place with a wooden sign that read, "Doctor McCoy's hanging above the door. Deciding that these young gents just might be the ones he was after, Patch approached cautiously.

"Hey, you boys mind if I give you a hand there?" asked Patch.

"Sure, never turned down any help when it's offered, especially when it's needed," replied Larry.

John was a little more cautious than Larry. The tied down gun resting low on the man's hip didn't miss his attention.

Patch moved in closer, "The name's Patch."

While lifting Richard out of the wagon Larry introduced everyone in the small group.

"I'm Larry Salinas, that ugly cowboy is John Calhoun; this is Laurie Martin and on the other end of Mr. Krause there is Ray Cooper."

As soon as Larry said his name, Patch dropped Krause and pulled iron. Everyone saw the gun rising and coming to bear down on Ray. They all went to set Richard down in order to stop Patch when there was an explosion. When the smoke cleared all eyes were on the dead body of Randy Patch lying face up with a bullet hole between his eyes. Sitting on his horse behind them was a man dressed all in black. The smoking gun was still in his hand, and it returned to its holster without ceremony.

"You better get that fella you're carryin' inside before he bleeds to death right here in the street," echoed the voice from under the black hat.

"Much obliged mister," said Larry still staring at the motionless Patch.

"Yeah, we were really lucky you came along when you did," thanked John.

"Just passin' by and thought you could use some help," he said. Touching the brim of his black hat with two fingers he nodded to Laurie and said softly, "Ma'am."

The four of them stared after him and then at the man laying face up in the street while a crowd began to gather.

Laurie slapped Larry behind the head, "Wake up, we need to get Richard into the Doctor's office and get our faces off the street."

"Ouch," cried Larry, "Why did you pick me to cuff?"

"You were the closest. Now hold up your end and let's get moving."

Richard slowly began to open his eyes and was met by a burning pain that felt like a hot poker being jammed into his head. He reached to touch his head but his hand was stopped and forced back down next to him on the bed. Richard looked to see what had stopped him. Through the veil that still covered his eyes he saw an angel.

"Am I dead?" asked Richard seriously, "Are you an angel?"

"Lands no Richard," smiled Laurie, "You're the angel, my guardian angel."

Leaning forward and taking his hand in hers she said, "If you hadn't come when you did and tore into those men...I don't know what I would have done." With that said Laurie started to cry. She lowered her face down onto Richard's large chest. Richard placed his big hand on the back of her head to try and comfort her.

Suddenly she popped up and drying the tears from her eyes, she said angrily. "You great big ox, what were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed. Then I would have had you on my conscience. Don't you ever do that again."

Laurie rose from the chair next to the side of the bed, straightened her dress and marched to the bedroom door. There she stopped for a moment, and slightly turned to look back at Richard, "You're not an ox, you're an angel," then promptly marched out of the room.

Richard stared at the empty doorway in total confusion.

"Well I can see from that dumb look on your face that you never tangled before with a woman in love," echoed a voice from the other side of the room.

Richard slowly turned his head to look at who had spoken. The movement brought another shearing pain through his head. Ray was sitting comfortably in a chair with a teasing smile across his face, pretending to be reading a newspaper.

"What the hell are you talking about, and wipe that damn smile off your face. The beautiful lady was only bein' nice to me."

"Well, well, well, okay buddy, but you won't be able to say I didn't warn you. The way she's been sittin' here holdin' your hand and wipin' your brow, I'd say you got a woman on your back trail. Once they spot their target, you're done for."

"Thanks for the warning Ray; but to have a woman like that on your back trail... well, she is a fine woman. I wonder if she really has taken a likin' to this old bear?"

"Now you're starting to scare me. Quincy wants to start pulling wagons out tomorrow. He said he would have one of us driving your team until you're up to it."

"I'm up to it," Richard said as he started to rise, but quickly had to drop back down onto the bed. "Okay. I guess I could use a little help for a day or so."

"One of us will bring the wagon by here tomorrow and pick you up. Now you should rest and I should go and find another place to hide our wagon. I'm sure Mr. Rip is still gonna want Laurie back. See you in the mornin'."

But there was no response as Richard had already fallen off into a deep slumber.

"Buddy," Ray said to his sleeping friend, "the wagon train can't move fast enough and Rip will keep sending men until he gets Laurie back. You two have a future and I aim to see that you get that chance."

Ray walked out into the parlor where Laurie was talking to the Doc. Larry and John were sitting in chairs facing the front door.

Ray looked over towards the doc, "Doc is he going to be alright? Can he be moved?"

By tomorrow he should be up to riding in the back of the wagon. He won't want to sit upright for a while. If he does he'll probably get dizzy and vomit," his eyes shot quickly to Laurie. "Sorry Ma'am," apologized the doctor. "Leave him in the wagon and in a few days he should be as good as new. You boys were lucky you picked a friend with such a hard head."

"Thanks Doc," said Ray as he shook the Doc's hand and headed for the door. Larry and John both began to rise. "Boys, you stay here and stick close to Laurie and Richard. Shoot anyone that tries to harm either one of them. I'll be back. I need to see a man about a horse."

The boys sat back down. Ray walked out into the cool night air. Turning to the left he walked down the boardwalk towards the saloon. He wasn't sure what he was going to do but he had to do something.

He stopped outside the first windows of the saloon and looked in. The room was filled with cigar smoke and the sounds of a tinny piano intersected with a woman's laughter. The place was full of drifters, farmers, and men heading west for adventure. Ray thought he might walk in and sit at a table near the back. He was afraid of losing his edge; what little edge he might have. Rip was a big man in this town and instilled a deep fear in most of the townspeople. He hoped that Rip would think Ray smart enough to stay clear of him. Either he was not that smart or he was just that damn mad. Either way, Ray was tired of Rip and his kind bullying them around. He wondered for a moment if maybe he was put on this earth to knock out all of the bullies.

Ray stepped back from the window and turned down the alley next to the saloon. Two windows were above his head but too high to be able to look in, so he dragged an empty wooden crate over and placed it under the closest window. Standing on the box he looked into a dimly lit room that sat just off to the side of the saloon's main room. Ray could hear two people enjoying each other's company.

He stepped down and dragged the crate over and under the second window. Stepping up onto the box and looking into the room, he jumped back quickly.

"Shit, I hope he didn't see me," Ray thought.

Slowly, he rose up to look again. The window was directly behind Rip's desk chair, and a man was talking to someone in the chair. Because of the high back of the chair Ray couldn't tell who it was. The tall man was getting ready to leave the room and Rip was holding the door open for him. Both men stepped through the door and walked out into the hall.

Ray pushed on the window and it slid open. Lifting himself up, he climbed through. Before stepping down into the room, he could hear footsteps coming back. Quickly he jumped behind the door, drawing his Colt and cocking back the hammer. The door swung open and Rip marched into the room slamming the door behind him. He walked around his desk and dropped hard into his chair letting out a sigh. He froze when his face turned towards the barrel of Ray's Colt that was fixed on his right eye.

"What the hell do you think...." started Rip.

Ray cut him off, "Shut up Rip. I'm here to show you just how easy it is to get close to you. When you walked in I could have thrown a cord around your neck, slid a knife into your ugly hide or just kicked the shit out of you."

"Okay, so you showed me how close you can get. What of it?"

"What of it? You still don't get it. You think you're safe and can't be touched. Well I just proved you're not. I'll get this close again if you ever try to come anywhere near Laurie again or any of my partners. You'll never know what hit you. Now get up from behind that desk and come over here. Stick your head out the door and tell the bartender you don't want to be disturbed, that you'll be workin' all night."

Rip moved to the door and started to open it. Sticking the barrel into his ribs, Ray muttered, "Remember, I would prefer you dead. Dead men don't come up on your back trail."

"Take it easy, I know what to do," said Rip. He yelled out, "Charlie! Tell everyone to stay out tonight. I got work to do and I don't want to be bothered."

"You got it Boss, whatever you say," came a response from the bar.

Rip shut the door and started to walk to the back of his desk. Ray hit him just once, hard across the back of his head, and he crumpled to the floor. Using some cord from the window curtains Ray tied Rip's hands behind his back and gagged him. He dragged Rip to the window, opened it, and lifted him out. He hit the ground outside pretty hard. Ray climbed out and closed the window behind him. Grabbing his ankles he dragged him out the backside of the alley. Behind the saloon was open ground with an outhouse about fifty yards out. It was hard work but Ray enjoyed the thought of him wakin' up where he belonged. He threw open the outhouse door and stepped in. It was a good size facility with two holes side by side. Ray kicked up the shelf where men sat, exposing the pit below. He estimated the pit to be about ten feet deep with one good foot of waste on the bottom. He dragged Rip into the facility, raised him up onto the edge of the pit and dropped him in. The soft, molten flowing floor helped break his fall. He laid there face up, sleeping like a baby. Ray replaced the shelf where it belonged. Turning to leave, a drunk approached the door of the shed.

"You done in there, mister?" he slurred. "I sure do need to get this gut relieved."

"It's all yours," Ray answered, and with a tip of his hat and a huge smile on his face he headed west.

### Chapter 10

### West

By 1841, word was spreading across America describing the wonders of the West. Many adventurous souls on the eastern portion of America and as far as Europe decided it was an opportunity to start a new life; to grasp a new chance for many that had lost all in the War Between the States. For the lawless, it was a way to avoid legal prosecution for a multitude of crimes. Confederate soldiers who felt persecuted by the North after their surrender were stripped of belongings and not allowed to carry firearms. Some were unable to wash the excitement and violence of war from their lives, and looked to the wide-open towns of the West to carry on. In the West any man willing to stand on his own two feet and fight for what he felt was right could receive respect.

Land was available in abundance and there for the taking. This wasn't just cheap worthless ground that grew nothing but weeds. It was prime real estate, grass as far as the eyes could see, land that would make a future for a man wanting a producing farm, or large areas of open ground for cattle. It was all there and waiting. On top of all this, there came the cry of "Gold!" being discovered in California. Many began to worry that this bonanza would be gobbled up by the masses that were already on the trail before they could get there. People sold their homes, farms and businesses and left families behind. They bought large Calistoga wagons and filled them with their life's possessions or what they had reduced down to their life's possessions. Some built hidden compartments into their wagons to carry the small fortunes they took with them to build that new future.

It was a rare time in American history when you had the rich and the poor, the honest and dishonest, the lovers and haters: all traveling together down the same trail to a new life.

The wagons stretched out as far as the eyes could see. Ray drove Richard's wagon with Laurie riding in the box next to him. She spent most of her time sitting backwards staring down at Richard's sleeping face. From the way Laurie looked at him Ray could tell Richard's days as a bachelor were numbered. She might as well have placed a ring in that man's nose because he was good as hers.

John was driving a wagon directly behind Richard's and Larry was driving one behind John. They kept their horses tied to the back of the wagons instead of with the remuda. You never knew when you might need a fast horse and an even quicker gun hand.

The front of the train must have been miles ahead of them and each wagon followed closely behind the other. There was safety in numbers and a straggler became easy pickings for outlaws and Indians.

As Ray stared at the back-end of the wagon ahead he began to laugh at the thought of Mr. Rip being hauled out of that shit hole. Ray reckoned it would take him several hours before he woke up and could get himself untied- Ray didn't tie him all that tight. And then several more hours to wait for a familiar face that he could trust to keep his mouth shut. The train had pulled out without any commotion, so his plan must have worked.

Ray chuckled to himself again and thought, "I guess it wouldn't be a familiar face as much as maybe... a voice."

They were now a good twenty miles out of town and he hoped that Rip would never want to see him again or have anyone in town ever get wind of what happened.

A bump in the road brought Ray back from his thoughts and sharpened his focus on the wagon ahead of him. To his left about a hundred yards out he spotted a lone man riding parallel to the train.

"Hey, Laurie, can you make out who that rider might be?"

Laurie covered her eyes from the sun and squinted in the rider's direction. "I've seen him in town before oh, I know" she said, her face clearing with recognition, "That's the man who shot that fella' who was trying to get a bead on us. We sure were lucky when he showed up."

As Ray watched him riding up on the ridge he couldn't shake a bad feeling that crawled down his spine into his belly.

"Be careful of him, Laurie," Ray warned. "I don't like the way he carries himself. He looks like a man who earns his keep by using his guns."

"How would you know what one of those men would look like? You've been lost out in the woods of Wisconsin all your life," smiled Laurie.

"Even up in those woods we had gun slicks passing through. Foster, the man that used to hire men like that when things weren't going his way. I wonder if Samantha sent him after the three of us," thought Ray out loud.

"Oh Ray, you're getting road crazy and after only twenty miles. In a hundred miles you'll be seeing Indians behind every rock," said Laurie as she shook her head.

"Maybe you're right, Laurie."

"That you're getting road crazy?"

"No, that in a hundred miles I'll be seeing Indians behind every rock. I sure hope not."

"Ray, a man sometimes can be too cautious."

"I never saw that written on anyone's tombstone."

Laurie stared off across the rolling hills for a moment and then without turning back to Ray asked softly, "Did you kill him?"

"Kill who, Laurie?"

"Mr. Rip. I knew that was where you were headed last night. Did you kill him?"

"No," Ray responded, with a hint of mirth in his voice. "Let's just say I secured him for awhile so we could have a nice quiet departure from town."

Laurie turned and stared at Ray's face to see if he was lying to her.

"Okay Laurie," He said, quickly, not wanting her to worry. "I tied him up and threw him down into the outhouse pit. Are you happy now?"

When Laurie burst into peals of laughter, shaking and clutching her stomach, Ray had to hold her in the seat to keep her from falling off the wagon. Her light green eyes sparkled with gaiety.

The first day's travel ended without incident, which seemed unusual to Ray since just about every day for the last several months seemed to have thrown a life or death situation at him. The train broke up into five assigned groups with people, horses, dogs, dinner fires and insects all on the inside of the wagon circle. Ray's small group sat around their warm fire next to Richard's wagon. They'd made Richard a bedroll under the wagon so he could lie there and be in on their conversations. He was able to sit up and walk a little, but was still unsteady on his feet.

The camp was physically and emotionally exhausted that first night but their hopes were high. Most of these people were going on an adventure: moving their families to a new life and a new world, with none of them knowing, or at least choosing not to dwell upon, the hardships that faced them. It was going to be a very long and dangerous trek to the west. Many would give up and stop along the way. Building themselves cabins out in the middle of nowhere, only to find the loneliness unbearable. Many would lose loved ones to disease, injury, arrows, bullets, and if lucky, old age. The ones who did make it clear to California would be the cream of the crop. They would be tough, resilient, strong and intelligent, quick and able to make impossible decisions at a moment's notice, and willing and able to see them through.

### Chapter 11

### Morgan

As some of the fires began to turn from flame to glow, so went the travelers' strength. One by one each rose and went off to their secured places to sleep out in the middle of a prairie.

Ray was restless throughout the night with his thoughts drifting back to his family. With his father buried in Wisconsin and his mother on her way to California, he was impatient to catch up to the remains of his family and let his mother know he was still alive. His thoughts were disrupted by the snap of a twig in the brush, just outside the wagon's circle. He didn't know why, but he was sure it was that gunfighter sneaking up on them. He reached down the side of his blanket and felt the grip of his Colt in his hand. Rising onto his elbows, he rolled from under the wagon and out into the brush. Ray squatted down on his feet and looked around for any kind of movement. Luckily, the moon was full so visibility was good. Next to the stream he saw a large shrub move. Remaining low to the ground he began to work his way forward. His hand gripped hard onto the handle of his Colt. Near the large brush he could just make out a person's movement. Ray moved closer. At the edge of the large bush he heard a muffled sound of pain. It wasn't the voice of a gunslinger. It was a girl's voice.

Ray broke around the bush with his gun at waist level ready to fire and was dumbfounded to be staring at a beautiful young woman knelt next to a small stream. She was sitting on a small rock with a cloth in one hand and little or no clothing on. She was staring back at him with eyes filled with shock, horror, embarrassment, and heated anger. Their eyes locked for several seconds. On Ray's side of the exchange the emotions ranged between wonder, amazement, joy, excitement, love and lust. Based on his limited experience with these emotions he could come to only one conclusion: they had known each other for all eternity. He immediately believed that they were in the deepest, most passionate love. It was only after this beautiful young woman spoke that the lock between them broke, making Ray reconsider the mutual affection he thought they had shared. The beautiful young woman quickly turned away and began to grab the clothing that was draped over a bush in an effort to cover up. Trying to assist her, Ray grabbed an item with every intention of handing it directly to her only to discover that it was her under garments. Suddenly his hand felt like he was holding onto a hot branding iron and he dropped them as fast as he could. The unmentionables drifted softly down to the muddy ground.

"I am so sorry, Miss. I heard you cry out and I thought...." Ray's voice crackled off, and for the life of him his tongue felt three sizes too big.

"You thought? You thought! I know what you thought," she yelled as she began to realize the embarrassing situation she was in.

"You sounded like you were in pain," Ray tried to explain.

"I stubbed my foot on a rock. That's all. If you are going to interrupt my bath every time I stub a toe, I'll probably never get a bath! Now stop staring at me with your mouth hanging wide open and get out of here!" she demanded.

"Yes Ma'am, yes I'll go, I am so sorry, I'm leaving right now, and I'm so..."

"Shut up and get out of here!" the girl shouted.

"Y...E...S... Ma'am," Ray said tripping backwards, falling over what was most likely the same stone she had kicked. He continued backwards on his hands and feet like a spider. Rising to his feet after what seemed like a safe distance then turned on his heels and walked quickly back to camp.

Feeling like a thief sneaking out the back door of a bank, his short steps turned into long ones. It wasn't long before he was on a dead run for the short distance back to the wagon. Finding his bedroll, Ray climbed under the blanket and pulled them up over his head, desperately wanting to go fast to sleep. Or at least give that impression while he waited for the scream of accusations to begin and the mob to come marching with torches to carry him away.

But it never happened! All was as quiet as it was when he originally heard the sound from the brush. Maybe she wasn't going to tell? Maybe she liked him and didn't want to see any harm come his way? In his young and inexperienced mind at understanding women he pictured their romance and how it would blossom throughout the duration of the journey.

Ray was shocked out of this dream by a strong kick to the ribs. "Listen here cowboy," came a familiar, feminine voice, "the only reason you're not hanging from that tree over there for attacking a woman is because I don't wish to be embarrassed by what happened and have to put up with all the looks and laughter all the way to California. So you're getting off easy tonight, but you ever come near me or try to talk to me again, I'll drop you where you stand, got it?"

Right then, Ray fell in love.

"Yes Ma'am. It was an accident, and I am truly sorry," Ray stuttered quickly.

"I'll make sure you're truly sorry if it ever happens again." And with that she marched off.

After uncoiling from the kick to the ribs, Ray began to think about this new love. He could tell she was crazy about him. He was sure she had just used that opportunity to yell at him, to get close. "Yes, sir. This journey just got a whole lot more interesting," Ray whispered.

After a restless night he threw back his blankets, rose and walked over to the community fire. The women already had coffee on the fire and were busying themselves preparing flapjacks, bacon and camp bread. This was the part of the day Ray enjoyed the most. Just standing there among the busy cooks reminded him of home. Ma would get up early and be cooking in the kitchen when he'd wake up in the morning. Before his eyes opened, his nose would herald in the morning with the wonderful smells of bacon, bread and sometimes donuts. Ray loved his Ma's donuts the best. No one made them like her. They were sweet, warm and just melted in your mouth. His mouth began to water from the memories and the smells coming from the cook station. As he tuned and made his move in for the kill, a fast moving object immediately impacted Ray. A large bucket of water held in the hands of the attacker flew back, covering both the bearer of the bucket and Ray from head to toe in a cascade of frigid water.

"What in God's green earth are you doing?" came that familiar voice. "Are you an idiot? Why don't you watch where you are going! People are trying to work here!" yelled the female voice that had yet to discover it was Ray.

Turning and looking through eyes filled with water she recognized the wall she had run into. "YOU! Oh, not you! How dare you! And after I warned you to stay away from me. You planned this didn't you? Oh you are so funny; you thought you would get even with me for yelling at you. Well we'll just see who gets even with whom!" and with that, she gathered up the hem of her soaked dress and ran off toward her wagon.

"Wait," Ray begged, "It was an accident. I'm so sorry. Please come back."

He started after her to explain when she stopped dead, turned and faced him with a look filled with daggers. Her large brown eyes grew almost black with anger. She quickly and calculatedly said, "You stay away from me or I'll have my Pa shoot you. Do you understand?"

Ray could see in her eyes that she was mad but he thought he also could see a little flicker of love. Maybe that was just his imagination, maybe not. He decided it was best not to push the issue further, so he gave ground and returned to the fire for some coffee. He figured they'd have time to talk all this out later.

"That was a real smooth move you made there, Ray," Laughed John's voice from behind him.

"You saw that?" Ray said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Everyone saw that, Ray, you almost drowned the poor girl."

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" Ray said as he stared off into the direction she had fled.

"Are you nuts? Are you falling for a girl that's one step away from shootin' you between the eyes?"

"What are you talkin' about? She was just flirtin' with me."

"Ray, there are a lot of things you do well, but understandin' women is not one of them. I'd give that little lady a wide berth for a while. At least until we have a chance to unload her daddy's gun."

John walked toward the breakfast fire shaking his head, thinking about how his best friend was going to get himself shot.

A few hours later found them once again on the trail. Staring into the same backend of those damn mules, Ray asked Laurie, "Laurie, do you know who that pretty girl is...?"

Laurie interrupted, "You mean the one you threw water all over this morning?"

"Well, I guess so."

"I think I heard someone call her Morgan, but if you're getting any ideas, you better just forget them."

"Why, Laurie? I think she likes me." Ray announced.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm getting' a little tired of that question. That's the second time today I've been asked that."

"Ray, that girl was about to shoot you. She's mad as hell at you for some reason and besides I think she already has a beau courting her on the wagon train."

Well this information hit Ray like a ton of bricks.

"Why would this girl lead me on like that?" He thought. "Why would she have made me fall in love with her when she already has another beau? Was she just playing games with me? Maybe she changed her mind about liking this other guy? Maybe when she saw me, she decided that I was the type of man she wanted! Yes, sir, that has to be it. Yes, she wanted me and it's obvious she won't take no for an answer." Ray's thoughts spiraled in this fashion until he leaned back and said, "Yup, she definitely has me in her sights," his voice full of confidence.

"You are crazy!" said Laurie. "If she or her daddy doesn't shoot you before it's all done, her beau will."

Laurie turned around so she could stick her head into the back covered portion of the wagon. "Richard, have you heard any of this?"

"Yeah. Sounds like that little girl's got it bad for Ray," Richard said seriously.

"Not you too!" cried Laurie, completely exasperated.

Looking at his new friends, Ray thought how Richard and Laurie sure made a handsome couple. Just from the way they looked at each other Ray knew it wouldn't be long before they got themselves hitched.

The trail dragged on, with the constant sound of stomping mule hooves on the trail. Unsecured pots and pans were singing their irritating songs, harnesses rapping out Morse code, wagons creaking and moaning. It was hard to hear someone sitting right next to you talking, so each just slipped into their own thoughts and dreamt about what lay at the end of the trail. What kind of a life they were going to be able to build for themselves? Ray had only one thought on his mind besides finding his mother, and that was Morgan.

### Chapter 12

### Zeke

It wasn't long before Richard got to feeling better and returned to the seat next to Laurie on their wagon. Quincy, the trail boss, assigned Ray to ride with the scout. A scout's duty is to ride out ahead of the wagon train, marking the trail, dropping any game along the way that you were able to shoot, watch for any danger and find water for nightly campsites.

Ray had to admit, he was thrilled with the idea of getting out from behind those mules. But he had heard stories about the man who now was the train's scout. The man was certainly set for the trails, with well-worn buckskins-in some places more worn than most observers were happy with. Ray had noticed he stayed off to himself when the wagons stopped for the night. He figured the guy just wasn't comfortable being around people, and more comfortable just talking to his mule, Betsy.

When Ray asked Quincy what the scout's name was, Quincy just chuckled and said he didn't think he had a real name. "All I know is he has been ridin' with my trains for over 10 years. And he's the best around." Quincy added thoughtfully, "Oh, I asked him once what his name was, but the old coot said he couldn't remember anymore. Said I could call him just about anything, exeptin' don't be callin' him late for supper," Quincy said and laughed a big one. "So I just call him Scout. He answers so I guess anything will work."

The scout, Ray soon learned, was a man of few words, and the ones he usually used were not for mixed company. Ray introduced himself, but has expected never got a name in return. He just told Ray to call him whatever. They had ridden a couple miles out from the lead wagon when they spotted a deer eating grass not a hundred yards off. The scout raised his Spencer rifle, took aim and pulled the trigger. The shot sounded like a small cannon going off and ran true to the target. About a hundred yards from the back of his mount, the deer dropped.

"That was the best shot I've ever seen, Zeke" Ray said with probably a dash too much excitement.

"Who's Zeke?" the scout asked.

"You are," Ray answered matter-of-factly. "Since you said I could call you anything I wanted I decided I liked Zeke."

"Yeah well, Zeke's as good as any. Anyway boy, if you wanna survive out here you best learn to make that kind of shot every time, and at an even greater distance. Get you a good rifle and make it work for ya."

"Yes sir," Ray answered as they rode towards the kill.

"Hold up, boy," said Zeke as they reared back their mounts not fifty yards from their prey.

"Why are we stoppin'?"

"Look there, just to the right of the kill, a couple steps back," Zeke answered.

"I don't see anything, what is it?"

"Quiet boy, just keep watchin'," pointed Zeke.

It took a bit, but then Ray saw some movement. No figure stood out, just the tops of the tall grass near tonight's dinner.

"What is it?" Ray whispered.

"Not sure, but if I had to make a guess I'd say Pawnee."

"Pawnee? Like the Indian, Pawnee? Out here? Already? We haven't traveled all that far from Missouri, and we already have Indians after us?" Ray questioned, his voice coming out more tinny and nervous than he would have liked.

"Not after us. They're after our dinner. Most Indians we'll be comin' across will always be lookin' for their next meal."

"You mean they're friendly?"

"I didn't say nothin' of the sort. Them damn heathens would slice your throat while you slept iffen' they wanted something you had. And don't forget it."

Ray swallowed hard trying to clear the knot in his throat and answered, "I won't. What are we gonna do now?"

"Well I figure there ain't a gonna be more than a couple of 'em. We could ride in a shootin', but that'd just anger the whole damn tribe, so I reckon we pow-wow."

"Are you sure we shouldn't shoot first and ask questions later?" Ray suggested.

"No need wastin' ammo on an Injun iffin we don't haveta'. We can always slice um up if they get pushy."

Ray looked over to Zeke to see if he was smiling at the joke he just made, but there was no smile. That's also about the time he remembered he didn't carry a knife. "That's it, first chance I get," whispered Ray to himself, "I'm getting another rifle and a knife."

They rode up to about twenty feet from the carcass. Zeke called out in a language that sounded like gibberish to Ray. He raised his right hand up, palm facing the ones he was calling to. It wasn't long before three young Indians stood up from the grass. They looked a little upset that they'd been so easily spotted. Their buckskins showed more wear than Zeke's, and they looked weathered and worn down to near starvation. Zeke spoke to them and it seemed to relax the situation. The Indians didn't appear to be armed so Ray settled back in his saddle and watched them closely for any quick movement.

He had seen Indians before in Wisconsin, and some of them were bad ones to be near, but he'd never had a run in with ones like these. He could honestly say that he was more than just a little nervous.

About then Zeke turned to Ray, "Let's go, boy," he said as he turned his mule to return to where they had come from.

"What about our deer?"

"We're leavin' it," Zeke said resolutely.

"Leaving it? What the hell are you talkin' about? You shot it, why you givin' it up to those Indians?" Ray spit.

"Boy, sometimes ya can get more outta' givin' something up than you can by keepin' it."

"I don't understand."

"Those Pawnee are from a small tribe that was disarmed by the Army. They're not beggars; they're starving and trying to survive. There's a difference. We'll get another shot at game 'afore we get back."

"I sure hope so; I'd hate to return to the wagons without something to show for our day's work," shied Ray even though he knew Zeke was right, and respected him for his restraint.

"Well at least that deer should help keep them Pawnee from coming' into camp tonight and helpin' themselves."

-CKS-

As the day continued on they did secure another deer. They also crossed several trails of unshod ponies, which meant there had to be a larger group of Pawnee nearby.

"I reckon we'd better find where that tribe's holdin' up," said Zeke as he scratched his thick beard.

"Why? Looks to me like they're friendly enough. Why don't we just leave them be?"

"You have a lot to learn 'bout people Ray, especially Indian type people. That one deer ain't gonna do nothin' but wet their appetites. When it's gone and that'll be soon enough, they'll start thinkin' about the cattle we got with the wagons."

"Then why did you give it to them? Seems like you just wasted a deer," Ray scorned.

"First off, I didn't know so many were so close, Mr. Wise Apple. All I was facin' at the time were three that I could see, with a snot nose kid sittin' next to me."

"Snot nose kid? What do you mean snot nosed? I'm almost all of seventeen years grown and tougher than most," bragged Ray.

"Now calm down, boy, I figured you could handle yourself all right but when you don't know how many you're fighting, don't start the dance. I done taken a likin' to ya boy and I think you have the makins of becomin' someone to ride the river with. But ya don't know shit about trail life. Now if you get to where you shut up and listen instead of gettin' your hair all up, I might be able to teach ya a thing or two," Zeke scolded.

Ray thought for a moment, "Thanks Zeke, you're right. I do have a lot to learn."

"What I've been taught and learned has saved my life a mess a times. So watch and learn sonny, and you'll do fine. Now let's see if we can find those Injuns without gettin' ourselves into a peck of trouble."

They decided following on top of the Indian tracks was the best way to go at first. The trail led far enough to get a good idea where the Pawnee were headed. Then they swung off the trail by about a hundred yards and rode through some high grass.

A couple of hours before sunset Zeke raised his hand to stop Ray. "Smell that boy? Wood smoke. We're gettin' close, so watch yourself. No shootin' unlessen' there's no other way."

Signaling Ray to dismount, Zeke said, "Tie your horse loose to that downed tree. That way if anything happens to us the horses will be able to get free."

Bending at the waist the two moved quickly through the tall grass. Ray hadn't smelled the wood smoke when Zeke had, but he sure did now. It smelled strong enough that he thought he might break through the grass at any moment and step right into the middle of the Pawnee camp.

Continuing to hunch over while he listened, Zeke reached out and placed his hand on Ray's chest just enough to stop his momentum. Then as quickly as a cat he placed his hand on top of Ray's head, pushing him straight down to the ground. Zeke lay flat on the ground next to Ray with a finger over his mouth demanding silence. Finally, Ray heard them coming. Just a light swooshing sound that got louder and louder. Zeke looked Ray right in the eye as much to say, "this is it boy."

"Damn it," Ray cussed under his breath, "I still don't have that knife. I got to get one before I run out of luck." Ray was sure he'd never been this scared; the Indians were walking straight for them.

The sound of cloth on brush was so close it seemed as if the Pawnee were going to step right on them.

The Indians, however, had no idea that the two were even there. That was soon to change. Zeke tapped Ray's shoulder, covering his mouth again with a finger, and Ray could see a slight smile growing on Zeke's face. It wasn't long before Ray knew what he was smiling at. He could hear a stream of water hitting the tall grass and falling to the ground. It seems the Indians had entered the tall grass to relieve themselves. Ray was never as happy as right then, realizing as soon as they were done the Indians would head back to their camp.

Then it hit him, a warm wet feeling running on the side of his leg. Through the tall grass one of the Pawnee was unknowingly relieving himself on Ray's leg. Holding back a hard belly laugh, Zeke figured out what was happening and almost gave away their position. All Ray could do was lay there and let his pant leg soak up the liquid. He didn't dare move for fear they would be discovered. After the longest few moments of his life the Indians returned in the direction they had come. Zeke and Ray could finally rise from their position on the ground.

"Oh shit. He went all over my leg." Ray whispered in disgust.

Zeke was holding back any noise but he was laughing so hard inside that he had tears in his eyes.

"You'll be okay, boy. A lot of men wish that was all the Pawnee did to them the first time they ran into one. That does give me an idea though. I heard a couple dogs barkin' when we first came up here. That's why we had to stay down wind. But with that new smell you're carrying, hopefully we can get a lot closer. The dogs won't bark if they take us for friendlies. Now pull off those drawers boy and rub that scent all over ya." Zeke directed.

"What! Are you crazy?"

"Look boy, this is your first lesson in huntin' Indians. Learn it or die."

"Shit, I can't believe I'm doing this," Ray said as he began to rub his wet pant leg onto his arms, chest and back.

"Do the top of your head too, boy. Don't want no white man smell reachin' those dogs." Zeke said with a snicker.

"Okay. I'm done, here you go." Ray said as he handed his pants over to Zeke.

"Get those damn stinky things away from me. There's no damn need for both of us to smell like piss. Now get down on your belly and crawl over until you can see into their camp. Count how many you see and then crawl back." Zeke instructed.

"You're not puttin' any of this on you? That's not fair. Why did I have to be the one?"

"You were already picked out by the Indians as the one, now get started. I'm getting' hungry and I'm like a mother bear with a lost cub when my stomach is empty. And damn it, don't get caught."

Ray looked long at Zeke trying to decide if he wanted to hit him or just walk back to the horses.

"Oh shit, I already have the awful smell on me now, so I guess I might as well take a look," Ray resigned.

"That a boy," said Zeke, as he almost slapped Ray on the back until he remembered why Ray's shirt was wet.

Ray knelt down into the tall grass and began to snake his way forward. Several times he came face to face with large spiders making their new homes. He tried to go around them as best he could but usually ended up just climbing over or through them.

"God, I hate spiders," sighed Ray.

As he pierced through a clump of grass his head suddenly broke through into the Indian camp. Ray jerked head back just in time to avoid detection by a passing squaw. Taking a deep breath he slowly poked his head back through the thicket and he was surprised to find only a small group. He counted maybe eight men and six women and didn't see or hear any children. There were two ragged looking dogs lying down next to one of the older squaws as she cut up what looked to be a small rabbit for dinner. At first since he saw no weapons to speak of: they must have caught it in a snare. But then he saw one rifle leaning up against a large pack. One of the braves was carrying another rifle. Both weapons looked old and well used but still looked like they could fire. Ray decided he'd pushed his luck long enough and began to back out of this position and head to where he left Zeke.

Zeke didn't seem very positive when Ray explained what he had seen. They discussed the two rifles and Zeke gave several explanations as to why Ray only saw two: They could have hidden them for fear of being stolen by other Indians, or to prevent the troops from finding them. Zeke figured they probably got 'em from one of those damn gun peddlers.

"Let's get back to the train before we find out just how good them rifles do work," said Zeke, hustling to their horses.

It was after dark by the time they reached their camp. The wagons had already formed a large circle, and dinner fires were burning.

Quincy met them as they rode through the wagons, "I was beginnin' to worry about you boys."

"You don't have to worry about us, but we do have some Pawnee to consider. Coop, you tell him what you saw," Zeke said has he started to pat Ray on the shoulder yanking his hand back when he remembered Ray's new scent.

Ray took a double take at Zeke calling him Coop; but quickly decided that he liked it. "Well, there were eight men, six women, two scrounge dogs, and no kids," explained Ray. "I also saw two rifles, there might have been more, but that's all I saw."

"What do you think?" said Quincy looking at Zeke.

"Well, I think we'll end up havin' some trouble with 'em. Our stock is just too temptin' for them to pass up," Zeke said before he was interrupted.

"I say you send some men in there and clean them damn redskins out of our path. They're nothing but dogs eatin' the scraps of honest men!" came a voice from a thin, small man rounding the wagon.

"Now Mickey Farrell, you just mind your own damn business and let us handle this," scolded Quincy.

"This is as much my business as it is yours. I have some cattle in the herd and some horses. I plan to protect my interests," whined Mickey.

"What the hell are you talkin' about Mickey? All you have are two skinny dairy cows and a sway back mare. If you call that an interest to protect then by those standards I'm a millionaire. Now get the hell out of here before I put my boot up your ass," Quincy said, pointing back to the campfire.

"Okay, I'm leavin', but this ain't over. Only good Indian is a dead Indian," swore Mickey as he stomped off.

"I don't like that son-of-a-bitch one bit. It's his kind that keeps the Indians on the warpath. You watch, he's gonna be trouble," spit Zeke.

"What do you think about us ridin' out there and offerin' them a couple head of cattle? At least that way we can pick out the cattle they get," offered Quincy.

"I can't think of any other way around it," said Zeke. "I think we oughta give em Mickey Farrell's cows."

"It'd serve him right. But no, I'll cut a couple out of my own stock," sighed Quincy.

"By the way, which one of you pissed your pants?" Quincy looked them up and down and settled on Ray. "Boy, you stink!"

"That's it, I'm gone!" Ray said as he headed for the stream.

### Chapter 13

### Pawnee Camp

Ray walked around the outside of the wagons and was headed straight for the stream that ran on the east side of the camp. It wasn't a big stream but it would do. Because of the row of thorns that blocked his route, he decided to go between two wagons. Just as he stepped over the wagon tongue Morgan came around the opposite side to also take advantage of the short cut between the wagons. As they passed each other Ray's heart soared until he saw her nose wrinkle.

"Well I'm hardly surprised. Not even house broken," she said with a note of arrogance.

Ray stopped as she continued on without looking back.

All he could say to himself was, "Shit."

After a well deserved and needed bath, a strong cup of coffee, and a plate of stew, Ray was ready for his bedroll.

"Ray, wake the hell up! Come on boy, we need to hit the saddle and quick," came a voice out of his dreams rattling his thoughts until he awoke.

"What the hell. Leave me alone," Ray mumbled, as he shrugged off the hand that was shaking him.

"Ray, Mickey talked a bunch a old boys into goin' over to the Indian camp to run 'em off. We need to get there and stop 'em," shouted Zeke. "Get your buddies and get mounted. We needed to be in the saddle ten minutes ago!"

Finally awake and realizing the gravity of the situation, Ray jumped out of his bedroll.

"Larry! John! Wake up boys we need to ride! Come on!" Ray shouted as he pulled on his pants and shirt, still a little damp from their scrubbing.

Within ten minutes, the three of them were saddled and mounted when Richard who was almost completely recovered, rode up. "Let's go boys."

Without speaking, the four of them rode to the west end of the wagon circle to meet up with Zeke and the others.

They rode hard to try to make up the distance between them and Mickey Farrell. The dust hanging in the air ahead of them told them they weren't far behind. With the Indian camp just a few miles to the southwest, Ray wondered if Quincy and the other riders would be able to cut Farrell off in time, and if they did, to what length would they have to go to stop them?

Quincy pointed towards the Indian camp, "They're already sittin' their horses in the camp! We're too late!" yelled Quincy.

Riding slowly into the camp, Ray's team was surprised to see the Pawnee had the drop on the five-armed men in Farrell's group.

"Keep your hands away from your guns boys. We don't want this to open up iffen' we can avoid it," said Quincy.

Ray and the other riders stopped just inside the camp and to the left of the Pawnee. Farrell and his men were to the right, with Farrell sitting in the middle facing the braves. The same Indian braves Ray had seen yesterday now stood fast holding three rifles toward all of them.

"I must have missed one of the guns when I observed the camp earlier," thought Ray. He could tell by their movement that the braves were scared, but they held their ground.

Finally the standoff was broken when Quincy asked Zeke to speak to the Pawnee for him. "Scout, tell the Pawnee that we do not want bloodshed. We will take these men away and bring back a couple steers. We will leave them in peace."

"Like hell we will!" yelled Farrell causing the braves to jerk their rifles toward him.

Ray had all he could take. "Farrell, you back off right now, or I'll put a bullet between your eyes."

"You better watch your mouth boy. I have men here that'll shoot you down," threatened Farrell.

"I'm not talking to them, I'm talking to you. Make one move towards these Indians and you'll die!" Ray promised.

Farrell no longer sat tall in his saddle, no longer felt inflated from the power given him by having these hard men follow him. He knew in the West, men expected you to stomp your own snakes. He'd been singled out now and the next move was his.

"Okay, okay, take it easy, we're on the same side here. We shouldn't be fighting' amongst ourselves. I'll tell you what: I'll forget what you said to me and we'll all just clean out this nest of filth," said Farrell.

Turning from side to side Farrell smiled at his men. When he thought Ray had taken his eyes off him, he turned back and began to pull iron. He was shocked to see Ray's eyes dead on him and the flaming red barrel of his Colt. Farrell was dead before he left the saddle.

"Jesus, boy. I didn't know you were that fast," said Zeke.

"Me neither," Ray replied as he replaced the spent shell.

The three rifles were still aimed directly at them, as the nervous Pawnee tried to figure out what just happened and why these crazy white men were killing each other.

You could see the relief on the Pawnees' faces once Zeke had a chance to repeat what Quincy told him to say. When Zeke mentioned the beef, they actually smiled. The braves nodded yes and moved back slowly.

"Let's go boys, this party is over. Scout, when we get back to the wagons, have one of the boys watchin' the herd cut out two and bring 'em here," ordered Quincy.

"Will do, Boss," acknowledged Zeke as he looked at Farrell's men. "You boys rode out with Farrell; you can take him back and bury him."

"Bury him? It's been warm the last few days but not warm enough to of thawed out that ground. It'll take dynamite to get deeper than a foot down," said one of Farrell's men.

"I don't care what you do with him!" yelled Quincy who was now at the end of his rope, "Find a damn ditch to throw him into then push dirt down over him. I don't care, just get it done."

As Quincy started to ride off, he stopped and looked back at the riders, "Throw some damn rocks over him too. It'll keep the varmints off him."

Ray's team rode out, leaving Farrell's men struggling to get Farrell thrown over his saddle and tied on. Two of the men were lifting the body up while the other was trying to hold the horse.

"Damn it Buck, hold that horse steady, this ain't easy!" yelled one of the men as he lifted Mickey.

The horse was bucking and pulling hard on the reigns.

"I'm doing the best I can Floyd, this flea bag is plum spooked by the blood!"

Floyd dropped the body hard on the ground and picked up a branch lying nearby.

"I'll teach ya, ya damn flea bag!" He yelled as he started beating the animal.

Richard just happened to look back to see what was happening, "Hold up boys, I'm going back."

And with that, Richard turned his mount and galloped back to Farrell's men. Flinging himself from the back of his horse in a dead run, he grabbed the branch from Floyd's grasp, spinning him in a full circle. Richard then landed his right fist into Floyd's face, collapsing him to the ground like a rag doll. Richard then turned and faced the two remaining men. One was standing with his mouth hanging down as he held Farrell's right arm. The other was still holding onto the reigns, trying to control the horse. Richard lifted the dead body up over his shoulder, flinging him onto his saddle. He then returned to Floyd lifting him onto his saddle as well.

"Now, you boys think you can handle it from here?" Richard said as he returned to his horse, mounted, and rode back to where Ray, John and Larry sat in their saddles, watching in amazement.

When they returned to the train several people greeted them, wanting to know what happened. Quincy called all those interested into the center of the camp and explained the details. He described how Mickey had drawn first on Ray and that as far as he was concerned that was the end of it. A couple of Mickey's drinking buddies started to complain when Quincy walked away, but soon realized they really weren't going to miss Farrell all that much.

Over his shoulder Quincy yelled, "We're burning daylight. Let's get these wagons moving." And with that, they hit the trail.

### Chapter 14

### Ft. Kearney

Near the end of the day the train arrived at Fort Kearney and pulled into a large flat area that had several other wagons already in small circles. The fort wasn't what they had expected. There was no tall log wall around a military facility and it wasn't spotless with sharp looking soldiers marching up and down the parade grounds. Instead it was made of several long barracks constructed from sod and the soldiers were unkempt and dirty. The Fort did have a general store, a mail office and a make shift saloon.

After writing a letter back to Doc in Wisconsin to let him know where they were and which direction they planned to head, Ray wrote a letter to his Ma. He sent it in care of Pueblo de Los Angeles, addressed in his mother's name hoping she might find it or it finds her. Ray and John then headed over to the general store to post the letters. Larry had chosen to stay back talking with Richard and Laurie. Being curious about what went on in an Army Fort saloon, Ray and John decided to go over and see what it was like. Having heard several stories about the card games, women, bad whiskey and of course gunplay, the two were a little nervous when they stepped into a long, narrow, dark room. The bar ran the length of the building along the back wall, with a series of barrels lined up with planks laid across their tops.

Because their eyes had not adjusted to the darkness yet, they just followed the sunbeam coming in through the open doorway. It lit a path like a carpet leading them straight to the bar. Trying to look like they belonged, Ray and John moved along its length to the right end in order to get to one side of the room, where they hoped to go unnoticed.

Ray slid against the bar gliding his left hand along the edge of the planks to guide him. John was right behind him, trying not to lose Ray in the dark. Ray figured they'd gone far enough when he suddenly ran into an object that pushed him back into John making them both fall over each other and on to the floor.

Their eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness. Ray looked up from the floor and he could make out a man standing over them wearing all black. Rubbing his eyes in an effort to speed the process of seeing in the dark, Ray could now make out a tied down holster sitting low on his right hip. The stranger made sure the gun was still in the holster.

"Apparently you have a death wish mister. You bumped my arm and spilled my drink. Nobody, and I mean nobody, touches me," threatened the man in black.

"Look, we're awful sorry," explained John, "it was dark and we couldn't see where we were goin'. Can we buy you another drink, mister?"

"You two are lucky. I feel giving today so I'll let you live. Now buy me that drink and then get the hell away from me," demanded the man.

"Yes sir, we will," said John as he and Ray untangled themselves and lifted themselves up off the floor.

"Bartender, another whiskey, and these two tinhorns are buyin'," proclaimed the man in black, returning to the bar with his back to Ray and John.

"Come on Ray; let's pay for his whiskey and go. I don't much feel like a drink anymore," whispered John.

"Bullshit, we're gonna stand up to the bar and have a drink. Then we'll go back to the wagon and get ready for more long days eatin' dirt and avoidin' Indians. Come on," cussed Ray.

"Okay, you're right, I am thirsty. What are we gonna order?" asked John.

"I think it's either beer or whiskey." Ray reported.

"Okay. Bartender, can we get two whiskeys down here?" called John.

"I was thinkin' more like a beer but I guess we might as well give it a try."

The bartender approached with a bottle and two glasses. "Do you want me to leave the bottle?"

"Sure," said John.

Leaving the bottle, the bartender walked away with a small chuckle under his breath.

"John, what the hell are you doin'? We don't drink, not the likes of a full damn bottle. We'll be drunk out of our minds," Ray said incredulously.

"You said you wanted to have a drink, now drink up," answered John as he threw his drink to the back of his throat and swallowed. "Not bad," gasped John.

"Sounds like it," Ray said as he eased his drink into his mouth and swallowed. It was like drinking fire, burning all the way down. Ray waited for the burn to diminish before he tried to speak, his voice coming out in a strained whisper, "you're right, not bad."

After drinking nearly the entire bottle of rotgut whiskey, John suddenly froze, stared at the back wall of the saloon and ran for the door.

Ray turned to see where he went, but when he started to turn his head in John's direction his vision kept going 'round and 'round. It was only a matter of time before he was bent over next to John, both emptying their stomachs.

Returning back to the saloon, the two were met with a barrage of heckling. They quickly paid for their drinks and with their tails between their legs and their heads spinning like two toy tops, slowly helped each other back to the wagons and crawled into their bedrolls.

It was a rough night for both of them, crossing paths a couple times as they headed out into the bushes to empty their stomachs.

The next morning the last thing he wanted to see was breakfast, so Ray grabbed a cup of coffee and headed as far away from the cooking fires as he could get. Finding John still sleeping in his bedroll, Ray decided to join the others outside the wagon circle with another cup of coffee.

"You know, Ray," said John walking up behind Ray as he tucked his shirt into his pants. "That guy we ran into yesterday in the bar...I was thinkin' he looked familiar. But I can't place him."

Ray turned from the small group of men he had been talking to address John, "Wait a minute, you know you're right. I know who he is. Shit, that's the guy that saved our asses back in Missouri. He shot that guy that was gonna kill us. Remember?" announced Ray.

"Yeah, that's it. He must be going to California too. We should find him and ask if he wants to ride along with us." said John.

"I don't think that would be a very good idea. I've got a bad feelin' about that fella." Ray decided.

"What are you talking about, Ray?" asked John.

"Okay, yesterday when we ran into him he was about to call us out. I'm sure he was. It wasn't until he recognized who we were that he backed off. At first I thought maybe he took us for a couple kids, but now I'm not so sure."

"What are you thinkin', Ray?" joined Larry.

"A hired gun shows up just in time to kill an assassin out of the goodness of his heart. I saw into his eyes yesterday and there's no heart there. No, he had his own reasons for killin' that man. And I reckon it has somethin' to do with Samantha Foster."

"I think you're still drunk, Ray," laughed Larry.

"That may be true, but for now, just humor me. Stay away from that gunslinger and don't turn your back on him. At least until we know more about him."

"What makes you think we'll ever see him again?" asked Richard.

"Well, it took us a month to get to here by wagon train. A man on horseback should be almost all the way to Ft Laramie by now. There's nothin' here at Ft. Kearney to keep a man like that interested for this long. He's been waitin' for us to catch up," Ray answered.

"But why?" asked Larry.

"I think he's just bidin' his time. Waitin' for the perfect moment and place to do what he came to do. He reminds me of a cat playin' with a mouse. Oh hell, I'm hungry, I'll see you boys later, I'm gonna see if there's any breakfast left." Ray concluded, turning to walk back to the breakfast fires.

After some biscuits and bacon, Ray was feeling like his old self again and headed for his mount, figuring he'd be riding with Zeke again today.

"Excuse me?" came a soft voice from behind him. Ray turned around to find Morgan standing under the shade of a cottonwood tree.

"I'm sorry, are you talkin' to me?" Ray asked as he looked around for the someone else she was really calling.

"Look, all I want to say is that I heard about what you did and why you smelled so bad the other day. Well maybe I misjudged you, a little." Realizing she was talking to him, Ray turned toward her with a large smile plastered on his face. "I said a little," Morgan motioned for him to relax. "But you did risk your life for us so I apologize for my comments." With that said she picked up a blanket from the ground next to her and began folding it. Ray took a moment to notice her graceful hands, thick brown hair, and slender waist. He felt desire take hold in his stomach and his heart beat faster.

"Well thank you for that. My Pa always told me when you make a mistake; it's a big man that makes sure he makes it right. Not that you're a man or anything, I mean..." Ray coughed and awkwardly thought of what to sat next.

"I know what you mean Ray, now run along I have to get these things loaded in my wagon."

"Can I help you with anything?" Ray desperately wanted his time with her to last as long as possible.

"Look, I said I was sorry, that's it. I'm sure you have other things to do elsewhere." Morgan turned and walked to her wagon, arms full.

Ray stood there totally confused. Muttering to himself, he reasoned, "She hates me, then she talks nice to me and then she hates me again. Oh well, like she said, I have work to do." And with that, Ray headed over to Quincy for the day's assignments, glancing back at Morgan over his shoulder before resigning himself to the days work.

Quincy had the boys load wagons from the general store. Ray hadn't worked that hard since being back at the mill. Fortunately, the early spring weather was cool enough that they were able to work until almost sunset without a break. Quincy planned for them to load again tomorrow, and then hit the trail the next day. Ray couldn't believe it but he was actually ready to be on the trail again, not sitting behind a team of mules or oxen, but riding with Zeke.

Finally they were on their way to Ft Laramie. Zeke and Ray were out ahead of the wagons and gaining distance on them, when a thought ran through Ray's mind. He hoped that Ft. Laramie would be more exciting than Ft. Kearney turned out to be, but he wasn't getting his hopes up. Then he wondered if the gunslinger was going to be sitting there waiting for them.

"I don't know what you're thinkin about, but you better get your mind on the trail." Zeke suggested. "Two men ridin alone out here need to have their wits about them," said Zeke, bringing Ray out of his daydream. "Let's see what we can find to spice up the dinner pots tonight."

### Chapter 15

### Closing the Mill

Samantha Foster slammed her fist down on her desk like a little girl having a tantrum. "Why have I not had word from at least one of my shooters? They should have killed Ray Cooper by now. I bet they took my money and just rode off. I can't trust anyone anymore. Everyone in this town is against me and they have made that little shit Ray Cooper out to be some kind of a hero. I wonder if they would be so high and mighty if I were to shut the mill down."

"Oh you can't do that, Miss Foster," said Phillip, the butler that had met Ray at the door the night her Pa was killed.

"Phillip, you have been with the family for as long as I can remember, but this is none of your business!" shrieked Samantha.

"Yes Miss Foster, I spoke out of turn. It's just that I care about you and want you to be happy," pleaded Phillip.

"Phillip, you are not my father, nor are you my mother. You have been and always will be an employee of this house. If you exceed your boundaries again you will be released from your position," cautioned Samantha. "Now, as you know, I had the sheriff set up a town meeting this afternoon, and until just now, I wasn't completely sure what I was going to say. But after talking with you Phillip, my mind is made up. Now leave me alone!"

Phillip had seen that look in Samantha's eyes before but had dismissed it as the product of a wealthy, spoiled child who had never heard the word. "No." For the first time he saw it for what it really was. Samantha was losing her mind. She was filled with such anger and vengeance that what could have been a precious young woman was consumed with hatred. Samantha Foster was quite mad.

"I SAID YOU WERE DISMISSED!" screamed Samantha, bringing Phillip out of his thoughts.

He now feared her more than loved her, but out of respect for the family he had served all his adult life, he would try to stand by her until the bitter end.

-CKS-

"You can't do this Miss Foster! The people of this settlement have worked hard at your father's mill to build a future for themselves!" pleaded Doc.

"I am well aware of what my father's mill has meant to this town," responded Samantha standing on her front porch addressing the settlement. "But my mind is made up. The mill will be closed by the end of the month."

"But why?" cried out several members of the small crowd. "Where are we going to go?"

"I don't care where you go," spoke Samantha coldly. "I guess you'll just...go." With that, Samantha entered her house slamming the door behind her.

The town's people stood in shock and dismay. Some of the women began to cry, causing many of the children to begin crying as well. The men began to gather together and discuss their alternatives, being few and far between. The lumbermen had not seen this coming and were not prepared for it.

Phillip met Samantha at the front door and approached her like one would approach a wild animal. Trying to keep his voice low and steady, he said, "Miss Foster, why are you doing this? You could easily sell the mill to someone else and no one would have to suffer. In turn you would increase your wealth by a substantial amount."

"First off, I will not discuss my affairs with the help. Where were they when that boy murdered my Pa? No one in this settlement raised a single finger to try and capture that murderer and his filthy friends and bring them to justice. They did not respect my family or me and therefore I will not respect them. They can all starve to death as far as I am concerned."

"But Miss Foster, when the marshal rode through the last time, you told him that it wasn't murder?" questioned Phillip.

"I know what I said. If the settlement had pursued Mr. Cooper and brought him back, then I would have had my revenge. But by the time the marshal showed up, Ray Cooper and his gang was long gone. So I am now taking care of the matter myself."

"By taking care of it yourself do you mean hiring those three gun man?" Phillip asked sarcastically.

"YOU FORGET YOURSELF, PHILLIP!" yelled Samantha as she saw red. "Leave me, now!"

"Yes Ma'am," said Phillip as he scurried from the room.

### Chapter 16

### Jack Smoot

A couple days out of Ft. Kearney, Jack Smoot snuck up behind Morgan Adams, placing his hands over her eyes. "Guess who?" he said jokingly.

She reached up and took his hands from her face and spun around. "Oh, Jack, you finally caught up with the wagons. I've missed you so much. What was so important that you had to stay back in Ft. Kearney?"

"Now don't you worry your little head about affairs best left to men," he smiled, at her, his eyes lit with faint condescension.

Morgan didn't care much for the way he dismissed her need to be involved in what she felt were their affairs. But she figured time would iron that problem out.

"I've got a wonderful idea. Why don't you throw somethin' into a basket and we go for a ride out on the prairie?" Jack suggested.

"I don't know, that doesn't sound like a very safe thing to do. The wagon boss told all of us to stay near the wagons. This is supposed to be Cherokee territory."

"Everyone knows that the Cherokee are friendly. Come on Morgan, unless you don't want to go for a ride with me?"

"No, no that's not it; I'm just a little scared."

"You don't have to worry about any damn Indians, I'll keep you safe," bragged Jack while he thought more about what he hoped would happen out there where the two of them were alone.

"Okay, as long as you think it's safe enough," said Morgan, consenting to Jack's insistent charm.

Morgan knew that Jack was an eastern boy and had little or no experience on the trail. She wanted to show her beau she had faith in him, so when she carried the saddlebags filled with food to the horses, she didn't mention to him the pistol also packed in the amongst their lunch.

Morgan was enjoying the warm morning sun on her face as they rode across the small rolling hills away from the train toward the north. Jack was also watching the scenery, but it only consisted of Morgan's form in the saddle. He was quite taken by the way she rode her horse astride instead of in a sidesaddle. She wore a pair of men's jeans pulled tight at the waist by a leather belt. The top was her Pa's; a red plaid shirt tucked into her belt with sleeves rolled up on her arms to free her hands. She wore a small Stetson on the back of her head to keep the sun off of her pretty face.

After riding a short distance, Jack spotted a small grove of trees. He turned Morgan's horse to ride in under some branches. He dismounted and walked around the front of his horse, reaching out and taking Morgan's reins and tied both horses to a tree. He then turned and helped Morgan down from her mount. Morgan untied the packs from her saddle and carried them over to a flat spot in the shade. Meanwhile Jack spread out the blanket he had conveniently tied to the back of his saddle. Morgan sat down on the end of the blanket and started laying out some food, intentionally placing the items as a wall between her and the advances that she was sure would be forthcoming. Jack threw himself down onto the blanket in front of Morgan, grabbed a drumstick and began to eat his way through Morgan's defenses.

"When we get to California, what are your plans?" asked Morgan still trying to gain some insight into Jack.

"Oh, I'm not exactly sure yet. I figure to play it by ear. See what happens, what comes my way," answered Jack

"You mean our way, right?" Morgan asked.

"Oh yeah, that's exactly what I meant, our way, what comes our way," said Jack as he pushed the food off the blanket and slid over next to Morgan, who sat with her legs crossed.

"Well I think we should be getting back now," said Morgan.

"Don't worry sweet thing, we can leave in a few minutes," Jack whispered while putting his arm around her.

"Please don't do that, Jack. We aren't even properly engaged yet," pleaded Morgan as she tried to untwine his arms from around her neck.

"I say we get engaged right now," said Jack as he rose to his knees, forcing himself against Morgan. His weight pushed her over onto her back as he fell on top of her.

"Jack! No! You get off of me right now! This is not right! You're ruining everything," cried Morgan as she struggled to free herself.

"Oh shit, that hurt! What the hell did you hit me with?" cried Jack.

As he rolled off of Morgan, Jack looked up and found himself staring up into the eyes of three Cherokee braves. Filled with such overwhelming fear he never heard Morgan's scream as the braves grabbed her arms and drug her to her horse. Jack was set to run off in the opposite direction when he was struck from behind again, causing everything to suddenly turn black.

The Indians threw Jack over his saddle and the five horses were off in a fast trot.

-CKS-

Morgan sat close to her protector on the Indian skins that covered the hut floor. She had always been one who could take care of herself, but this was different. Her entire body was shaking uncontrollably with fear. She did feel some comfort in the arms of Jack Smoot.

Smoot, however, wasn't feeling as secure and safe as this young girl in his arms seemed to be feeling. What was he going to do? He thought to himself. How was he going to get out of this mess? He didn't want to die. He didn't deserve to die. He was too young and too gifted.

As the tent flap whipped open, a white man named Bowman entered the hut.

"Okay, here is what you are up against. The brave that brought you two in decided that he wants the young woman for his wife. Normally that would be the end of it for you son. But when they captured you two, it seems they found you in somewhat of a compromised position. The tribal leaders believe you are husband and wife."

"But we're not husband and wife and if Jack had not thrown himself at me, we would have been sitting quite civilized," whimpered Morgan.

"You don't understand. This could work to your benefit. This tribe does not allow one to marry another man's wife, not even a white man's."

"So they'll let Morgan and I go?" interrupted Jack.

"Yes, if you defeat him," answered Bowman.

"Defeat him? Defeat who? How?" Jack squeaked.

"The brave," answered Bowman. "If you kill the brave, then you will have won the challenge and Morgan will not have to go with Crazy Dog," explained Bowman.

"Crazy Dog, is that his name?" asked Jack.

"Yes, he's this tribe's greatest warrior."

"Well then how am I supposed to defeat him?" asked Jack.

"I'm not so sure you can, unless you are very good at fighting Indian style and using a knife. But it is your only hope to save this young woman," Bowman said gesturing toward Morgan.

"Morgan, yes of course, Morgan. Okay, what if I refused to fight him, what would happen? Would they release me?" asked Jack without looking the others in the eyes.

"I don't think, I understand your question," asked Bowman. "You did hear me say that if you don't fight, Morgan will have to go with Crazy Dog?"

"Yes, yes of course, but...just to discuss all our options...what would happen?" Jack inquired.

"Well I guess one of three things: either they would let you go and give Morgan to

Crazy Dog, make you someone's slave and give Morgan to Crazy Dog, or torture and kill you and then give Morgan to Crazy Dog. Any way you look at it, if you don't fight, Morgan will be a captive of Crazy Dog's. I don't see where you have any choice. Should I go and tell the tribal council that you accept the challenge?" asked Bowman as he began to rise and move towards the tent flap opening.

"Now hold on, let's not move too quickly until we have a chance to think about this. Maybe the wagons are sending a rescue party as we speak, perhaps if we stall, we can gain an edge?" stuttered Jack.

"The Cherokee will see anyone coming long before Anyone coming see the Cherokee, and kill all three of us long before anyone can even get close to the camp. No. Morgan's only chance is to get her away from here as soon as possible. Now are you ready to fight?" demanded Bowman.

"No, I can't fight a damn Indian. It ain't civilized, this ain't fair. I didn't do anything to them...I don't deserve this...I haven't harmed them...No, No, No," shook Jack as he pulled away from the others.

"I'll fight but not now, no not now, we need to wait and bide our time...perhaps if I refuse to fight they'll let me go and I can go get help. Yes I think that might work. Crazy Dog won't have time to harm Morgan before I get back, you'll see," begged Jack.

"That won't work Jack and you know it!" shouted Bowman as he turned to Morgan.

"What do you want to do? There isn't much time."

After a long silent pause, Morgan spoke, "I can't ask him to fight for me. He's right, this is not his fight and besides, he's no Indian fighter. Perhaps if I go with this Crazy Dog fellow, they'll let you two go?" stated Morgan trying to pull in all her inner strength.

"Not his fight? Morgan if this isn't his fight than who's is it? I understood him to be your man?"

"So did I," spoke Morgan sadly. "At least there's still a chance for your escape."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere." Bowman explained, "My Lord has called me to serve these people. They need to hear the Word of God. Their souls need to be cleansed of sin in order to be saved. But I will do all I can to help you get away Miss," promised Bowman.

"Thank you Mr. Bowman, you are a very brave man. I sure could use your strength. Will you walk out with me?" asked Morgan with a broken voice, offering her hand in Mr. Bowman's direction.

"Of course I will. I will be with you as long as they let me stay," said Bowman as he rose and took her arm.

Taking Mr. Bowman's arm Morgan rose to her feet, brushed the dirt from her dress, straightened her hem and prepared herself for whatever was to come. As Bowman reached out to pull back the flap on the hut a warrior guard pushed him back inside.

"What's wrong?" asked Morgan.

"Look there," Bowman motioned for Morgan to look out the flap and into the distance. "Two men riding into camp. They're white men, riding tall in the saddles. Yes, this is good, show no fear," said Bowman.

"Who are they?" asked Morgan as she moved the flap, pulling the edge back enough to peek out. "Oh my God, no, not him," she groaned.

"You know those men?" asked Bowman.

"Yes," moaned Morgan. "He's going to get himself and all of us killed. At least he's riding with the scout."

"I'll try and go out there and see if I can help moderate. You stay here; I guess you have no choice. See if you can bring him back to his senses," Bowman said as he pointed at Jack, "we may still need him," and with that he stepped out of the tent.

The guard did not stop Bowman when he saw that the girl was remaining behind. Bowman made his way to the circle of Indians and Ray and Zeke. They sat in their saddles as Bowman spoke to the chief. Once he received a nod of the head he turned to the two visitors.

"My name is Bowman. I have come here to save these poor souls. I am not a prisoner or at least I don't think I am. The two that you are looking for are in the hut over there. But the condition of their release is in question. They are still okay, but the man, Jack, does not wish to face his challenge. At least not right now, as he put it. You see, the brave that captured them wants Morgan as his wife," explained Bowman.

"A wife? You must be joking," Ray yelled.

"Take it easy, Ray," said Zeke. "We're still alive and talking."

"Listen to him son, he's right. The problem is that the brave cannot marry Morgan yet because they believe she is married to Jack. So the brave has laid down a challenge to Jack. But due to his fear it appears he will not accepting the challenge."

"Then that means the brave wins and can take Morgan?" Ray asked.

"That's about the size of it," said Bowman looking to the two of them for any suggestions.

"There is only one thing we can do," said Zeke. "Bowman, you have to tell the counsel that Jack is not the husband."

"What, if I do that Crazy Dog will just take her," argued Bowman.

"Wait, let me finish. Tell them that Jack is not the husband but that Coop here is the husband, and he accepts the challenge," spoke Zeke.

"What are you talkin' about? I'm not her husband! Ray said with a look of shock.

"I know that and you know that but they don't," spoke Zeke sternly. "If you have any other ideas I'm listenin'. Doesn't sound like Jack's gonna be doin' any challengin' any time soon. You're her only hope son."

Morgan's mouth dropped as she listened to the conversation from a crack in the flap. "I am going to be an Indian wife. There is no way Ray can defeat a Cherokee Indian warrior, even if he chooses to fight," whispered Morgan.

Ray dismounted as the Indians moved in close on him. Stopping in front of the Chief he signaled to Bowman to join him. "Tell them that I am the husband and I accept the challenge."

Bowman spoke to the tribe in their tongue. When he stopped all the tribal members stared and then began laughing.

"Why are they laughing, Bowman. What's going on?"

"I'm afraid son that they are laughin' at you. They do not believe you will offer much of a challenge for Crazy Dog." said Bowman sympathetically.

"Crazy Dog? Oh crap, that's his name? What have I gotten myself into now? Better, what have YOU gotten me into, Zeke?" Ray said as he shook his head.

"You'll do just fine, Coop," spoke Zeke, trying his best to sound reassuring.

"Well when does this dance begin, tomorrow?" Ray asked.

"I'm afraid the Cherokees are not that patient when it comes to settling a challenge," said Bowman as he directed Ray towards the large center area of the camp.

Standing there waiting for him was Crazy Dog, obviously the largest Indian in the camp, both in height and weight. He was nearly six feet tall, which was very unusual for this tribe, and appeared to be a solid mass of muscle. The look on his face was one of determination and total confidence. As he looked upon his challenger he was already celebrating his victory before the fight had even begun.

Although Ray stood just a few more inches in height, near six feet two and around two hundred pounds, he still had a youthful face especially when compared to the rugged, leathery face of the man who had obviously suffered the burning hot summers and freezing cold winters of the plains with little more than a blanket to protect him from the elements.

Zeke dismounted, dropped his reins and walked over to Ray. "Boy, you ever fight before? I mean to the death?"

"Not really Zeke," Ray replied.

"Remember, in a battle like this, there is no quit. It's kill or be killed. You know what that means?"

"Well sir yes. Don't lose."

"Right...and cheat like hell. Anything and everything goes. This ain't Wisconsin," instructed Zeke. "Here boy, use my knife."

Ray took the knife Zeke offered him. It felt good, fitting firmly into the palm of his hand.

"When you thrust be sure to run it all the way in to the hilt. Then push down on the handle and up very quickly and firmly." Ray's stomach churned with nervousness and anticipation.

With a pat on his back from Zeke, they parted. Ray walked within ten feet of his opponent with Crazy Dog staring at him to intimidate him. Without warning the Indian lunged forward and cut Ray's side with a slashing motion, knocking Ray backwards and flat out onto the ground. There was that laughter again. The braves standing in the circle around the fight began thrusting their spears and knives in Ray's direction, taunting him, and cheering for their warrior. Confident the final blow was sure to come to the white man. Ray jumped back up onto his feet, trying to brace himself for the next onslaught. He didn't have to wait very long. Crazy Dog thrust again, cutting a line of blood on Ray's left forearm. Then he kicked out with his left foot and caught Ray in the stomach, collapsing him to the ground. Crazy Dog moved in and kicked Ray in the face. The blow struck him in the mouth and nose and sent a spray of blood over several of the bystanders. Another cheer went up for their champion.

Believing him to be out of the fight, Crazy Dog reached down and grabbed Ray's left arm. Crazy Dog was intending to run his knife the length of Ray's chest when he suddenly felt a burning in his gut. Crazy Dog was over confident and relishing in his victory. Ray had seen an opening in his defenses. Crazy Dog never anticipated the stab of Ray's knife pushing all the way in to the hilt, then down hard and up. Ray pulled the knife out and stepped back, feeling a warm flow of blood running down his arm. The silence of the tribal circle was deafening. Crazy Dog stared up into the sky, calling to his ancestors, as he fell face first to the ground. A pool of blood began to build under the massive warrior's body. Ray walked painfully to where Zeke stood with a slight smile of intense relief on his face. He held the knife at the ready, not sure if or when the tribe might move in to finish them. Two of the warriors pulled their knives and started forward, but a call from the Chief stopped them in their tracks.

The Chief turned and spoke to Bowman in a very stern voice. Zeke and Ray waited impatiently to hear what he was saying.

Bowman translated to Ray and Zeke with a sparkle in his eyes, "The counsel has spoken. You are to take your wife and the baby man, those are the chiefs words, and go."

"Are you comin' with us Bowman?"

"No, as I told Morgan, this is where I belong."

"You are a good man Bowman. Thank you for helpin' us," Ray said as he extended his hand.

After shaking hands, Ray moved over to the hut. The guard stared back and then gave ground. Ray pulled back the hut flap and extended his hand to Morgan. Speaking softly he said, "Come on Morgan, it's time to go home."

Taking her hand he lifted Morgan gently out of the hut and suppressed a cry from the sharp pain from the slash on his side. He then turned back to Jack and shouted, "Smoot, unless you plan on becomin' a Cherokee, you might want to get up and get on a horse."

Morgan mounted up behind Ray and found the stain of blood on his side. She frantically tried to search Ray's side for the injury.

"I'm fine, Morgan," assured Ray.

"But you're bleeding" cried Morgan.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Right now I just want to get the hell out of here," pushed Ray.

"All right, but you need to have those cuts cleaned, Ray" begged Morgan.

"I will, thank you," finished Ray.

Jack crawled up behind Zeke, and they all headed toward the wagon train.

They were all concerned that the Cherokee might regret their decision to let them go or that a couple companions of Crazy Dog would decide to get revenge. The ride back started out quiet with each of them constantly checking their back trail. But after a couple hours in the saddle their fears began to wane and relief flowed over them. Morgan burst into laughter first and then buried her face into Ray's back and sobbed.

Jack started to spew a river of excuses for his lack of action on Morgan's behalf. There would be no shutting him up until, in his own mind; he believed he had convinced the three he had done all that he could do. His greeting at the wagon camp would make or break his reputation.

Ray couldn't really condemn Jack for what he had done or failed to do. Who knows, if he had had a way out of fighting Crazy Dog, maybe he would have done the same thing. But he knew he would always choose to fight for Morgan even if she didn't choose to fight for him.

Arriving in the camp they soon realized that the women immediately heard what had happened and surrounded Morgan, whisking her off to comfort her. They all knew the horror stories of what Indians did to captive white women and were relieved to hear she had not been touched. But there were those who always enjoyed a juicy story and disappointedly walked away from the circle of women.

After being asked over and over, Morgan finally gave in and told her story of what happened. She left out of course most of Jack Smoot's involvement, only saying that he had done all he could. But the women discerned by the look of disappointment on Morgan's face that he had failed her.

Ray however fared much better. Word soon spread around camp that he was some kind of great Indian fighter who had rode into the Indian camp and rescued the damsel in distress.

-CKS-

John Lane rode parallel with the wagon train for a couple days to confirm that Ray Cooper and his party were staying with the wagons into Ft. Laramie. Once he was sure of his prey, his pace increased into a gallop. No reasons to spend another night sleeping on the cold ground when he could rent a cot or bed at the next stop and wait them out. Lane decided he was the only pursuer and no new rivals were on his back trail. He was pretty sure the Cooper party would head south once they reached Salt Lake City, while the rest of the wagon train would continue west to Northern California or Oregon. That many people all traveling together would make for too many witnesses. No, he would wait to finish it out in the desert. There would be no one around and no one to interfere, ensuring the odds to be in his favor.

-CKS-

The next few days Ray noticed a difference in the way Morgan spoke to him. She seemed kinder, friendlier, but still just a little standoffish. He, of course, took this as a good sign. Apparently Jack Smoot did not. The situation was getting a little dicey. When Ray approached the dinner fires Morgan would extend a warm meal in his direction, nothing more than she would do for any of the other men she was indifferent to. But for Ray that was monumental. She used to ignore him before even if the two were sitting at the fire together, and that scenario was usually short lived. Morgan would immediately rise and make her retreat.

Ray didn't believe anyone else in the camp would have recognized this new behavior except for himself and Jack Smoot. Ray was very much aware of Jack's presence since he had fought for the girl that Jack should have fought for.

When Ray spoke to John and Larry about Morgan warming up to him they both laughed.

"All you've done, Ray is to get that girl from wantin' to hire a bunch of rough necks to throw you out of camp, to just toleratin' you," laughed John even harder.

"I tell you, she is warmin' up to me. I can tell," said Ray as the boys began to bed down for the night.

"Ray, you still don't know anything about women," laughed Larry as he slapped Ray's shoulder with his hand. "The only woman you better be thinkin' about is the one you left back in Wisconsin. Now that's a girl to reckon with."

"I couldn't agree more. I have to say that every once in awhile the hair on the back of my neck stands up just thinkin' about what's ahead of us or behind us. She's not the type of girl to quit. She'll keep comin' and comin' till we're dead or she is," said Ray.

The boys began to whisper so as not to disturb Laurie sleeping above them in her wagon.

"You mean you think one of us is gonna have to kill her?" asked Larry with a worried look on his face. "Do you know what they do to men who hurt women?"

"I'm not promisin' one of us is gonna have to do the deed, only it seems to be a strong possibility. Now, I think we better all get some sleep. We're gonna be pushing hard tomorrow in hopes of reaching Ft. Laramie before dark." Ray concluded.

"That'll be some doin' but barrin' any unforeseen problems I figure we can do it," spoke Larry as he scratched his chin.

"Well then, with Larry's blessin', I'll see you boys in the mornin'," said John as he walked toward one of the small fires.

"Very funny," said Larry as he headed for the bushes.

As they all bedded down for the night a small pretty face looked out from her wagon. She owed these boys a lot. After all Ray Cooper had saved her from a life as a saloon woman, and the boys all had introduced her to Richard.

Laurie knew the boys were right; the West would never stand for a man shooting down a woman, even if it seemed the woman probably needed shooting. When the time came she told herself she would need to be ready.

The next morning came around awful early. "Let's go boy," greeted Zeke.

Yes sir, I'll grab my horse and gear and meet you up front." Ray rose and headed for the horse remuda. There he separated out his horse from the herd. Horse was a very tall, strong quarter horse with a rich black coat and two small brown patches; one over each eye that raised and lowered with each of his emotions. A twin patch of brown also showed just at the bottom of his legs above the hoof.

Ray threw a saddle on Horse's back, placing the bridle into his mouth quickly to save his finger. Ray could tell by the way his horse stood each morning, waiting for the saddle and bridle what he would be going through before they could hit the trail. His horse never really liked the bridle and basically put up with it out of respect for Ray. He wasn't very crazy about the saddle either but Ray wasn't about to ride bareback. One of them had to yield and after throwing Ray many times, Horse had reluctantly decided to give in.

Zeke and Ray headed west toward Ft. Laramie. Even though Zeke was quite confident the wagons could make it he was anxious about making it as soon as he had hoped. The train was badly in need of supplies and the morale was starting to wear a little thin.

"I figure they got about sixteen or seventeen miles to go today," said Zeke as he looked out towards the Platte River. Havin' that there river runnin' next to us makes the travelin' a lot easier. The animals can keep movin' longer and they don't have to carry a bunch of water in the wagons. Once you boys turn south you'll not have that luxury anymore."

"How did you know we were gonna be goin' south? I wasn't even sure of that fact yet, myself."

"Well boy, it's the best way to go for a rider on horseback trying to get to California real quick," smiled Zeke.

"Well I guess it can't hurt to talk to you about it. You see Zeke, John, Larry and me have been ridin' together from Wisconsin."

"And Richard and Laurie?" ask Zeke.

"Well, we kinda picked them up in Missouri."

"You runnin' away from somethin' in Wisconsin?"

"Damn Zeke, would you let me talk. We're really not so much runnin' away from somethin' in Wisconsin as trying to find..."

"Your Ma," interrupted Zeke.

"Now how in the hell did you know that?"

"Well shucks boy, when you first got here you went from every wagon and every tent askin' if anyone had seen her. That's when I figured you'd be in a hurry to get to California on account you figured that's where your Ma would be." Zeke concluded.

"Is there anything that doesn't miss your attention, Zeke?"

Zeke gave Ray a sly glance. "Not much boy. That's how I've stayed alive."

"What made you think of us turnin' south?"

"A woman alone won't likely be headed to the gold fields unless she was of a sort, and I dun ruled that out. She could be going to San Francisco, but I'm thinkin' Southern California. If you don't know where she is I'd start there and work my way up California. Besides, they got a drink down there they call Tequila. Well boy, I'll tell ya, it's worth the ride. The women are awful pretty, too. Hell I may give up this train and join ya. Move out there Betsy, we have a ways to go and I'm gettin' thirsty," said Zeke as he licked his lips.

### Chapter 17

### The Mill Lives Again

"What are we gonna do Doc? I don't remember a day when I couldn't hear the mill runnin'," said one of the lumbermen sitting around in Doc's front yard.

"I know what you mean, it's awful quiet. I guess I really didn't want to believe Miss Foster was gonna go through with it," answered Doc.

"She did it in spades, Doc. Packed up her belongings, locked up the mansion, and had old Gus put a match to the mill," said a large tree of a man with newly developed slumping shoulders.

"Pure spite and evilness, Rex, that's all it was," said Doc as he shook his head in disbelief. "I guess maybe she was afraid we'd start up the mill once she was gone."

With all staring at the ground in a fit of despair, a thought began to wind itself around and through each one sitting there.

Doc was the first to put words to the thought, "What about some kind of Co-op? Since settin' a match to the mill would tell a reasonable man that Miss Foster no longer wanted any of the contents, I would say that any salvage would be open to anyone who could use it. There maybe a couple blades that are still in good enough shape to be used along with a lot of other tools. I've got a little money saved up and I suspect we all have something we could invest into the operation."

"Yes Doc, by God you're right!" said the group in unison.

"The property just behind the Cooper place was never purchased by the Fosters. Hell we could re-build the mill there and carry the equipment over. We wouldn't have to uproot the settlement at all."

A shout went up from the gathering as the revelation of their salvation was at hand.

"Now we need to plan this thing out good and proper," said Doc as he rubbed his two hands together. "We'll need to establish a man to run the operation and a counsel to oversee that man."

"We'll run it just like they do back in Washington DC!" came a voice from the back.

"I vote for Doc to be that man!" came another voice.

Many voices chimed in, "Yes Doc would be perfect, I agree, Doc is the one."

"Hold on, hold on!" said Doc as he raised his hands for quiet. "Already we're headed toward error. We must make this official; we will have an election that will vote in the man we need to run this camp. Everyone needs to have a say," explained Doc.

The group began to crowd in to discuss their future enterprise. Word soon spread and the rest of the settlement came running in the direction of Doc's home, full of hope and excitement.

-CKS-

"So Miss Foster, thank you for allowing me to accompany you to New York. I will stay with you until you are safely aboard ship. I will then tender my resignation and find work more suited to my station," spoke Phillip respectfully.

"Nonsense, besides, we're not going to New York, Phillip," said Samantha as if there was no need for further discussion.

"But I thought you said you were going to California. For a lady, the only way is by ship," explained Phillip.

"Our plans involve the hiring of an Overland Stage to take us to Southern California."

"Our plans, Miss Foster?" questioned Phillip with a sick feeling growing in his stomach.

"Our plans, Phillip. We must be in California before Cooper arrives. By the time we catch a train headed east, book passage on a steamer, wait for its departure, and then the long sail down around the horn and up to California, we could be too late to greet Cooper with our little surprise," smiled Samantha.

Phillip had seen that smile before. It caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

"But Miss, it was my intention to find other work now that you are no longer of need of my services. I'm a house servant madam and that is all I know."

"Well Phillip, we're both going to be learning new things, aren't we. You promised my Pa that you would look after me and I'm holding you to that promise."

"But Miss, I don't believe he had any of this in mind. He meant for me to keep your house in top shape not ride off to California in a stage coach wagon," whined Phillip.

"Hush now Phillip, and make this carriage go faster. I want to be in Missouri and at the Overland station as soon as possible."

"But why a stage coach and why Southern California?" Phillip inquired.

"Gus told me after I provided him with some moving capital, that Mrs. Cooper, Ray's mother, headed for Pueblo de Los Angeles to live with her sister. Cooper and his bunch of murderers must need money so they're working their way by wagon train across the plains. The gunmen I hired sent me a wire just before they left that said Cooper was still with a wagon train due into Ft Laramie any day. But once at Salt Lake City, they should move to horseback and ride the southern route to California. The Overland promises twenty-two to twenty-five days to California. I should be able to get there with time to spare."

"Yes Miss, I can see your thinking. It does however, place me in an awkward position, as there will be no other type of employ for me out there, and with my promise to your Pa, I guess I am in this to the bloody end," sighed Phillip, feeling trapped with no way out.

"Phillip, I have never heard you speak like that before. "To the bloody end?" questioned Samantha.

"By the time this is over Miss, I believe you will see and hear a lot of things you have never heard before. Getty up there!" said Phillip as he snapped the whip in the air over the horse's backs.

### Chapter 18

### Fort Laramie

Zeke and Ray had ridden half the day when they approached a small rise. Ray could tell they were close to water by the smell in the air. As they rode up to the top of the rise they could see a slowly flowing river with Ft. Laramie just beyond.

The fort was founded by fur traders, along the Laramie River, just about a mile from where it forked with the Platte River. Within the sun dried clay walls of the fort, the hunters and trappers for the American Fur Company brought their bounty. Even after the trading post was taken over by the Government in 1849 it continued on as a valuable trading location.

Reaching Ft. Laramie for most was going to be a time of great decision, whether to continue on testing themselves to achieve the dream of a great future or to return to face the neighbors and family that would be ready to tell them they were fools for ever having attempted it. The fort was considered by most to be the point of no return and to others as the gateway of the Sierras.

Travel had been difficult up to this point but nothing could come close to what was ahead. The trail was going to be a test of their inner strength. The strong would become stronger and move on, while the weak would become weaker and fall along the trail.

Weight on the wagon would play a life and death role from here on out. Too much weight could damage the wagon wheels or the axles could easily snap under too heavy a load. A mule, horse, or ox could go down under the extra burden. Out on the trail replacing a wagon or stock would be next to impossible making everything you had with you of great value. Here would be the place for anyone forging ahead to sell off anything that was not absolutely necessary.

The reduction of excess supplies would also bring cash money that would be needed at the end of the trail. If there was no money in Ft. Laramie to purchase their excess goods than perhaps the travelers could trade for what they needed.

"Well boy, there she is. Ft Laramie. Ain't she a beaut'?" asked Zeke.

"I never saw so many wagons in all my life. They cover every square inch of that flat ground. And the fort's walls must be twenty feet high." Ray said with enthusiasm.

"Can't be too high when arrows start flyin' in your direction," joked Zeke.

"Alright boy. Let's ride down and see if we can stake out a spot for our group to camp."

They rode up and down several ravines and small hills until they found a spot that suited them.

"This here spot should be good enough. Plenty of graze and water for the stock and lots of flat ground for the wagons," pointed Zeke with a sweeping hand. "Now only one of us needs to stay here and guard this here spot. The other could go on over to the fort and wet his whistle."

"Go ahead Zeke, I'll keep an eye on the spot until the wagons show up," Ray said, knowingly.

"You're a good partner Ray. You'll do to ride the river with," smiled Zeke as he turned his horse and rode off towards the fort, licking his lips.

Because it was going to be a long wait for the wagons, Ray decided to strip the saddle and blanket off Horse, letting him roll in the grass first before hobbling him. Although the ground was covered in a nice layer of tall grass, the ground itself was hard as rock. There wasn't a log or tree stumped to sit on anywhere within eyeshot. The blanket and saddle would have to do for his chair until better accommodations rolled in.

After a few hours out in the sun with his backside sitting on the blanket and his back resting against the saddle, Ray nodded off to sleep. He saw his Pa sitting at the mill talking and laughing with all of his friends. Ma was waiting for him and handed Ray a fresh slice of apple pie and rubbed the top of his head while he ate it. He loved how she used to do that. Her soft hands just flowed across his head with such a loving touch. Even as he dreamt he missed them almost to tears. Then from inside the house he heard a couple of horses riding up. Breaking the spell Ma had placed over him he headed to the door to see who was there.

As he opened the door of their family's cabin he began to wake from his slumber. With his hat still pulled down over his eyes to help him sleep and keep the sun off his face, he could tell there were horses standing directly in front of him.

"This looks like a nice spot Pete," said one of the riders.

"I believe you're right Buck, the only problem I see, is that it looks like this here fella is sittin' right smack dab in front of us. Must think he's got this spot all staked out," sneered Pete.

Buck smiled at his partner, "Well Jack, what do you reckon we ought a do bout' that?"

"I guess we'll just have to ask him real nice like to move on," laughed Pete.

"I recon you're right. Hey boy! You think it would be too much trouble for you to pick up your stuff and get the hell off our spot?" snickered Buck.

Without moving a muscle Ray spoke from under the brim of his hat, "I guess you boys must ride for the Quincy Wood's wagons. Surprised I never saw you on the trail before."

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about boy, and I ain't never heard of no damn Quincy Woods. Now get your shit picked up and get moving!" ordered Buck.

"I guess then you're some confused boys. This area will be covered by wagons from the Quincy Woods train within the next couple hours. But thanks for stopping by and to say hello," Ray said as he tried to go back to sleep.

"Damn it boy, you done pushed me beyond my breakin' point. Now you light a shuck right now or you're in for an ass whippin' like you ain't never had before!" threatened Buck.

Ray was starting to get angry himself, but his Pa always taught him that if you're fixin' to get into a fight let the other fella lose his head. You stay calm and think about what needs doing. He also remembered what Zeke had taught him, "there's no such thing as fightin' fair, you fight to win or nothing." Now he knew that he might be able to talk his way out of a scrap but he was tired, bone tired. After riding all morning, for several mornings, he was not in the mood to be pushed around by these two cowboys.

He slowly pushed the brim of his hat to the top of his head so he could look up at his adversaries. Looking them both directly in the eye, Ray began to rise from his rock hard blanket. Facing the men still on horseback he stretched the cobwebs from his afternoon nap, and walked over to within just a couple feet of the riders, "boys you wanted to open this dance, now either you two apologize to me and ride on or I suggest we get on with it."

"Son-of-a-bitch, Pete. This boy is really askin' for it," spouted Buck.

"I think it's about time you stopped flappin' your jaw and get down here. Now do you feel like getting whooped one at a time or both of you together?" Ray said without cracking a smile. He was dead serious and didn't give a damn.

Both men looked at each other like one would look before stepping into a dark hole filled with rattlers. But they had made their brag and there was no way to back out, especially for Buck.

"Okay Boy, if this is the way you want it. We tried to give you the choice to ride on but you chose a whoopin', SO HERE IT COMES!" yelled Buck as he jumped from his horse. With all his weight behind him, Buck was hoping to crush Ray into the hard ground. Fortunately Ray was ready for him as Buck leaped towards him, Ray stepped back and raised his knee directly into his face. You could hear the undeniable sound of Buck's nose breaking as blood flew out in all directions. Buck hit the ground and with a great groan looked to Ray as if he may have even broken or cracked a rib when he hit the ground. Before he could rise Ray landed a blow with his boot against the very spot he heard the cracking noise from the man's chest. As he rolled over onto his back holding his rib and cringing in pain, Buck looked to be out of the fight, at least for now. Ray turned to face the other rider only to find him already dismounted and standing directly in front of him. His right fist was incoming and Ray didn't have enough warning to dodge it. It made full contact on his chin and sent him over backwards in a daze. As Ray placed his right arm under him and pushed up to regain his feet, Pete's boot made contact with his jaw, sending Ray flying over onto his back. Lying there for a moment he tried to regain his senses. Pete reached down for Ray and lifted him back up to his feet. "Boy, you got a lot a fight in ya, I got to respect that, but I don't respect someone who don't count the odds before he takes a bite." And with that Pete pulled back his right arm and launched a mean right cross. But this time Ray had fair warning and as the punch came roaring in, he dropped to his knees, freeing himself from Pete's grip as he watched his hand fly over his head. With a strong, solid elbow, Ray landed a hit right where Jack buttoned his britches. As he was doubling over Ray rose, placed both hands on the back of Pete's head and drove his face into Ray's rising knee. He hit him so hard that at first Ray was afraid he might have killed him. Pete's head flipped back from the concussion and his body followed him over backwards, hitting the ground unconscious. Ray stumbled back from the battle long enough to wipe the blood flowing from his lip and survey his handy work. Neither cowboy moved a muscle; both were going to be out for quite awhile. Ray moved over close to make sure they were both still here among the living. Figuring they'd both be fine after a few bones had a chance to heal, Ray admitted to himself that the fight had made him feel a little better about all the crap he had been going through. Ray looked around the area and saw his hat lying on the ground near where Buck had tried to jump him. He stumbled over and picked it up. Whacking it a couple times on his leg to get the grass and dirt off he returned it to his head. On wobbly legs he worked his way back to his rock hard makeshift bed and lay down. Gingerly he lifted himself up with his elbows and eased his back against the saddle pillow. Pulling his hat back down over his eyes Ray tried desperately to return to his Wisconsin dream.

Once again he was awakened, but this time it was by the sound of wagons approaching. He pushed his hat brim back in order to see where they were on the horizon. Interestingly enough, both Jack and Buck had remounted and rode off quietly enough not to wake him.

"Hey boy! Here comes the wagons!" yelled Zeke as he approached on horseback. "Did you have any trouble?"

"None to speak of, Zeke," Ray answered slowly.

"Well you must have tore up this ground here while you were tryin' to bloody your own lip," smiled Zeke.

Ray licked his lip only to cringe at a small sharp pain, "Well, you see Zeke, there was this grizzle bear that tried to mosey into our space. When he wouldn't move on, it got pretty ugly," Ray lied.

"That's exactly what I thought must have happened," said Zeke, knowing all too well what had happened and feeling a little bad that he had not been there to side his partner. "Let's get you mounted and go out to meet the wagons. They'll be plum tuckered out and ready for some grub."

Ray brought Horse back over to his gear, threw the saddle over his back and set the bridle in his mouth. He swung a leg over Horse's back and turned him toward the approaching wagons.

### Chapter 19

### Revenge Requires Two Graves

The ride in the stagecoach was nearly unbearable for Phillip. To add insult to injury, he didn't want to be going out West. The stage was filled to the ceiling with mailbags. Samantha had paid a high price to travel in a coach with no other passengers, but failed to realize that the line would fill that empty space with the mail that was backing up in the office. The front facing seat was buried with a wall of mail not more than a foot from the miserable passengers' knees.

"Miss Foster, why do we have to endure this miserable trip? It can't be all about revenge, can it? I mean you're not putting me through all this just so you can avenge your Pa's death? Are you?" whined Phillip.

"Phillip, you disappoint me. You have been in our home all my life, since my Pa was a young man, and yet you have learned nothing of the Fosters. No one, but no one, ever gets the upper hand on a Foster. I will pursue Cooper to the ends of the earth to see him suffer for what he has done to me," swore Samantha.

Phillip was almost afraid to continue the line of conversation as he became aware that his mistress once again appeared to be losing touch with reality. The thought of two more weeks in this coach was beyond his endurance.

"Miss Foster, there is an old saying, that when one begins on the trail of revenge they should first dig two graves."

"Very profound Phillip," Samantha said, her voice thick with condescension. "I suppose that one grave is for Cooper and the other is supposed to be for me?" Samantha smirked. "Well as long as he ends up in one of them."

Knowing he was not reaching her and that with every bump in the road he moved further and further from where he wanted to be, Phillip laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

"We'll be stopping soon to change the horses!" yelled the conductor sitting next to the driver up in the box. "Don't wander off. Get something to eat and drink and high tail it back to the coach. We don't want to get off schedule."

"Conductor?" asked Phillip leaning his head out the left side of the coach. "When do we stop to sleep? Where are the hotels along the line?"

"Mister, this here coach runs all day and all night. On this run I can only promise ya a seat to sit on, some bread, tea, fried or jerked steaks or whatever the stage stop has on hand. Of course the food'll cost ya extra. If this coach stops it's only cause we got trouble with the horses, trouble with the coach, or them damn Injuns done killed us all. So sit back and enjoy the ride. It's gonna be a long one."

Phillip wanted to pull out his little side arm and place a neatly directed bullet right into his brain.

-CKS-

The next morning the wagon train's people were all moving a little slower, enjoying their rest stop at Ft. Laramie. Because of the scarcity of firewood they spent most of their time collecting buffalo chips. Firewood was always preferred for obvious reasons, and chips burned fast and hot, requiring quite a few to keep the fires burning.

Wagons had a piece of canvas stretched out underneath the wagon's bed that held buffalo chips. Children would collect the chips as they walked along the plains. But sitting in an area like this and not moving, the collectors had to go further out to find the chips. That left the children out, as it was not safe for them to wander that far. The buffalo chip collecting would be left up to the adults.

After their day of collecting, John, Ray and Larry decided to walk on into the fort to quench their thirst and see if any mail from Wisconsin or California had arrived in response to Ray's letters.

The mail office was, like many others, housed in the corner of the general store. Behind the counter was the storekeeper's wife. She looked as though she had been dragged up and down the trail a hundred times. Not necessarily an ugly woman, just very homely and worn out. Ray was almost afraid to approach the counter when she spoke out, "Come on boy, I ain't standin' back here for my health. Are you sendin' or receivin'?"

"Pardon?" Ray asked with great caution.

"Sendin' or receivin' boy, it can't be any clearer than that!" she scolded.

"Oh, I'm receivin', or at least I'm hopin' that I'm receivin'," he said with a forced smile, trying to break the tension.

"Everybody here is hopin' to receive news from somewhere, boy. You ain't somethin' special!" she said.

"No Ma'am, I mean, yes Ma'am, I mean..." Ray stammered out.

"Just shut up and tell me your name boy," she said as she turned to the stacks of mail behind her.

"Ray Cooper, Ma'am".

"Ray Cooper, Ray Cooper," she repeated as she thumbed her way through the stack of mail.

Finally she arrived at a letter addressed to Ray. Pulling from the stack she turned with a look of victory on her face for having found a letter, "Here you go boy, you're one of the lucky ones," she said as she tossed the letter onto the counter, turned and walked away. Ray grabbed the letter and quickly walked outside to meet up with Larry and John. He was never happier to leave a place than that store. With the unopened letter stuck in his back pocket, Ray and his friends walked out of the general store and headed over to the saloon.

Upon the approach to the saloon they were welcomed by the sound of men playing cards, women laughing, and an old piano being punished by a man in a white boiled shirt. The tinny tones of the musical instrument burned holes into their ears. Once inside, the music, laughter and voices all joined into a chorus of excitement.

Walking across the busy floor the three of them moved in formation, careful not to make eye contact with any of the patrons in the room so as to avoid any potential conflict.

Traversing the room they arrived at the center of the bar. Men stood in a row along both sides, shoulder against shoulder, all the way to each end. After ordering their beers they turned slowly to face the room. They were still very unsure of what provoked some people to want to fight in these types of surroundings.

Scanning the room they noticed it was filled with all sorts of interesting characters.

To their right and in the far corner was a table with five occupied chairs. A man wearing a black broadcloth suit with a string tie over a white shirt was in the chair facing them. He seemed to be a little over dressed considering the surroundings. The other four were wearing typical trail clothes that appeared to be new for the most part, giving one the impression they may have some money. Some of which the man in the black broadcloth was trying to claim. There were six other tables in the room all busy with activity. The three tables out in front of them and to the left were all filled with Cavalrymen playing cards and grabbing at the saloon girls. It was quite apparent that the civilians stayed on the right side, Calvary on the left. The remaining table, to their right had a mix of men all sitting alone.

Ray's eyes were suddenly drawn to a commotion in the far left corner where two cavalrymen began to argue.

"Paul, you son of a bitch, you're cheatin' again. You remember what I told you I'd do if I caught you cheatin' again?" yelled a man that could have been Richard's twin brother.

"Now Hans, I was not cheatin'. Now sit down and let's play cards," said Paul.

"Paul, there are five aces on the table right now and the ace up the sleeve was always your favorite trick, even though you stink at it," accused Hans.

"Okay, okay, you caught me Hans. I was just messin' with ya. That's the only time I ever used it today. Now sit down, you haven't lost any money by me cheatin'. Can't you take a joke Hans? I was only funnin' ya," said Paul as he could see the rage begin to build in Hans.

Hans quickly reached across the table knocking Paul's hat off. Grabbing him by a fist-full of hair he dragged him over the table and on to the floor in front of him. As Paul tried to rise from the floor men pulled chairs and tables out of the way of the fight. Hans' fist met Paul's face with a thundering blow. His neck made a sick-cracking sound as his head flew back, and his body fell flat onto the floor. Paul's eyes rolled back into his head. Realizing the severity of this fight, the other Cavalrymen started to move in to break it up. But for Paul, they were too late. Hans raised his boot and brought the heel down hard onto Paul's face. The sound of the splitting skull turned many of the faces quickly away. Paul's legs kicked a couple times and then fell still. Most of the patrons stood in horror at Hans' cruelty. Others, apparently used to this type of behavior, ignored the dead body and pulled their chairs and tables back into place. The patrons returned to what they were doing before the fight had started. Hans returned to his table, sat down in his chair and resumed playing cards. Within minutes the place was back to normal except for the four-armed soldiers that enter the saloon. They moved in around Hans and asked him to rise.

"What for, he was cheatin'?" said Hans.

"Tell it to the Captain, Hans," said the officer in charge.

"Okay, okay, I ain't got no fight with you boys," said Hans as he turned to face the boys around the table. "Don't none of you touch my cards, I'll be right back."

Hans walked out of the saloon surrounded by his escorts. The remaining gamblers at Hans' table sat staring at his cards wondering what to do. They knew he was going to the brig and would not be back, but none of them dared touch his cards for fear he might return. One by one they set their cards down on the table and walked out of the saloon.

"Good God, did you guys see that?" asked Larry while the three of them turned their backs to the room.

"No Larry, we missed the whole damn thing, of course we saw it. We're standin' right next to you," said John with a disgusted look on his face.

"Ain't no one gonna get a doctor?" questioned Larry, ignoring John's comment.

"Larry, that guy doesn't need a doctor. All he needs is an undertaker. That Hans guy just busted in his skull. I ain't never seen the likes of it before. I'm keepin' a wide distance from that fella," promised John.

As they finished their beers a group of soldiers walked in carrying a cot. Un-ceremonially they rolled the dead soldier onto the canvas and marched him out.

"Poor bastard got himself killed over a card game," Ray whispered to his friends.

"That's right asshole, over a card game. That dumb shit was a friend of mine. Hans had no call to kill him like that, cheatin' or not," announced a man standing a few feet away from Ray's right side.

"Look mister, I don't want any trouble. I was only sayin' what a waste to die at a game of cards," Ray said.

"Well maybe you say too much. You better fill your hand right quick cause I'm gonna kill you."

As the stranger grabbed for the handle on his gun, he found himself looking down the barrel of Ray's .44 already out of the leather and cocked. His eyes went dull and his face whitened. "Jesus" was all that escaped his lips.

"Mister, like I said, I'm not lookin' for trouble. Your friend's death was a tragedy. Now holster your piece and walk on out of here."

The stranger slowly complied and let his gun drop back into its resting place. He then cautiously picked up his hat from the bar and placed it on his head. Never taking his eyes off the barrel of Ray's gun, he turned and nodding for his friends and they all walked on out of the bar, never looking back.

The light from the open doors gave Ray a clear view down to the end of the bar. Standing against the corner was the man in black. He raised his shot glass in a slight salute then pushed the whiskey into his mouth and down his throat. He then turned back to the bar and poured another glass.

With the stranger out of sight and the man in black facing the bar, Ray turned back to his friends and holstered his .44.

"Ray, when the hell did you get so fast?" asked John. "I remember you were always foolin' around with that gun your Pa had, but I never saw you draw."

"Look John, I used to go out into the birch trees and practice drawin' and shootin'. It was more of a game or you know somethin' to do. I never thought I'd have to use it to keep myself alive. I don't want to kill anyone John. I wish they'd just stop pressin' me."

"It'll be okay Ray, once we get to California," said Larry, knowing full well that going to California wasn't going to change the kind of men that crawled around the West looking for a fight.

"What does the letter in your pocket say, Ray?" asked Larry trying to change the subject.

"I'd forgotten all about it," Ray said as he pulled the letter out and tore it open.

"Who's it from?" asked John.

"It's from Doc back in Wisconsin. Holy shit, Doc says that Samantha Foster torched the mill and is taking a stage for California."

"Torched the mill?" spoke Larry. "Hell, she can't do that. Those people depended on that mill for a livin'."

"Wait, wait, wait, I think it's gonna be okay. Doc goes on to say that even though Samantha tried to burn down the mill they are rebuilding it on a piece of property the settlement bought together. He says they'll do fine. Gus has high tailed it out of there. They figure he was the one hired to burn the mill down. Doc says he's saving our cabin in case we ever want to come back."

"Come back?" whispered John. "Shit we can't go back there. Every marshal in the state would be lookin' for us for murder."

"Apparently not; Doc says that Miss Foster told the marshal that her Pa's death was an accident."

"Now why would she do that?" said John as he stared into his beer. Maybe she's turned over a new leaf and figured out it wasn't really our fault."

"The man standin' at the end of the bar tells me differently, John. Now I'm sure of it. She hired a couple men to come after us. She told the marshal it was an accident because she wants to kill us herself or at least have the satisfaction of being the one who pays to have us killed."

Both John and Larry looked over his shoulder and spotted the man in black drinking at the end of the bar.

"Shit, I think you're right Ray. There he is in all his glory," said Larry.

"What are we gonna do?" asked John.

"What can we do? We finish our drinks and from here to California we watch our backs," said Ray.

"Why is Miss Foster headed for California?" asked John.

"I was thinking about that. It could be for anything. Maybe she just wants to be there when it happens." Ray said.

"When what happens?" asked Larry.

"Try and keep up, won't you Larry," said John. "When the Man in Black over there makes his move."

"All I can say is, Ray, keep practicin', because I think we're gonna need your gun before this is all done," stated Larry.

### Chapter 20

### Ida Potts

It was well after dark when John, Larry, and Ray, walked into the light of their dinner fires. Most had already eaten and some were even fast asleep. It had taken a lot of work and thought to get all the wagons into the space allotted them on the plain. The Potts wagon wheel had broken and blocked several wagons from getting into position, taking much longer than it usually would have. The Potts had traveled all the way from New York without any trouble with that wagon until it was pitch dark in the narrow alleyway which all of the wagons had to get through. Ray didn't know the Potts family. He did, however, have what he considered to be the privilege of talking with young Ida Potts during one of the nightly campfire gatherings. The boys collapsed around the pot of stew that was left simmering over the fire. One of the ladies nearby spotted them and scolded them for helping themselves after having worked so hard. She filled three plates high and placed a couple of large slices of homemade bread on top. With a cup of coffee and plates in hand, they didn't speak for another twenty minutes, their plates were licked clean, much to the delight of their fine hostess, and their cups were re-filled with cowboy coffee, thick, dark, strong, and hot.

"Did you boys hear the news?" asked their hostess as she began to collect their dishes.

"No Ma'am, what news would that be?" asked Larry.

"Mr. Woods told us we'd be held up here for a couple days waiting our turn to enter the trail because of some poor weather. So us ladies decided we'd set up a dance. You three are invited," she said with much enthusiasm.

"Oh, I don't know," all three of them said in unison.

"What's wrong, don't you like dances?" asked the hostess who held the look of someone who just lost a family member.

"Well yes, I guess so, it's just that, well, hell, none of us can dance, Ma'am. Pardon my language Ma'am," explained Larry as he looked away, embarrassed.

"Why, you boys don't have to worry about that, you'll get the hang of it. You just have to jump in there and have fun," smiled their hostess as she poured more coffee. Ray was deep in thought. He wasn't sure if he was distracted from having worked so hard during the day or from the thought of dancing with Miss Morgan Adams. Leaving the eating area to prepare for bed, Ray passed by the Potts' wagon. Once more Mr. Potts was quick to thank Ray and the others for helping them with their wagon wheel. Ray noticed a small group had gathered around the Potts' campfire as Mr. Potts motioned for Ray to come and share some coffee. Ray sat alongside the Potts' young daughter, Ida. She was quick to smile and loved to chatter away.

At age 10, like so many other children, Ida Potts had already walked half way across this great country on foot. It didn't seem to have slowed her down a bit and she had told every one of her family's plans of starting a new home up in Oregon. They wanted to take advantage of the cooler weather and more rainfall for the type of crops they hoped to grow. Ida would talk to everyone around the campfire about how she was going to help her Ma and Pa build that ranch. Ray could see how her energy and excitement radiated in her eyes. When it was time for bed, one could not help but feel a little more excited about what was to come.

-CKS-

The evening of the dance came quicker than the boys had hoped as they stood on the edge of a makeshift dance floor. Each was wearing the new Sunday going to meeting clothes they had bought at the general store. People were dancing in the middle of the floor holding hands, smiling, laughing, and having more fun than they had had in months. Ray could hardly recognize some of the people as their faces had transformed from tired and trail worn, to illuminated by smiles filled with joy. At first Ray hadn't wanted to come. But now he hoped this happy scene would never end.

Up at the end of the dance floor standing on several stacked boxes were a couple of men with fiddles. Another man stood with a round looking guitar Ray had never seen or heard before. They were playing a fast tune and calling out dance steps to the excited dancers. Ray felt like a kid standing next to a cold lake wanting to join the others in the water, but afraid of the shock upon entering the water. Just then he felt a tug on his sleeve. Looking down he saw little Ida Potts in a pretty pink dress, right hand holding the seam of the dress, and with a confident smile.

"I don't believe I have a partner for this dance, Mr. Ray," came a small voice that sounded like it had a frog in it. She always called him Mr. Ray. Ray guessed it was because she didn't know how to address someone that wasn't as old as her parents or as young as her.

"Why Miss Potts, I would consider it a pleasure," Ray said as he bowed and took her arm in his and they walked out onto the floor. "Miss Potts, I have to warn you that I don't know the first thing about dancin'."

"Me either, but it looked like everyone was having so much fun, I had to jump in," laughed Ida.

They joined hands and with arms stretched straight out, began to dance in circles around the floor. Ida laughed and laughed, and then she stopped suddenly looking up at Ray, "you like Morgan Adams, don't you Mr. Ray?"

"Well I don't know where you got that idea, Miss Potts."

"I may be just a child but I see things. I like to watch people. I don't think Miss Adams' beau is very nice, I hope you become her beau," Ida declared.

And with that she began to twirl Ray around and around again.

They reached their starting point after several rotations of the floor when Ida stopped suddenly again. "You know Mr. Ray, I believe I have taken up quite enough of your time. I should share you with the other pretty girls." Ida released Ray's hands, curtsied, and stepped beside him. She then proceeded to take John's hands, dragging him out onto the floor. Ray bowed back as John complained about leaving the safe hiding spot he had found for himself off the dance floor.

Ida spun around once with John, looked back at Ray, and tossed her head in the direction of the stage, before continuing to swirl with her laughing partner.

Ray looked in the direction she indicated. There, standing alone, was Morgan. He quickly looked back at Ida. She was smiling back at Ray as she swirled John around the dance floor.

Ray began to pull in all the courage he could muster. He began the long walk across the floor. Within forty feet of her, he caught her eye. Did he detect a bit of a smile? He thought as his confidence began to build. There it is again. She looked at him, looked away, and then looked at him again, as if she was waving him to her side.

Ray was almost walking on air when Jack Smoot stepped up to her from her right handing her a drink. She looked in Ray's direction one last time. Then she took Jack's arm and turned and walked away. Ray made a quick about face and headed for the hiding spot John had created. He traveled no more than a couple steps, when a tug on the back of his coat stopped him. He turned and standing there with a determined look on her face was Little Ida Potts.

"No sir, you go after that girl. Didn't you see the way she was looking at you? She likes you Mr. Ray. Now, you've fought Indians and evil men, I think you can handle one pretty lady, don't you Mr. Ray?" said Ida with a sly smile.

"Ida, are you a forty year old woman in a ten year old body? I've never met anyone like you before. But I'm not sure you understand what's going on here. What about her beau?"

"Oh, Mr. Ray, she doesn't like that fella anymore. He let her down in that Indian Camp. Her eyes have fallen onto you."

"Good gravy, Miss Potts, are your parents aware of how involved you are in other people's lives?"

"They don't care, Mr. Ray, as long as I'm not botherin' them all day."

"Well I sure can understand that, Miss Potts."

"Call me Ida," she said smiling.

"Of course, Ida," Ray said, returning the smile.

"Now go get her before I take a hot branding iron to your backside," snapped Ida.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," said Ray as he walked past her and headed in Morgan's direction.

There she was, standing next to an older, distinguished looking gentlemen and a woman of equal grace. Quickly at his side was his little cupid. "That's her Pa," stated Ida. "He has a lot of money. I think he is in textiles. The lady there is Morgan's mother. They are a little stuffy but go be charming."

"He's in textiles? Where did a little kid learn to talk like that?" Ray said shaking his head in disbelief.

Ray worked his way around a few people and entered the Adams' space.

"Good evening, Mr. Adams, my name is Ray Cooper. I would very much like to ask your permission to escort your daughter to the dance floor." He saw Ida out of the corner of his eye giving him a nodding smile of approval.

With an unnecessary clearing of the throat, creating an air of superiority Mr. Adams spoke, "Young man, I am quite aware of who you are. My wife and I have wanted to thank you for what you did at the Indian camp for our daughter. If you hadn't stepped in to help Jack Smoot protect her, who knows what might have happened."

It blurred out of Ray's mouth before he thought, "Helped Jack Smoot?" Regaining his composure Ray continued. "I mean, yes of course, helped Jack Smoot. Yes Morgan was very lucky he was there," Ray said with a level of sarcasm not missed by the expression on Morgan's face.

"Yes, my boy, the least we can do is allow you a single dance with our daughter," said Mr. Adams as he placed Morgan's small hand into Ray's up turned palm.

Ray had not missed the emphasis on "single dance" either. But he didn't care at that moment. He had Morgan's warm soft hand resting in his. The walk to the dance floor was magical. He stopped in an open area and swung her out in front of him. Ray felt like a knight in shining armor. Unfortunately he danced like a knight in heavy armor. He managed to step on her feet no less than eight times. At one point he almost knocked her down when he spun her out and pulled her back into him.

Finally Morgan had had enough, "Ray, thank you for the dance, but I don't believe my feet can take any more abuse. I can hardly walk and my arm feels like it's been pulled out of it socket. Can we sit out the rest of the song, please?"

"Oh yes, of course, I'm so sorry, I guess I just wanted to dance with you so much, that I forgot I was no dancer."

"Well I'm very flattered, and you're right, you're no dancer. But why me? Why did you want to dance with me? There are many other girls here who don't already have beaus."

"Not like you, Morgan." It felt good to finally say it, to get it all out and off his chest, to confess his love at last. "Ever since that first night I stumbled into you out in the bushes, I knew."

"You knew what? That you saw me naked and you thought you could just take me or something?" started in Morgan on the defensive.

"Morgan, I know we couldn't have gotten off on worse footing. But I know you're the only girl for me. I think I love you Morgan."

"You think you love me? Only girl for you? Ray, I have a beau and my parents would never permit us to be together."

"Do you love Jack, Morgan?"

"What do you mean, do I love him? I told you he was my beau."

"But do you love him? That's all I'm asking, do you love Jack? If you say you love him, I'll leave you be and never bother you again. But if you don't love him, then I intend to make you my wife. Now, do you love him?"

Over Ray's shoulder Morgan spotted Jack approaching with his usual group of followers. They were young boys who worshipped Jack and would do anything he asked to gain his favor. Morgan worried that if Jack thought something was going on between her and Ray that Ray could be in danger. Without thinking further she spoke the words, like a knife slicing through his heart, "Yes, Ray, I love Jack."

Ray stood for a few moments trying to understand, trying to make sense of what it meant. This was not the way it was supposed to end. He knew in his heart she was the one chosen for him. He looked deep into her eyes, trying to see a hint, a sign that she had lied, but saw nothing. Just a sympathetic smile and a small push on his side by a very small hand.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ray. Come on, I'll get you a cup of coffee," said little Ida Potts.

Ray walked away from Morgan and did not look back. His dream dance was over as quickly as it had started.

Ida and Ray walked over to where John, Larry, Richard and Laurie stood.

"Folks," stated Ida. "You need to take Mr. Cooper over to the fire and get him a cup of coffee. He just got the big push off by that no good Morgan Adams. Come on."

Ida started corralling them, forcing them into the direction of the dinner fires.

### Chapter 21

### A Comrade Lost

Ray could see a stranger running towards him out of the corner of his eye. The man was out of breath, as he spoke, "Ray, you're the one that rides point with the train's scout, right?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Ray said.

"There's been an accident over at the fort. The old man's been shot."

Sensing real danger, Ray followed quickly behind the man who took him just outside the saloon where the incident had happened.

"In there, he's in there," the man pointed into the saloon. "Some fast gun dun' shot him. I ain't gonna go back in there as long as that man's in there, he looks loco."

"Okay, you stay out here, and much obliged for comin' and getting' me." Ray said as he pulled his .44 and checked his loads.

"Ray, you going in there?" asked Richard.

"No other way to check on Zeke," Ray answered.

"Well I can tell you right now that he's dead," the stranger announced. "When I ran out of there, that poor fella wasn't movin'."

"Well you don't know he's dead for sure, maybe he's just unconscious," Ray said hopefully.

"You could be right, but I don't think so," said the stranger.

Returning his .44 back into the holster, but leaving the leather thong off the hammer, Ray walked slowly up to the saloon doors. Pushing them open, he walked into the room filled with a cloud of smoke, sweat, and perfume. There was the image of a dear friend lying on the floor in a pool of blood and beer before him. Walking over to Zeke's lifeless form, Ray knelt down to touch his neck for a pulse or to feel for a breath coming from his mouth. The life in this hard, tough, old man was gone.

"Who's the son-of-a-bitch that shot this great man?" Ray said softly over Zeke's body. Rising to his feet and turning to face the occupants, he yelled above the noise this time, "Who is the low down son-of-a-bitch that killed this great man?"

The room became suddenly very quiet. You could hear horses outside drinking from the trough and an owl calling into the night.

"I won't ask again. I'll just start shooting," Ray said, fully meaning every word.

"Wait mister," whispered an old timer standing at the bar, "It was that feller over there at the bar, the big one with the red shirt and broken down old hat." The old timer continued, "Your friend, he walked in here and called a greeting to a couple of us who knows him and that there feller just turned and shot him in the head, for no damn reason."

Ray turned and stood staring at the back of the red shirt. There was a sudden shuffle of feet. Chairs moved as the room cleared a wide berth between Ray and the red shirted man.

"All right mister, turn around," Ray ordered.

John, Larry, and Richard entered the saloon and freed their revolvers from their leather to guarantee no one else tried to join the dance.

The man in the red shirt straightened up and slowly turned around. He was a good-sized man, over two hundred pounds and maybe six feet tall. His clothes were almost worn through, held together only by the dirt and sweat of the trail.

All eyes were diverted by a demand coming from behind Ray, "Ray! Back away. He's mine."

Rage was demanding revenge and Ray hesitated for a moment before stepping sideways so as to keep the red shirted man in view while he listened to the one who spoke.

"That's one of the filthy pieces of shit that killed my parents and brothers."

"Larry, I've never seen you draw but you don't strike me as a gunman," Ray said.

"Doesn't matter, I've got to do it. Now, move aside Ray," commanded Larry as he stepped next to Ray and then in front of him.

The man in the red shirt grew a big smile across his face. "Well, well, well, you're that little brat we let go down Texas way when we cleaned out all those traitors. I think I'm gonna enjoy this. You know your brother begged me right before I hung him. Are you gonna beg me too? The regret here is that your mother ain't here this time. Now, that was some..." He never finished the filth that was about to spew from his mouth. Larry had pulled iron and placed a bullet down his throat to stop the words from leaving his mouth.

"From the heart the mouth speaks," was all Larry said as he dropped the spent shell to the floor, reloaded, and put the .44 back into his holster.

Larry turned just as the batwing doors of the saloon swung open. In rushed a half dozen men with guns drawn. Unfortunately for them, coming in from the dark night into the well-lit saloon gave them a slight disadvantage. Larry, John, Richard and Ray stood shoulder to shoulder. With their backs to the bar, they emptied their guns into the charging rebels. The first volley from their guns dropped three men. Richard and Larry hit the first man, Ray hit the second and John the third. The fourth man dove for a table. Recognizing that the table was made of a thin pine, Ray placed a shot through the table where he knew the fourth man to be hiding. "Thank God for growing up in a lumber town and learning about the thickness and strength of different types of woods," Ray thought. The fifth man walked tall and placed a shot that knocked John's hat off his head. Ray put one shot between his eyes, and Richard hit him in the shoulder. He was dead before he hit the floor. The sixth man stood in horror among the bodies of all his long traveled friends. As he lowered his hands to his sides, he knew his gang's reign of terror was all over.

"I'm out of it boys!" he said as he tossed his guns aside and put his hand above his head. "I'll just ride out and you won't never see me again," he begged.

"Head out the door and if I ever..." Ray started.

"Ray, this ain't your call," interrupted Larry, as he pushed past Ray.

"Mister, you had a hand in killin' my parents, and my family. You left me to die. There ain't no way you're leavin' my sight alive tonight. One of us is gonna die," Larry insisted as he approached the unarmed man all the while staring hatred into the eyes of the murderer.

"Look mister, I'm unarmed, I ain't got no gun. You can't just shot me in cold blood," whimpered the rebel.

"You mean like you did my family," said Larry as he unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the floor.

When Larry was close enough the rebel took a wide swing at his head. Larry blocked the blow and countered with a fist to the rebel's midsection, doubling him over. Larry then drove his knee into the man's face. He flew backwards out the bat wing doors and into the darkness of the night. You could hear him hit the dirt street outside. Larry pushed through the doors and headed out after him. Everyone in the bar jumped to their feet in order to go out and watch or join into the fight. The three of them, John, Richard, and Ray all turned in one motion. They drew their .44's and blocked the door.

"Gentlemen, go back to what you were doin'. This is gonna be a private fight!" said John, as he looked over his shoulder to the duo fighting outside. "Are you sure he doesn't need any help out there?" John quickly asked Ray.

"No John, I was suspect of his shooting ability until tonight, but I do know he can fight. That old boy out there fighting Larry right now has fought his last fight."

"John, you guys guard the door and make sure no one interferes in Larry's revenge. I have a friend to take care of," said Ray as he headed towards the still form on the floor.

Each of the boys grabbed a chair and pulled it over near the door and sat down.

"Bartender, bring us a round of beers!" ordered Richard.

In disappointment the bar patrons turned on their feet, returning to their drinks. Outside the sounds of the fight were escalating.

Ray stood over Zeke's body with a lump in his throat trying to burst free.

"Young fella," interrupted the old man at the bar that had pointed out the man in the red shirt. "If you don't mind, me and the boys here would be willing to carry your friend on over to the fort."

"Much obliged, Mister. Thanks."

Ray stepped back to let the three mountain men lift Zeke from the floor. They carried him out the front door, past John and the others.

"I'll check on Larry to see that the fight remains fair," said Ray has he followed Zeke's body out the door.

"Mind if we join ya?" asked John.

"If you want to go out there, have at it. I just figured the Army must have heard all the shooting before and it won't be long before they show up to end this party."

"Oh, well you always were a better diplomat than the rest of us. I believe I'll just sit right here and drink my beer," smiled John.

Ray could just make out the fighting pair in the moonlight and Zeke being lifted into the back of a wagon. Before stepping off the boardwalk Ray waited for his eyes to adjust to the night. Ray watched as his friends disappeared into the night.

"Right on time," thought Ray as he saw the approaching troopers down the middle of the street. He stepped out into the light and moved to intercept the boys in blue. The soldier in lead stopped when he saw Ray approaching.

"State your business, mister!" ordered the leader.

"Well sir, I've been expectin' you and wanted to ask if you would listen to what I have to say before you take action," asked Ray.

"First off, I'm no sir; I'm a working man in this Army. I'm Sergeant Klinke. So, what have ya to say?"

"Well, I'll start with the fact that there are about six men in the saloon there that are long past needin' any help. And these two out here," Ray pointed out the two fighting in the street, "are just finishin' up that squabble."

"Then move out of my way, I need to break this up," ordered the Sergeant.

"Now hold on a minute. I haven't finished explaining yet. There's nothin' you can do for the ones inside. My friends and I shot them dead. So they aren't going anywhere and neither are we. The issue here is the two still fightin'. You see the younger man there, the one with the blue shirt?"

"Yeah, I see him," answered the sergeant.

"Well that's one of my partners. You see a few years back, down in Texas, that taller man there and his six buddies inside were trying to force men to join the Confederacy. Larry's, that's my partner's name there, his family refused. They killed my partner's whole family and raped his Ma. They left my partner behind 'cause they thought he was already dead too. Now, I ask you Sergeant, don't you think my partner, Larry here, has the right to see the finish of this here fight?" argued Ray.

"Sarg, it could be that same bunch of rebs we been chasin' all over the territory!" blurted the corporal standing behind the sergeant.

"Well, maybe," said the sergeant as he scratched his whiskered chin. "I'll tell ya what young man," the sergeant continued, "I'll let the fight finish. But no one interferes. If your partner wins, we'll all go to the captain to clear up this mess. If the other fella wins, we'll have a trial and hang him."

"Fair enough," said Ray as he turned back to the fight just in time to see the rebel pull a knife from his boot.

Ray moved his hand toward his gun as a natural reflex.

"Hold up on that iron, boy. I told ya. They can finish the fight, but no one else is to join in.," said the Sergeant as he stood next to Ray with his Army issue .44 pointed at Ray's midsection.

"Damn it," cussed Ray as he began to worry about his friend. "Come on Larry, take him down, and watch out for that knife!" He shouted.

"What do ya think I'm tryin' to do here, the waltz?" yelled Larry as he jumped to avoid a nasty swing of the knife.

The rebel began to laugh at Larry's new predicament. With a knife held firmly in his right hand the man began to move in slowly for the kill. When he saw what he thought was a good opening, the rebel lunged forward pushing the knife ahead of him. Larry allowed the knife to sweep past his right side just under his right arm. He then clamped down on the rebel's arm and twisted hard to the left. The sound of a broken bone sickened the ears of the bystanders. The knife fell from the limp hand and dropped to the ground in front of Larry. Larry kicked it aside as he placed a right hook into the rebel's jaw. The rebel went over backwards and appeared out of the fight. Larry turned to retrieve his hat when the adversary jumped to his feet and dove at Larry. The man's arms circled Larry's waist forcing him to the ground in a pile. The impact with the ground caused the rebel to lose his grip. Larry rolled away and regained his footing. Standing hunched over with his hands spread wide, Larry was battling to fill his lungs with enough air.

Larry yelled, "Come on, get up, let's finish this!"

The man did not move. He just laid face down and motionless in the dust of the street. Larry moved up slowly and grabbed the man's arm, pulling the limp body onto his back. The rebel's knife stood straight up in the center of his chest.

"Okay, okay, that ends it, move away boy!" ordered the sergeant as he and his men moved in to take charge.

"Sergeant, my other partners are on watch just inside the door in that saloon. Let me tell them you're comin' so no one gets accidently shot," asked Ray.

"Go ahead," pointed the Sergeant.

"Richard, John, come on out boys, it's all done. Holster your pieces. The army's out here," yelled Ray into the saloon.

"Well it's about time, I was beginnin' to think you forgot us in there," said John, clearly annoyed.

"Boys, I'll need to have your guns now, at least until you're done talkin' to the Captain," demanded the Sergeant.

"Fair enough, Sergeant, and thank you," said Ray.

"I didn't do anything. He fell on his own knife," whispered Larry still out of breath. "Remember that when we talk to the captain, Ray."

"Of course, Larry," answered Ray.

"Corporal, dispatch a detail to round up these bodies. Identify them if you can and then get them in the ground, and not in the same ground as our boys, got it?"

"Yes, Sergeant," answered the young Corporal as he grabbed several Troopers and headed inside the saloon.

"I understand we had some shootin' tonight in the saloon and you boys did most of it," stated the Captain standing behind his desk. He was a small man, balding at the top of his head, and looked tired. But Ray suspected he had some fight in him yet.

"Well, now that ain't exactly right," stuttered Larry. "They did just as much shootin' as we did. Only difference is we just hit what we aim at."

"Well, I guess you're right about that. Now which one of you is going to tell me what this small war in my Fort was all about," demanded the Captain.

"I will Sir," said Ray as he stepped forward. "You see, those men were part of a group of Confederates that killed my friend here's family," Ray gestured to Larry. "They took his Ma too. Well tonight we stumbled onto them when we went to the aid of a friend of ours after we heard he was into some trouble at the saloon. Turns out our friend was shot and killed entering the saloon and for no reason."

"Who was this friend?"

"Well I called him Zeke; I didn't really don't know his real name as he never would tell me. He never told anyone for that matter, as far as I know. He was the scout for the Woods' wagon train," explained Ray.

"I see. And after you killed the man that shot your scout?" the Captain inquired.

"The room suddenly filled with the dead man's friends and they were already opening up on us. At that point it was kill or be killed," finished Ray.

"All right, I've heard enough, although I can't condone taking the law into your own hands like you did tonight, I can see why most men would have done just what you did. When the wagons pull out, be sure to be with them, understand?" said the Captain.

"Yes Sir!" said Ray.

The four turned to leave when the Captain suddenly blurted out, "Willis, Willis Campbell."

Ray turned around to face the Captain, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your scout, his name was Willis Campbell. He's done some scouting for the Army and he's worked for years as a scout for Woods. Damn good scout and a better friend. If you'd like we could bury him here on the Fort with honors."

"If you don't mind, I think he'd prefer a little less fanfare and a spot up on that hill we came over right before seeing the fort," said Ray.

"You did know him, didn't ya?" said the Captain, a faint smile on his lips.

"Damn good scout and even better friend, just like you said," finished Ray as he pulled his hat back on his head and followed the rest out the door.

### Chapter 22

### Our Day Off

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, Quincy gave the boys a welcomed day to rest. Ray was using his time off to reflect on Miss Morgan Adams. Sitting next to the river with his feet soaking in the chilly water, he came to the conclusion that he just could not figure out women and shouldn't even try.

Suddenly a branch snapped, bringing Ray out of his daydream. He turned to find Jack Smoot and his tag-a-longs standing behind him.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Ain't this the fella that was dancing with your girl last night, Jack?" asked the boy standing next to Jack.

"Yes, I believe you're right. Hello Ray. Now I can't believe you didn't already know that Morgan was spoken for. I'm going to give you a little piece of advice. Stay away from Morgan or else."

Ray rose to his feet to face the group, "or else what Jack, you gonna hide in the hut again while someone else fights your battles?"

Jack looked quickly to his right then to his left to see if any of the others understood what Ray was saying. From their look of blind loyalty he knew he was safe.

"I don't need anyone else fightin' my battles for me, but if you want a job done right, why not have help. GET HIM BOYS!" laughed Jack.

The first boy in received a right cross from Ray as a welcoming gift. But there were too many and soon they had control of Ray on the ground. All he could do was try to cover up, as the blows seemed to come from everywhere. Ray felt a boot connect with the back of his head – it dazed him a little. Then a couple of fists made contact with his face, followed by several more boots to his ribs. That was about the time he entered the quiet world of darkness and passed out.

It was already starting to turn dusk by the time Ray regained consciousness and slowly began to open his eyes; at least as open as he could get them. They were mostly swollen shut. The first thing he thought of was how he had wasted most of his day off, passed out. Trying to move he felt sharp pains from several parts of his body. He called out a couple times but the sound of the river pretty much washed out his voice. So he slowly rolled over onto his stomach and eased himself down into the water. Fortunately it wasn't that deep or moving that fast. The shorelines were mostly bare because what trees had been there had been cut down for firewood. He let the flow of the cool water take him as he kicked his feet. His legs were about the only part on his body that didn't hurt. Once he drifted to the other side of the river he grabbed onto the shallow bank. He pulled himself up out of the water and began to crawl like a snake toward the campfires. Thankfully he saw Laurie heading towards him with a bucket for water, and called out to her several times. Hearing her name she stopped and looks around for the whereabouts of the sound. Because it was dusk and Ray was laying flat on the ground it took her awhile of searching before she saw him. She immediately called out to Richard to come help as she went running toward Ray's side.

"Take it easy Ray," said Laurie as she felt his chest.

"Are you hurt bad, Ray?" asked Richard as he knelt down beside Ray, with a very concerned look on his kind face.

Laurie told Richard to go get John and Larry and have them bring down something they could carry Ray with over to the fire.

Richard obeyed immediately and headed for the wagons.

"Just lay easy Ray, helps coming," was the last thing Ray heard before he passed out again.

When Ray awoke he was comforted to realize he was all tucked in safely inside Laurie and Richard's wagon. He heard a familiar voice. "How is he?"

"He'll be all right, no thanks to you and your beau. You know he's only tried to be nice to you since he met you and all you've done is spit in his face. Why don't you do him a big favor and go back to your wagon and your precious Jack. You deserve each other," demanded Laurie, sounding like a mother bear protecting one of her young.

Hearing that defense boosted Ray's spirits some. However, it didn't change anything. He still was hopelessly in love with Morgan and if he thought it was what she wanted he would have called to her to come in. Just then the flap on the end of the wagon opened and Laurie's face popped in.

"Well, look who's decided to join the living," smiled Laurie.

Ray decided not to make a comment about what he had just heard and acted as though he just woke up. "Hi Laurie. How long have I been out?"

"A full day, and Quincy said he was going to dock your pay," laughed Laurie. "You gave us quite a scare, Ray Cooper. What happened to you? How'd you get hurt?" asked Laurie already confident that she knew exactly how Ray came by his injuries.

"Well I was sittin' on the other side of the river when all of a sudden I was jumped by seven or so angry ducks. I must have been sittin' right in their nest and it made them blood thirsty mad. Well, I'll tell you, I fought hard but those ducks over-powered me and I soon succumbed to their assault," Ray finished with a smile.

"So you're not going to tell me are you?"

"I just did."

"Okay, you stick to your story and I'll stick to mine," said Laurie, in a bit of a huff.

"What do you mean your story?" Ray asked.

"Well Jack Smoot has been bragging around that he whooped you in a fair fight. But everybody on the train knows that isn't true. There is no way that tinhorn would be able to whoop you unless he had help, and that's just what he had. Now you tell me I'm wrong," demanded Laurie.

"I won't tell you one way or the other. Out here a man ain't a man, unless he stomps his own snakes."

"Is that my lazy good for nothin' scout I hear? Is he about ready to get out of bed and go back to work yet?" called Quincy from outside the wagon.

"Hey, Quincy, yeah I'm ready to get back into the saddle and I'm sure Laurie will be happy to get me out of her hair."

"Oh, Ray Cooper, sometimes you just make me so mad I could bust a fry pan across your head," threatened Laurie as she jumped off the back of the wagon.

Sticking his head into the back of the wagon, Quincy laughed as Laurie marched off. "We got the go ahead by the Army to pull out in the morning. Do you think you'll be able to take point? I know you ain't a tracker or know the route. But from here on all we gotta do is keep goin' west. Stay on the trail, cross a few rivers and follow the trains ahead of us. We'll be in Salt Lake in no time."

"I'll be ready Mr. Woods."

"Thanks boy, you're turning out all right, you know that? I'll have John and Larry take turns at point with you. I don't want anyone out there alone. We're headin' into Sioux country and one of the fiercest Chiefs around Red Cloud."

"I'll be in the saddle at first light, Sir," Ray promised.

"Okay. See you in the morning," and just like that, Quincy's face disappeared out of the wagon.

### Chapter 23

### Meeting the Sisters

The next morning, the wagons were finally leaving Ft. Laramie and heading out towards a place called Independence Rock. Ray rode out ahead of the train with Quincy and John. His chest was wrapped tight in bandages but his ribs still felt like they were going to poke through his sides.

Ray wasn't long on the trail before he began to notice some of the pilgrims up ahead of their train had tossed items from their wagons out along the trail. Confused by the obvious loss of valuable items he asked Quincy what the hell they were doing. But before he finished his question he was shocked by the sound of the death throes of a piano playing out as it hit the trail.

Quincy looked at Ray with a sad face, "I'll admit that this is the portion of trail that I think bothers me the most. No one explained well enough to these travelers that the only real value is a light load. If you kill off your mules or oxen tryin' to pull a damn piano over the Sierras, you're likely to end up dead yourself. You see boys; at first when they hit the trail all seems fine. But as they head for the great divide there is a gradual rise all the way to the mountains. It takes a toll on their animals. Then when they see the mountains for themselves, they understand what the ones goin' before them were talkin' about. Their fear overrides their poor judgment, in what they packed. It's one of the few times in life when fear will save your life."

Ray's neck was getting sore from trying to look back at the wagons as each seemed to get the idea or approval from the one ahead that it was time to lessen their burdens. Everything that wasn't a necessity had to go. Most had hoped to sell these items in Ft. Laramie but few could, as there just wasn't a need for them.

"Okay boys, head on out. I'll stay with the front of the wagons. You get into trouble fire three shots into the air. I'll come a runnin' with half the men from the train. Now you watch yourselves. The Sioux are not what you might call friendly. If you see one, don't stick around," instructed Quincy.

"Yes sir!" Ray yelled as he and John trotted off down the trail.

"So this is what you've been doin', while Larry and I've been eatin' dust back there in that remuda," teased John.

"Oh yeah, it's been nothin' but fun from the very beginning," Ray said. "Come on, let's get some distance between us and the wagons. We need to find some water and see if the wagons up ahead left any game. Folks back there sure would like some fresh meat."

At a fast trot they were covering ground, narrowing the gap on the wagon train that had left a day before them. Ray didn't want to reach the other wagons, only to get close and then hunt their way back. They rode up over a small hill and in the valley below sat a wagon with a busted wheel. A wooden trunk was set in the shade of a nearby tree where two women sat talking. The scene was surreal. These women sat on the trunk in the middle of the prairie and acted as if they could be sitting in New York City on a park bench. One of the ladies looked to be very thin and tall, wearing a black dress with a matching bonnet. The woman sitting next to her was just the opposite; she appeared to be short and very over weight, dressed similarly in black dress and black bonnet.

Ray stopped John from riding down the hill so as to give them an opportunity to check the area more thoroughly. Not seeing any danger, and seemingly quite clear of hiding places, Ray gestured to John for them to ride on down.

Slowly they approached, "Hello the wagon!" Ray called out. "We're friendly."

"Ride on in gentlemen, we've been expecting you," said the shorter woman.

As Ray dismounted he couldn't help but ask, "Ladies, you're not alone out here, are you? I mean you do know you're sittin' in Sioux country? You must have some kind of an escort?"

"No son, we're not alone," smiled one of the ladies.

Concerned they may have ridden into a trap Ray quickly grabbed for the butt of his gun and looked a full circle around the area.

"I don't see anyone else ladies, who the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Oh my," said the thin lady to his use of the word hell. "Why the good Lord, that's who's with us. When you have the Lord riding with you, you have a whole army to defend you. You see our wagon wheel broke. The fine people of the train ahead said that your wagon train would be more fitting for us, seeing as you are all God fearing pilgrims. Just like us, wanting to build God's church in the West. Isn't it wonderful?" smiled the short lady as she stood up onto her stumpy legs and raised her arms to the sky.

"You mean to tell me that the wagon train ahead of us just left you two sitting here?" asked John.

"Well they can't just leave you here and your wagon train knew it. Did you ladies do anything to rub those folks the wrong way? I can't believe they would just leave you for no reason."

The stumpy lady bristled, her chins trembling in indignation. "Rub them the wrong way? Why I should say not. We spent every waking hour spreading the word to each family. Why we had already visited most the wagons. What would you say sis, twenty, thirty times?" asked the short lady.

"Well I can't say twenty or thirty as I wasn't counting how many wagons we had blessed. But if I was counting I would say twenty-three times," said the tall lady without wavering.

"Ray," said John waving him over then turning his back so the ladies wouldn't hear, "I think we've been stuck with a couple real Bible thumpers. No wonder they got left. I don't have anything against the Good Lord or the Bible but I do hate havin' it crammed down my throat," whispered John.

"I'm afraid you're right. The wagon boss ain't going to be too happy about this," Ray said as he turned back to the ladies. "Do you have a spare wheel, ladies?"

"Why yes we do, it just so happens one of the wagons from the train ahead threw one out to us as they drove by," explained the short lady.

"Weren't they a real blessing Florence?" said the tall Lady.

"Yes they were Sis," smiled the short lady.

"Ladies, all they were doin' was easin' their conscience by leavin' you a wheel instead of helpin' you put it on," said John in frustration.

"Oh dear me young fella, you have it all wrong. The good Lord must have felt we had done our work for that wagon train and left us here to start our work all over again with your train," smiled Sis, the tall lady.

John looked at Ray with dread, "what do we do Ray?"

"Well, I guess we can't shoot them," smiled Ray, "so I guess all we can do is to see if we can get that wheel changed before the train reaches us so that these good ladies don't slow us down."

"I was afraid you'd say that. Okay lead onward Christian Soldier!" John began to sing.

Luck was with them as they found a good solid piece of wood to use as a lever and raised the back of the wagon up. They didn't need to empty the wagon before hand as the Ladies were hauling very little. They just smiled when asked about the near empty wagon, replying that the good Lord would provide all their needs. Unfortunately it wasn't always the good Lord who had to provide for people like this, but other travelers who were already short on supplies. While Florence and Ray leaned over the end of the pole, John wedged the new wagon wheel onto the axle. With plenty of grease added from the bucket hanging near the wheel, the pin was driven into the axle, securing the wheel in place. The ladies walked over to the shade and grabbed the trunk they'd been sitting and began to carry it towards the back of their wagon.

"Ladies, you might just as well leave that there and take a seat. Our wagon train is a good half-day back and once they reach this spot we'll be makin' camp. There's good water over there and the only shade tree for miles," Ray observed.

"Well if you say so young man. And I do declare, where are our manners? This is my sister Florence," said the tall thin lady, "and you can call me Sis."

"Well it's very nice to meet you ladies. I'm Ray and this here is John, one of my partners."

"Well how lovely. Are both of you boys baptized in the church?" asked Sis, a benign, sickly sweet smile on her lips.

The boys both quickly answered "yes ma'am" as they knew what might happen if they didn't. The ladies almost appeared disappointed that they had no one to try and convert until the wagons arrived.

That night, with all the wagons circled around for protection, Florence and Sis went about saving as many souls as they could. John and Ray got dirty looks from everyone they passed. All they could say was that there wasn't anything they could do. But their excuses didn't make the ugly looks any less ugly.

### Chapter 24

### Warrior

The next morning found Larry and Ray several miles out from the wagons hoping to find their next water supply. It was going to be a longer drive today for the wagons to be able to camp near a water source. No one was too fond of setting up a dry camp. Stopping at a small dry riverbed to check for water, they tied their horses to a couple of tree falls. There was a ten-foot rise on both sides of the river. The wheels of several hundred wagons had broken down the bank. Kneeling down on their knees, they began to dig into the soft sand, realizing before long there wasn't any water below the surface. Larry and Ray rose to start back to their horses when Horse whinnied. Grabbing his snout to keep him quiet, Ray waited for another horse to answer. It wasn't a long wait. Down by where wagons had crossed and headed in the same direction rode two Indians. In front, there was a very proud looking warrior and behind him, with less stature rode a small woman. The boys stood as still as they could and held tight to their horse's reins. Having no cover their only hope was that the Indians wouldn't look in their direction. The brave reached the other side of the small stream and headed up the broken down bank on the opposite side. Just as the woman started to climb out of the riverbed, she turned and spotted them. She let out more of a scream than a warning to her brave. The boys' presence had apparently frightened her. Like a bolt of lighting the warrior rode off the rise in front of them. He was upon them before they could move. Larry was struck by the warrior's left leg, falling to the ground. The warrior tightly turned his mount and was quickly back on them before they could mount a defense. With a rock tied to the end of a long stick the Indian swung out and connected with Ray's shoulder. To his anguish he realized that spot was the only one left that didn't already hurt.

As the warrior turned his horse again, Ray, finally catching his wits about him, ran toward the turning steed. He jumped up and grabbed the warrior from his horse. The Indian flew to the ground, hitting the sandy riverbed hard, but not hard enough to end the battle. He was back on his feet with his knife in his hand. Before Ray had a chance to reach for his, the Indian circled Ray, preparing to make his move.

Ray knew he was no knife fighter. He knew he had only gotten lucky back in that Indian camp. Fortunately, he noticed Larry sneaking up behind the Indian with a large rock held over his head. Unfortunately Larry tripped on a piece of driftwood and fell, dropping the rock next to the brave. The good news was it gave Ray time to secure his knife. Now was the time for a crash course in knife fighting and the winner got to live.

Like a cat the warrior dove at Ray, his knife slicing a small cut across Ray's right thigh. Ray countered by swinging his blade and managed to put a hole in the Indian's buckskins.

Ray figured if he got killed now, at least this winter the man would remember him when the cold wind blew through that small hole.

Ray was trying to collect as many small victories in this fight as he could. He was able to cut the back of the warrior's buckskin jacket as he dove past. Ray rolled past the Indian and up on his feet in one movement. That's when Ray saw the squaw standing directly behind him, holding their horses. The brave stared at Ray and began to smile. Ray knew he was no match for the Indian's skill with a knife. The Indian began to move forward toward him when the squaw stepped up, running her blade deep into the Brave's back. He turned to face her and raised his knife to stab her. Ray raced in and grabbed his arm and pulled it back. The Indian fell backwards onto the knife, driving it deeper into his spine. With a contortion of his body he died in the sand of the riverbed.

Ray stepped back from the woman who had just saved his life and didn't know what to say or what to do. Why had she done this? Ray was sure the smile he had seen from her earlier was a smile of a proud squaw about to witness another victory from her man. Slowly moving towards her, she stepped back, raising her hands in defense.

"It's okay I'm not gonna hurt you. Do you understand?" Ray said as he tried to read her face.

By this time Larry was up and moving to Ray's side, "Well what do we have here?" smiled Larry.

"Well, I'm not sure. But I do know she just saved our lives," Ray answered while keeping his eyes on the frightened squaw.

"It really is okay; we're not here to hurt you. Why did you save us? Why did you kill your man?"

"HE NOT MY MAN!" yelled the small framed woman. And with that she began to tear at her clothes and scream in pain. Tears ran down her face as she fell to her knees and then flat on her face, weeping. There didn't appear to be any letting up. Larry and Ray didn't know what to do. Ray was afraid if he reached down to comfort her, she just might have a hidden blade with his name on it. He looked at Larry and shrugged his shoulders. He then knelt down next to her, and began to pat her on the shoulder. She didn't react to his touch so he began to talk softly to her, trying to give her some reassurance. Slowly her crying subsided and she rose up onto her hands and knees. She then rolled over onto her backside and sat up. This was the first time Ray really got a clear look at her face. The tears that had flooded down her face had washed away a lot of trail dust, revealing fair skin instead of the deeply tanned, weather hardened skin of a Sioux.

"Larry! This is a white woman!" Ray announced.

"What?" said Larry as he leaned down and looked directly into her face. He apparently got too close as she raised her hand and placed it squarely on Larry's face, pushing him back. He fell over backwards with his boots rising straight into the air. Ray looked to Larry to see if he was okay, then he heard her starting to laugh. All the pain and suffering she had endured was all working its way out. If she could laugh then there was hope for her yet, thought Ray.

Ray stayed with the woman while Larry took one of the Indian ponies and rode off to catch up to their mounts. It wasn't long before he returned and they helped the woman back onto her horse. She rode quietly between them, constantly looking all around them. In a couple of hours they reached the wagons. Seeing them riding in with an Indian, Mr. Woods called a halt to the procession.

"What in tar nation have you two done now? Don't you know what the Sioux will do when they hear you've stolen one of their women?" questioned Quincy.

"She was one of our women first, Quincy. She's a white woman," Ray stated.

About then two or three of the front drivers approached them with anger written all about their faces.

"I don't give a good Goddamn if she is white. Once she bedded down with an Indian Buck, she became Indian. She ain't no white woman no more. Send her back before Red Cloud comes to fetch her," yelled one of the men.

"Yeah! Yelled another, all she's good for now is to get us all killed!" yelled another angry traveler.

Several others joined their group as the protest grew. Ray knew the vile things they said cut deep into this small woman sitting on her horse next to him. He just couldn't take it any longer.

"The next person who has anything ugly to say about this person sittin' next to me will have me to deal with." Ray knew he could take most of the family men on the train, but a few of the drivers were pretty game. He was hoping they would base their decision to beat him up on all the high tales that had been spread around the camp about his fighting ability.

"Now look Ray, we ain't got no fight with you, and you don't have to get all riled up. We have our families to think of. What if Red Cloud comes after her?" asked one of the husbands as he walked up to the group.

"Listen. I know this is a raw deal. I know the risk we face. But if we were to send her back out there they would kill her. She saved our lives out there and I plan on being there for her as long as it takes," stated Ray.

The woman turned and looked into his eyes with such emotion that he could tell this was the first measure of compassion she had felt in a long time.

"Now all you men just break this up, now," came a familiar voice pushing its way through the group.

Emerging in front of the woman's horse stood Florence and Sis. "Shame on you people, this is a frightened child of God and we will not have any harm come to her."

Florence and Sis moved around to the side of her horse, reached up and with reassuring hands helped her down from her mount. They threw a blanket over her shoulders and wrapped their arms around her waist. Together they walked her through the group and back toward their wagon.

Over Sis's shoulder she was heard to call out exalted, "she will be our first conversion on this train!"

Under Quincy's breath Ray heard him say, "Heaven help her."

"Okay gents, there's a chance we can move through this area before the Sioux know she's gone. So we better double all the guards tonight and ride with a rifle in the box next to ya," said Quincy. "Now back to the wagons and let's see if we can't put some distance between them and the stream up ahead."

### Chapter 25

### The Sioux

Ray and Larry rode out a few hundred yards ahead of the train to head off any danger and watch for the dust of the train ahead of them. The boys would need their help if they were attacked. They really didn't want to end their day with a real close hair cut so they decided not to wander further away from the safety of the train than they had too.

They rode their horses in a slow walk as the sun bore down on them. Sweat ran down their backs, although it was a tossup as to whether it was the heat or the threat of an arrow. Ray couldn't be sure.

"Ray, do you really think the Sioux will come after that girl?" asked Larry.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Larry. We just need to keep our eyes open for anything. I sure wish Zeke was here now, he'd have a good idea of what to expect." Ray said wistfully.

"Well at least we made it to the river bed again. There it is up ahead. Sure looks quiet, don't it?" asked Larry as he looked up and down the dry bed.

"Shit!"

"What is it Ray?" spoke Larry as he pulled his gun from its leather and started panning the scene.

"Look over there Larry, where we buried the brave."

"Oh shit, we're in for it now aren't we Ray. Someone dug him up."

"Let's ride over there and see what we see," Ray said as he turned Horse into the direction of where they had left the Indian brave. "Look Larry, unshod pony tracks. Let's get free of this spot and let Quincy know what we found."

Turning their horses east they rode hard back to the wagons to put up the warning. When Quincy saw them approaching he rode out to join them. "What is it boys?"

"I'm afraid the Sioux found our friend's body back there in the dry river bed. Looked like he was taken away by several riders on unshod ponies," Ray reported.

"So soon, damn it! We just ran out of time, boys. I know it's early but maybe we should get the wagons into a circle and hunker down," speculated Quincy.

"May I make a suggestion, Mr. Woods? If we circle now, the train ahead of us will move on too far to come to our aid. We don't know if there's a train followin' us. My Pa always said there was safety in numbers."

"Your Pa was right, Ray. What do you have in mind?"

"Well it's risky but I'd say we push on. We'll need to increase our speed to close the gap with the wagon train ahead of us. We place well-armed men, ridin' parallel a couple hundred yards out from the train. It won't give us much time to circle but it might keep us from ridin' into an ambush. I'd like to ride up to the train ahead of us and warn them of what might be comin'."

"You're right Ray. It could leave them wide open for an attack. I figure if we hang around here long enough in a circle they'd just pick us apart and we'd miss our window to get across the Rockies. I sure hope that little lady we saved is worth it. Ah shit; I couldn't leave anyone out here to fend for themselves against those savages either. Let's get the men in position and I guess you got some ridin' to do, Ray." said Quincy as he turned his big Palomino back towards the wagons.

"I'm ridin' with Ray," stated Larry.

"I figured you would. Be safe boys, this train needs your kind," smiled Quincy, as he tipped his hat in their direction.

"See you in a few hours Quincy," they both called as they turned west and headed out at a fast gallop towards the leading train.

"How far ahead do you think they are Ray?" asked Larry.

"Well they can't be too far. They can only travel a few miles a day like us. I hope we can be back in our own camp before dark."

"Sounds good to me. Lets ride!" called Larry as he kicked the sides of his mount encouraging their horses into a full run.

Dust in the air told them that they were getting closer to the procession of wagons ahead, when suddenly the attack hit. The boys must have ridden right into an ambush being prepared for their own train. Three from the group of ten Indians must have seen them coming and welcomed them with a cloud of arrows. The others went about the business of hiding their mounts and wiping away the signs of their tracks with large leafy branches. Ray and Larry pulled iron simultaneously and threw lead into the attackers. The Indians were as surprised as the Cowboys, and their arrows went wide. Fortunately for Ray and Larry their gunshots were truer. Their first couple shots missed their target completely, but had the advantage of five more. Their second and third shots ended the Indian's defense and the fourth and fifth shots sent the rest of the Braves into cover.

"Let's get out of here Ray!" yelled Larry as he fired into the fleeing Sioux.

"We can't, Larry! These fellas aren't going home without scalps and that girl. We need to finish this right now!" Ray shouted back.

Ray dropped the spent shells from his chambers and quickly reloaded. Larry did the same. With guns in hand they charged ahead. Chasing down the would-be ambushers, they caught four still out in the open near a small ravine. The Indians fired back with arrows and tossed a couple clubs that missed their marks. The boys' shots killed three before their bodies struck the ground. The fourth ran towards Ray with his knife drawn and a scream coming from his throat that scared the hell out of them. Without thinking Ray raised his .44 and placed a single shot into the oncoming attacker's chest. He stumbled and went down in a heap, throwing up a cloud of dust when he hit the ground. That was going to be his final resting place.

"Where's the other three, Larry?"

"They made it to their horses, Ray. Should we let them go?"

"Hell no! Do you see what's on the back of that pony? I think that bundle is our dead brave. If they get back to their camp with that body, they'll have half the Sioux Nation down our throats. If we can stop them, maybe we can buy enough time for the wagons to get clear. Let's ride 'em down and put 'em out of commission," Ray called as he put Horse into a dead run.

Holstering his .44, Ray pulled the Winchester from its boot and cocked it. The three Indians were increasing the distance between them. Their ponies were obviously fresh where as the boys had been riding theirs most of the day.

"We'll never catch 'em Ray!" Said Larry as he pulled up, grabbed his Winchester from the boot, and jumped out of the saddle. He hit the ground flat out on his stomach and brought his rifle to bear on the attempted assassins.

When Ray saw what Larry had in mind he pulled up hard and also flew out of the saddle, landing on his feet. Larry fired first, dropping the furthest attacker from his mount. Ray changed his target as he had been sighting at the same rider. His shot was followed by a shot from Larry. Three ponies slowed and trotted on out into the tall grass without their riders.

"Shit, that was close Ray," said Larry, rising from the ground and wiping beads of sweat from his face.

"Too close, Larry. If they had gotten away, we could have written off every man woman and child from that train behind us. But I still hate having to shoot at any one who's fleeing the fight."

"It leaves a bad taste in your mouth Ray, but there was no other way." Larry said quietly, shaking his head.

"I know, come on. Let's get this chore done. We need to get these bodies out of sight and do a better job than we did with the brave in the riverbed," Ray said as he gathered up Horse's reins and leaped back up into the saddle, replacing his Winchester into its boot. They moved the departed to a safe place where no one would find them, this time covering them with rocks. Once the ugly task was complete they headed west. The boys rode into the camp made by the wagons in lead of their own train.

The wagon master was first to greet them, "Heard shots back there. Was that you two?"

"Yes sir, we had a run in with some Sioux," answered Larry.

"Sioux you say," scratched the Wagon Master's chin, "did they get away?"

"Not quite. We were riding up here to warn you when they jumped us. I guess they were planning an ambush on our train to get a woman back who we rescued from a brave," blurted Larry.

"You mean tell, that they're up in arms over a squaw you took?" cussed the Wagon Master.

"Not exactly," interrupted Ray. "We ran into a Brave and his woman. The brave attacked us and we had to kill him. The woman with him turned out to be a white woman. She's back with our train now."

"Well this don't sound like any concern of ours, Butch," said one of the bystanders to the wagon master. "If she's been with the Indians she ain't white no more. I say you two go back to your train and send that woman back to the Sioux."

"Cletus, I'm runnin' this train so you shut up and go back to your wagon," demanded the wagon boss.

"Listen, sendin' that woman back now would be a death sentence for her. The only reason we rode up here was to ask if you wanted to slow some so the two trains could travel closer together until we can get past this threat," explained Ray.

"Sounds like a good idea for now, but once we get clear we'll need to spread out again so we don't end up with more people than water sources for camp," agreed the wagon master.

"Makes sense," said Ray as he shock the man's hand.

After accepting a hot cup of coffee from the wagon master, they were once again in their saddles heading east.

"That bunch sure didn't seem very friendly," said Larry.

"Well they just got the news about a pending Sioux attack, so they're probably a little worried. Can't blame 'em a bit about that. Give 'em time and they'll pull their defense into action."

"Yeah I guess. But to hear some of those people call for that woman to be sent back to the Sioux almost made me sick."

"It's all fear Larry. They don't want to have to face the real chance that they might die out here along this trail."

"Well, what you told them shut them up about the girl."

"Well its true Larry. Sending the girl back now wouldn't do anything except get her killed. Sioux have been killed and it won't be long before they figure out what happened. Then they'll want to even the score. Zeke told me once while we were ridin' ahead of the train about how the Indians are influenced by what they call good and bad medicine."

"What are you talkin' about?" asked Larry as he increased the speed of his horse's trot.

"I don't understand all of it, but it's like the Sioux we killed earlier today. That is bad medicine for them and if they don't avenge it, that bad medicine could grow. Now if for some reason they can't avenge the killin', they may call it too strong of bad medicine that they can't overcome it, and they'll leave it. Sometimes markin' off whole sections of land where they will not travel because it contains bad medicine."

"That could be helpful if we can create enough bad medicine for them," said Larry.

"I sure hope so. Come on, I'm getting' real hungry and I can almost smell that prairie stew cookin'."

They arrived back at the train around sunset. The wagons were already in circles with armed men walking the parameters. The boys stopped short of the wagons and called out, "Hail, the camp! Okay for two exhausted riders to ride on in?"

"That you Ray?" came a reply from behind a small outcropping.

"Yup, it's Larry and me and we're hungry enough to eat wagon canvas."

"Ride on in and be welcome," came the response.

After unsaddling their mounts and letting them walk off to join the remuda within the wagon circle, Ray and Larry headed straight for dinner.

"I'll go tell Quincy what's happened. See you later," said Larry as he walked off.

When Ray entered the campfire area he saw Morgan sheepishly holding a plate and cup. "Ray, I got you a plate of food and some coffee. I...wanted to talk to you about what happened back in Laramie...please?" said Morgan with large brown eyes that melted his heart. Ray realized right then and there he would never be good with women. They'd always be able to wrap him up in knots. He made a mental note to try and stay clear of females if he wanted to be his own man.

"Okay Morgan, what did you want to talk about?"

"Come over here on this fallen log and eat while I explain."

"Explain what? You don't have anything to explain to me. You're in love with Jack and you want me to stay clear of you. I get it."

"No..." she said it so quick and so loud it appeared to escape her lips. Placing her hand over her mouth for a brief second she tried to capture the word as it fled from her pretty lips.

"I mean, no that isn't exactly correct. You see Ray, Jack comes from a family like mine. My parents, they want the best for me and well..."

"Once again Morgan, I get it. Neither you nor your parents see me as being what's best for you. No problem. My ma always told me not to hang around where you're not welcome," Ray said firmly.

"You're getting this all turned around, Ray. I just wanted to apologize for..."

"Apologize for Jack and his friends jumping me. I don't see where that has anything to do with you. That's between me and Jack to settle. Now...I thank you for the vittles but I'm suddenly not all that hungry anymore." And with that, Ray rose and walked away, leaving Morgan to stare at his disappearing shadow.

Morgan looked down at the half eaten plate of food next to her. Picking it up she cursed under her breath and threw the plate across the camp.

At the morning fires Ray saw Morgan standing by Jack. They were arguing about something, but Ray just tried to ignore them and continued to gather up his grub for the trail. Jack followed Ray to the Remuda to saddle Horse. He felt two hands squarely on his back as he was pushed hard to the ground. Rolling over onto his back he looked up into the enraged face of Jack Smoot.

"Get up damn it!" threatened Jack "I don't know what lie you told Morgan or what you're tryin' to do, but you'll not come between me and what's rightfully mine!"

"Well, well, well...if it isn't my old friend Jack Smoot. Where are all your friends hiding Smoot? Will they be holding me down again while you kick me?"

"It was a fair fight and you spreading lies about me is gonna stop right now," said Jack as he began to breath hard.

"Jack, you appear a little nervous. Are you sure you want to take me on without your friends?

By this time a small group had begun to circle around the two of them.

"I figure I could whoop you and all your friends right now, unless they jump me like before." Ray said coyly.

Jack saw red; he knew what Ray was saying was the truth for all to hear. He had to clear his name, especially the image he had created for Morgan and her family. If Morgan's Pa found out about his cowardly act, he'd be cut off from the Adam's fortune.

Jack charged forward and attempted to place a boot into Ray's lower midsection. Ray blocked the kick with his left leg and rolled up onto his feet, egging Jack on. Ray had never wanted to pound anyone more than he wanted to pound Jack Smoot. When Jack lunged at Ray, Ray met Jack's face with a hard driven fist, forcing Jack's head back and making a severe cracking sound. He hit the ground and rolled over onto his back. Ray stood back, giving Jack room, wanting to enjoy this and hoping it wouldn't end too soon. Jack slowly rose from the ground rubbing the back of his neck.

"You know Jack, you can't win. The simple fact that you can't lay a hand on me shows everyone that it had to have been your friends that jumped me from behind. All you can hope for is that you land a lucky punch that gives you an advantage. But we both know that isn't goin' happen. The story will end here with you being shown as the coward you are and you gettin' your butt kicked will just be the frosting on the cake."

"I hate you. You have ruined everything! I won't quit 'til you're dead in the cold ground you son-of-a-bitch."

Jack ran at Ray with his fist leading the way. Ray knocked his right hand aside and stepped in close, striking Jack's face with several blows from both his fists. Jack wobbled on his feet; Ray stepped back a little and brought a right cross into contact with Jack's jaw. Jack crumbled to the ground, unconscious.

Ray walked to where he had dropped his saddle, picked it up, and headed for Horse. Larry and John were standing next to the remuda with their horses already saddled.

"Well looks like you've started your day off makin' friends as usual, Ray," said John.

"Just mount up and let's get out on the trail. I seem to have more trouble in the camp than I do out there with the Sioux."

"I hope that doesn't change. Larry and I are both gonna be ridin' with ya today. Quincy thought since we have to get so far out that another set of eyes would be a good idea," said John.

"Sounds good to me, the three of us ridin' together again. Let's go!" Ray called out as they rode out onto the trail heading west.

### Chapter 26

### Deep Creek

"Ask the conductor what our next stop is and how much longer before we get there," ordered Samantha Foster.

Phillip leaned out of the window of the stagecoach and started calling to the conductor to gain his attention. "Sir, I say sir! May I have a moment, please?"

"What can I do for you, partner?" answered the conductor as he moved his shotgun from his left hand to his right.

"Miss Foster would like to inquire as to the name of our next stop and how much further do we have until we arrive?"

"Well that ain't always easy to answer out here, friend. But figurin' we left Burnt Canyon a couple hours ago, I'd say we've got maybe another two or three hours until we reach Deep Creek. We'll be stoppin' there to change horses and get some vittles," said the conductor as he scratched an itch.

"Thank you kindly sir, I will pass your information on to Miss Foster," said Phillip to the back of the conductor's head as he had already turned away.

"What did he say, Phillip? I can't take this much longer," barked Samantha.

"Now, now, Miss Foster, calm yourself and I will tell you."

"Don't patronize me, Phillip! Now, what did he say?'

"Yes, Miss Foster, I forget myself, I do beg your forgiveness, Miss Foster."

"Shut up Phillip and for God's sake tell me what he said!" snapped Samantha.

"Oh yes, well the Conductor told me that he thought we would arrive in two or three hours at a place called Dry Creek. There we will take on new horses and have some dinner."

"Thank God. This coach has been a living nightmare. I cannot endure much more of this. I'm covered in dust and I have sand climbing halfway up my body."

"Miss Foster, please, please don't say things like that. You're a lady," scolded Phillip who had had all the dirt, filth, cussing and crass western ways he could stand. He was desperate for the cleanliness of the East, and wondered if he would ever get back to New York or Boston, where people were civilized.

"Lady? Phillip, this stage has just about knocked all the lady right out of me," shouted Samantha.

"I understand your hardship Miss Foster. Once we reach Dry Creek there will be a place where you can freshen up a bit, I'm sure."

"I dearly hope so or there will be hell to pay!" pouted Samantha.

The stage continued at a fast pace throwing dust and sand through the open windows. Suddenly the front wheel dropped down into the edge of a small dry riverbed and landed flatly into the center of the sand bottom. The impact forced the occupants on the stage to compress down into their seats. About the time they recovered, the coach lurched up the opposite side of the creek, flinging its passengers up off their seats and into the air. Phillip struck his head against the topside of the coach. Samantha ended up flailing to the coach floor with her dress blown up around her waist and her feet straight up in the air.

"Damn it!" shouted Samantha.

"Miss!" shouted Phillip as he rubbed his sore head.

"Go to hell, Phillip! I'm done riding!" cried Samantha.

"Go to hell you say. By all accounts Miss, I believe I have been there for the last several weeks," sighed Phillip. Recovering himself he looked to Samantha, "I'm sure it isn't much further Miss Foster," said Phillip in his attempt to comfort her.

All he got for his trouble was a look that could kill.

There were still many long, bumpy, dirty miles down the trail before the coach finally pulled into the Dry Creek Station. It was nothing to get excited about, but out here it was more than they had expected. There was a large house, with a barn sitting near the stagecoach station with fields surrounded by fences.

"Surely there will be a place here to freshen up before a proper dinner is served," stated Samantha as she tried to wipe some of the dirt from her face with her dusty handkerchief.

"Ho horses, ho!" shouted the driver as he pulled the team into the front of the station building.

Jumping down from the box the conductor extended a hand to assist Samantha from the coach. "Hope the ride ain't been too unpleasant Ma'am," smiled the conductor.

At first Samantha just glared at the man. Finally she took his hand and stepped from the coach. When her feet were on the ground her legs buckled under her. The conductor grabbed her to keep her from falling to the ground.

"Unhand me, you vile man. Take your hands off me, how dare you touch me in such a way!" screamed Samantha as she slapped his hands away.

"Ma'am I was only tryin' to catch ya before you fell. I wasn't tryin' to touch ya, no way. Why I'm spoken for, my wife would kill me if she thought I was a grabbin' other women, I mean ladies. Ma'am, no sir, I wasn't grabbin' nothin', ma'am," stuttered the conductor as his face turned beet red.

"Yes well I'm fine now," said Samantha as she straightened her dress, getting her land legs back under her. "Where is there a place where I can freshen up before dinner?"

"Well ma'am that would be up to the house, there. The family that runs this station is real nice and they let us have the run of the place," said the conductor, recovering from his emotional duress.

"What about in the station, don't they have a room?" asked Samantha, a little put out by having to walk up to the house.

"Ma'am, you don't want to spend much more time in the station than you have to. Why the flies are usually about an inch thick in there," replied the conductor.

"Then where do we eat? I can't eat in a place like that!" asked Samantha, with an angry look on her face.

"Well Ma'am most do suffer through and eat inside. Afraid of catching an arrow I guess. Myself, I always bring my vittles out here to eat. I grab a chair from inside and find me a place that ain't too hot and sit right down. It's too damn, excuse me Ma'am, it's too hot outside for the flies. Would ya like it if I was to fetch you a plate and chair and bring it out here for ya?" offered the conductor.

"That sounds better than sitting in there. I will return for dinner after I freshen up," waived Samantha as she dismissed the conductor and walked towards the house.

"Well I'll be," was all the conductor could think to say as he scratched the top of his balding head. He then turned and headed for the front door of the station with the driver and Phillip in tow. Phillip was shocked to see that the conductor had not exaggerated the situation but had actually played down the level of foulness of the station. Flies were covering every square inch of the place. And no wonder, it looked like no one had cleaned it in years. Phillip quickly turned around and headed back outside before he vomited his empty stomach. From behind he heard the conductor tell him to find a spot outside and that he'd fetch the vittles out to them.

Phillip was relieved that he didn't have to go back into that den of filth, until he remembered his dinner was coming from inside there. He leaned over a small bush next to the coach and emptied his stomach.

Samantha strolled back from the main house swinging her bonnet in her hand and singing a song quietly to herself. She looked out to her surroundings and what she saw made her feel good.

What an absolutely awful place, dirt and dust everywhere, not a tree to be found to shade you from the sun. Work all day in the blistering heat and for what? Places that people only stop at for a few moments and can't wait to flee. "I am so fortunate that I have so much money. I can live anywhere I want, do anything I want, and I can act any way I want," thought Samantha gleefully.

Samantha joined the men sitting on chairs in the shade of the stagecoach.

"Here you go Miss; I saved you a chair here. It's shady and there's a little breeze that comes by once in awhile." The conductor waved his hand towards the empty chair. "I got you some vittles too. They're under the cloth. I didn't want the flies to take a notion and get into your food."

Phillip caught a small surge in his throat at the words, flies and food. "Miss Foster, did you find adequate facilities to meet your needs?"

"They were just adequate, but I didn't expect much more from a dirty coach station way out here in this God forsaken land," spouted Samantha.

"Why Ma'am, you got no call sayin' that about this country. Why I was born just on the other side of those hills there. I grew up around here, and loved every minute of it," protested the driver. "Why, even my precious mother was laid to rest just about a mile from here."

"Do you still live around here?" questioned Samantha.

"Why no Ma'am, I live in Independence now," the driver said proudly.

"Then I guess I was right. Not a place where anyone would want to live," dismissed Samantha, eating a couple bites and then throwing the food onto the ground. "I can't wait to get to civilization so I can have a decent meal. If you think I'm going to give a good account of this trip to your company, you have another thing coming!" Samantha rose from her chair and strolled off away from the station and the coach.

"Miss, I'd be careful wanderin' too far from the station, there's Indians about," called the Conductor.

"Hush will ya, maybe the Indians will get her and we won't have to put up with any more of her shit," whispered the driver to the conductor.

"You're dreaming partner. The Indians would just throw that one back," laughed the conductor.

Phillip rose from his seat pretending he did not hear their whispers, not wanting to give away his true opinion of Miss Foster.

"Okay folks let's get in the coach, the horses are ready to go!" called the driver as he lifted his tired bones from the chair. "Now where in hell did that hurricane of fire get off to?"

"She was walking right over there just a second ago. Shit, you don't reckon...?" panicked the conductor.

"Oh hold on, there she is over there by the well. Probably had to kick a couple dogs and their pups before she left," laughed the driver.

At that Phillip let out an uncontrollable snicker, which he quickly tried to cover up with his hand over his mouth and a smothered cough. Trying not to look at the stage men, he headed quickly towards the coach.

"Come on Miss Foster! We need to get back on the trail. Wouldn't want to hang around here too damn long," said the driver sarcastically.

As the driver began to turn away, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye near Miss Foster. He turned quickly back to see what had moved. Just then, from a hiding place flat on the ground, a brave rose and charged head long toward the back of the girl. "Miss Foster! Behind you! Run!" yelled the driver as he pulled his revolver from its holster.

"Miss. Behind you!" yelled the conductor as he grabbed his shotgun from the boot and ran in the direction of the attack.

Samantha could hear their warning and see the men running toward her. She turned her head to see the fierce savage bearing down on her. The brave was less than forty feet away, when Samantha calmly bent over, raised the hem of her skirt slightly and pulled a small derringer from a holster strapped to her leg. She rose erect and extended her arm the full length from her body, seemingly enjoying the thrill, before she squeezed off one shot. To the amazement of the crowd that was now running to her aid, the brave curled over backwards and collapsed at Samantha's feet. She emptied the spent shell from the gun and replaced it with a new round from a small purse she had hanging from her wrist. Upon returning her gun to the concealed holster, she brushed herself off, turned, and strolled towards the coach like nothing had ever happened.

The driver and conductor stood, stock-still, with their mouths hanging open as she walked past.

"Holy shit, did ya see that? She got him right between the eyes. One shot at a running target and she nailed him. I ain't gonna bother that one the rest of the trip," cautioned the driver.

"You ain't alone there, partner," promised the conductor as he removed his hat and wiped out the sweat from inside.

### Chapter 27

### Loss

Ray, Larry and John rode the whole day without seeing any more Sioux and none of them said anything about it, not wanting to jinx their luck. That night they rode back into camp and reported to Quincy what lay ahead. Quincy approached Ray with sadness in his eyes and reluctantly tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Ray, I got some bad news. I know you are fond of that little Potts girl. Well she picked up an illness back at Ft. Laramie and she don't look too good," spoke Quincy.

"Where is she, Mr. Woods?"

"Well, the doctor thought it best if they set her family off a little from the rest of the train. He thinks it could be cholera," explained Quincy as he rung his hands together.

"Where, Mr. Woods?" Ray repeated.

"At the end of the wagons. They had no choice Ray. It could spread."

Ray didn't respond. He just jumped back onto Horse and rode at a full gallop to the end of the wagons. There, a few hundred yards from the last edge of the circle sat the lone wagon. They had a small fire burning close by the rear of the Conestoga. Ray could see what must have been Ida's mother carrying a cooking pot of hot liquid into the back of the wagon. As Ray closed on the wagon, Ida's Pa stepped out toward him, "Hold up there young fella, there may be Cholera here!"

"I don't care!" Ray said as he threw himself from Horse's back and walked swiftly towards the rear of the wagon. Stopping at the closed flaps, out of breath, he called out to Ida, "Miss Potts, it's me, Ray. I understand you're a little under the weather?"

From the wagon, all he could hear was a small, tender bit of a whisper, answering his call, "don't you worry about me, Mr. Ray. I'll be up and helping you catch that girl first thing tomorrow morning."

"Now, don't you worry about that Miss Potts. You just take care of yourself and get well," Ray encouraged.

"I think I better...sleep now...Mr. Ray...thank you for..." ended Ida.

The flap opened and Ida's mother handed Ray the cooking pot of warm water she had carried into the wagon. She then climbed down from the back onto the ground in front of him. Ray looked into her eyes for any sign of hope, but her face told the awful truth. Her eyes were blood shot and filled with tears. Her features were torn with the pain of knowing she would never again hold her little baby.

"I'm sorry...Ray...she's..." was all her mother could say as she turned and buried her face into her husband's neck. He held his wife and shed silent tears of his own.

Ray stepped back, staring at the wagon that held his small friend. This had to be a bad dream. God would not take one so precious as Ida.

Ray turned in anger and running to Horse's side swung his leg up and over the saddle. Kicking hard into a full gallop, he rode east, away from the wagons and headed out into the darkness. Ray spent the night alone with his thoughts first of his father, then Zeke, then Ida and then upon his ma, who he had not seen in several months. He emotion measured both angry and sadness at the death of Ida. He felt so helpless. What can one do to avenge a death like this?

By first light he was back in camp with a cup of coffee in his hand staring into the cook fire.

"Ray, there you are. I heard about...well I'm so sorry...I know you really liked that little girl...who didn't...she was very special," Laurie tried to comfort Ray.

"I'll be all right, Laurie, but thank you. She was something special, wasn't she?"

"She sure was," smiled Laurie as she reached over and rubbed his shoulder.

As fate would have it, Ida was the only one to contract cholera on the train. Everyone was thankful for their survival, but all were truly touched and saddened by the loss of the sweet little girl called Ida.

-CKS-

The trail for the next several weeks seemed like a long dusty thread with no end. Ray couldn't wait until they reached Salt Lake. There the boys would be leaving the train. While the train continued on westward across the Sierras, they would head south through the desert to reach Southern California. Ray would miss the folks on the train; they were all trail hardened, diligent, and giving people. Many would give you the shirt off their backs and some had already done just that for others less fortunate.

### Chapter 28

### The Kiss

Larry, John, Richard, Laurie and Ray, were all sitting around the campfire laughing and preparing to leave sometime the next day. They had reached the cutoff and were saying good-bye to people who would remain long time friends. Larry and Richard were both a little drunk and were standing on the other side of the fire facing them. Each was telling whoppers to see who could get the biggest laugh. Their sides were busting as they rolled around the ground. They were laughing so hard they hadn't noticed Quincy walking up behind them. He stood for a while listening and chuckling at what he heard. But when Larry saw his face he could tell Quincy had something important to discuss.

"Quincy, is there something on your mind?" asked Larry.

Quincy looked around the group for a moment, taking in all the faces. You could tell he had something to say that was caught in his throat.

"Boys, Miss, can I have a minute?"

"Sure Quincy, what did you want to say?" asked Ray as he rose to his feet.

"Well, damn it, I sure hate to ask this, knowing how bad you want to get clear of these wagons, and how much you want to catch up to your ma. But for the sake of the train and myself, I just got to ask it."

"Come on Quincy, what is it?" asked John.

"Okay boys. Here it is in a nutshell. A few years back, comin' up through the Big Basin country, I took an arrow in the chest. The head was sittin' right in the middle of a bunch of important stuff, so none of my riding partners wanted the privilege of digging it out."

"So, when did they finally take the arrow head out of your chest?" asked Larry.

"They never did. They just cut it off at the skin, seared it with a hot knife blade, and let it heal over. I had the fever for about two weeks but pulled through. Hell, I forgot all about it until the spot started turnin' red a few weeks ago. The Ft. Laramie sawbones told me to start puttin' my affairs together, so I did. Now listen, I don't much worry about livin' or dyin'. Hell I figure when it's your time, it's your time, and things are changin' all around us for men like me, and not for the better. Anyways, an old trail boss like me ain't got nothin' in his future, cept'n a porch and a porch chair to sit in. Well turns out a porch ain't the only thing I have; I got me a ranch down near Pueblo de Los Angeles. Now I know you're itchin' to get there and this wagon train is goin' plum slower than a snail's pace. But if you boys will stick with me over the pass, the ranch is yours. That includes all the horses and cattle that are a grazin' there. What do you say?"

"Hell, Quincy, if you need us that bad, we'll stick with you, won't we boys? Ray said looking around the group. "And you don't have to give up your ranch to get our help."

"You don't understand Ray, the ranch is already yours. I done wired ahead from Ft. Laramie and had the deed changed into your name. I got no one that I'd trust to give that ranch to, cept'n you. Besides, when you catch up to your ma you'll be able to look after her. Think about it and let me know your decision," said Quincy as he turned to walk away into the night.

Ray looked quickly around the group, "Listen boys, whatever's mine is yours, share and share alike."

After a quick vote Ray called after Quincy, "We'll be in the saddle in the morning Quincy."

After a few hours of sitting around the fire and talking, each began to rise and move off to their bedrolls. Ray remained behind at the fire and filled himself another cup of coffee. Half way into his thoughts he was startled by the sound of someone approaching him from behind.

"Ray? May I speak to you, please? Now if you don't want me to...I will understand...but..." came a soft voice from behind him.

Ray rose to his feet and turned to face her. He had never thought about it before but he now saw that he was a full head taller than her. She was even more beautiful with the light of a fire dancing across her face.

"Of course, Morgan, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well... I wanted to apologize... for the way I've been treating you. When we first met, I thought you were...well never mind...I'm sure you already know what I thought."

"I have a pretty good idea."

"Well, anyway, I want you to know, I was wrong. I've broken it off with Jack."

Looking into her eyes, Ray was melting inside but also felt a strength he had never felt before. He did not want to lose this girl. He desperately needed her at his side. This desperation grew until he could hold it down no longer. Ray placed both of his hands on her shoulders. She did not pull away. Her acceptance of his touch gave Ray confidence, and he pulled her closer to him.

"Morgan, I've loved you since the first day I saw you. I can't think of going through another day without you knowing how I feel." She looked up into his eyes, tilting her head slightly to the left. He placed his lips softly onto hers and kissed her gently. He wasn't sure, but Ray thought she kissed him back.

"Ray, I thought I knew what love was. I thought I was in love with Jack, but when I met you I discovered I was wrong. I was just in love with the idea of being in love. My heart aches when you're not near me. When I thought I'd hurt you, had lost you, I couldn't stop crying. Ray Cooper, I love you so much."

Looking into each other's eyes for an electrifying moment, Ray pulled her to him and they kissed. Wrapping his arms around her soft, small frame he held her tight. Kissing her neck and ear, the smell of her hair was like a sweet tonic, possessing his very sole. Her warm breath on his neck sent chills up his spine. Morgan leaned away in order to look into Ray's face. Her big brown eyes were filled with such passion that Ray's blood began to boil. "Morgan, you will never loose me, I'm all in."
Chapter 29

### Straight Ahead

Climbing the Sierras was an obvious strain on the horses. At one point the conductor stopped the stage, dismounted, and entered the coach. There he began to lighten the load by tossing bags of mail out of the door onto the side of the trail.

"Are your superiors aware of your indiscretions?" asked Samantha as she leaned over onto Phillip to remain out of the way of the flying bags.

"Don't worry ma'am. The next stage through will pick them up or we'll gather them when we come back through again," answered the conductor as he left the coach and climbed back on top.

Phillip stuck his head out of the open doorway and yelled, "Now see here my good man, that is U.S. mail, you can't leave it along the trail like that."

"It's like this partner. Either the mail gets out or you do. It's all about the weight. We ain't going to make it, less we lighten the load," explained the driver.

"Oh, well I see, then, yes of course, by all means, let's drive on," muttered Phillip as he shut the door and latched it closed.

-CKS-

John Lane had risen early, having counted the days until he was able to finish his assignment and move on. Sitting at a great vantage point to observe the separation of the wagons from his quarry, he couldn't help but get a little excited at the thought of taking that shot with no one around. He would be free to continue the hunt on the other companions, and make plans for that girl that had become so friendly with that great big foreigner who was hanging around Ray Cooper and his friends. She could be a nice diversion out in the desert. Probably keep a man nice and warm on those cold desert nights.

Lane rose from his sitting position as he observed from a distance. Ray mounted up, rode over to one of the wagons and looked like he was embracing a young woman. Perhaps a good-bye gesture since Ray would be heading south now and would never see that gal again. John and Larry trotted out from between a couple wagons near the front. Ray pulled his mounts head around and rode to join John and Larry.

"Finally, here they go, and the hunt begins," said Lane to himself. "Odd that they have no pack animals. It looks as if they're carrying only a day's worth of provisions on their horses. What the hell is goin' on here?" Lane whispered to himself.

Ray, John, and Larry took point and started to head northwest as they had done for so many mornings.

"Damn it!" shouted Lane to no one that could hear him, "Where the hell do you think you're going? You need to turn south, I have you, I've waited, I...damn it."

Lane sat back down on the ground and watched in dismay as the three led each wagon out onto the California Trail.

"Okay. This changes things, but I'll still get my shot," promised Lane as he rose, mounted up and rode out to head off the three riders.

-CKS-

At long last the stage reached its destination: Pueblo de Los Angeles.

"Phillip if you ever talk me into riding in that type of conveyance again I will shoot you!" said Samantha with a frown.

"But Miss Foster, I didn't...yes Miss Foster, never again," answered Phillip, who by this time was completely beaten down. All he could think about was getting away from Samantha as quickly as possible.

"Conductor, I want you to have our bags taken to the best hotel this very second. I wish to freshen up without delay," instructed Samantha as she stepped down from the coach and walked up onto the boardwalk.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll jump down right now and fetch them. You just follow me. The hotel right behind you is the best establishment in town," said the conductor, with a warm smile, more from knowing that he was finally shedding this woman from his sight than for the sake of politeness.

Entering the hotel with a whirlwind of instructions, Samantha was quickly shown to the finest room on the top floor. A bath in the room was filled with hot water, and soaps and perfumes of Samantha's choice were set out. While she lounged in the bath, Phillip went about unpacking all of her bags. Anticipating her need for a long nap he pulled back her sheets, and walked over to the closed bath door.

"Miss Foster, I have your things put away and your bed turned down in case you wish to retire. If it is alright with you, I would like to leave you for a few moments to unpack my things and clean up," asked Phillip, a questioning plea in his voice.

"Not yet Phillip!" came the voice that he had grown so tired of. "First I need you to inquire as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Cooper. That shouldn't take you very long at all."

If Samantha could see Phillip's face at that very moment she would have screamed murder. "Yes Miss Foster, I will see what I can find out," said Phillip through clinched teeth.

"Don't come back unless you have something Phillip. If you need to hire help, then do so."

Phillip turned and marched across the large room, out the door and into the hallway. Outside, he began planning his escape from this horrible woman.

### Chapter 30

### The Sierras

Ray had loved living in Wisconsin; he'd thought there was no other place more beautiful until he reached the Sierras. The mountains rose above him with such power and divine presence. The green vistas rolled up the sides to a rocky crest, which pushed its way to the top. He would have loved to have seen the tops of the mountains covered with snow, like in some of the photographs Ma had shown him, but for the sake of survival he was glad to see them dry. To add to the grandeur of this sanctuary was the fresh mountain air that filled his lungs so fully. The fragrances in the high country stimulated every portion of his mind. The views and smells must have been inspiring others in the caravan as well; he could hear Florence and Sis singing gospel songs with their new convert.

"Boys, it's time we put a little distance between us and the wagons to make sure we have a place ready for tonight's camp." Horse was more than ready to gallop through the meadows ahead. The fresh air and cooler temperature seemed to have the same effect on the horses as well.

They were happy to cross several wide but shallow streams, each carrying enough water to quench all the stock's thirst. They turned to join the Humboldt River and began the trek across the dangerous but majestic Sierra Madras.

It wasn't long before they began to taste the flurry of changes in the higher elevations. The warm sunny day quickly changed as a thunderhead rolled in over a nearby ridge. The smell of moisture filled the air as they stopped their mounts and examined the sky for a chance of rain.

"I think it would be a very good idea if we moved out of this open meadow and into those trees over there," Ray said. "I'd hate to see one of you old boys lit up by a bolt of lightnin'. Besides, we should get back to the wagons. If it's going to storm the wagon train is going to need our help."

Within half an hour they were soaked to the skin. The rain was coming down so heavily they could hardly see the trail ahead of them, or rather what was left of it. As they came upon their wagon train it was obvious the rain was having an adverse effect on their forward progress. Wagon wheels were bogging down in the mud and oxen bellowed at the added drag they had to endure as they tried to pull the wagons into a circle of sorts. The trail ran between tall canyon walls, making it impossible for the wagon to circle completely. They each pulled up close behind the wagon ahead and began to disconnect the beasts from their burdens. Large tarps were dragged out from under the wagons. The same tarp that once carried the buffalo chips for the nightly fires was now stretched out above the ground to create a dry space for the cooking fires.

With dry clothes on, a cup of coffee in his hand, and all the wagons at rest for the night, Ray joined his friends by the fire.

Staring out from under the tarp Ray could see that the rain was building up and running fast down the trail next to them, causing large ruts.

Quincy walked up beside him and looked out at the rain falling through the setting sun. "Well, we sure as hell didn't need this," sighed Quincy.

"Is this going to put us in a bind?" Ray asked.

"Only if it doesn't let up soon. The ground along most of the trail will dry out pretty fast in the direct sun, but I'm concerned about the shaded canyons. If we hit mud we'll have to stop and wait it out. Starting tomorrow you'll need to try and keep us out of the mud but not too far off the trail."

"Alright. Do you think we'll hit the trail tomorrow?"

"Ray, I don't know. I've seen it rain like this for an hour and blow off. Then again I've seen it rain for what seemed like weeks. Let's just hope that old Lady Luck is still with us," answered Quincy as he walked away.

"Ray, is everything okay?" asked Morgan as she walked up to him with a plate of food.

"Yes, we're okay. No sense in worryin' about somethin' that hasn't happened yet. Come on, let's join the others by the fire," Ray said as he placed his hand on the small of Morgan's back and guided her towards the warm fire.

Above the wagon camp, alone in a quickly built lean-to, sat the hunter. Soaked to the bone and unable to light a fire for warmth for fear it would give away his presence, Lane stared down from his aerie at the campfires burning below. The rain had all but washed his patience away. He could not wait any longer. If he could just make out Ray's image in the glow of the fire he would attempt a shot. But in the darkness and pouring rain he knew that was impossible. "Tomorrow," he thought, "it has to wait until tomorrow."

The next morning the rain had let up some. The wagons would not be moving until the trail had some time to dry. On horseback, Larry, John and Ray found it difficult for the horses to climb the steep trail. Their hooves were either sinking into the mud or slipping on the mud-covered rocks. When they reached the top of the rise they found themselves looking out onto a long high altitude valley with mountains running its length. The valley had to be at least a half-mile wide with the trail running down the right side. Taking the trail they headed across the valley. Even after the heavy rains last night and the light rain now, the trail seemed to drain well and was not difficult to travel. They decided to ride the trail as far as it stayed dry, short of exceeding a day's journey for the wagons. The dryness of the trail really lifted their spirits. They knew what it meant to be bogged down in the Sierras with winter coming.

After riding about ten miles up the trail they realized that even though it was still passable on horseback, that even in good weather the wagons would not be able to exceed this spot. They turned around and headed back for the wagons.

Riding side by side their thoughts were broken by the crack of a rifle shot. Ray felt an impact to his left shoulder as Larry was thrown out of his saddle. It took a few seconds to realize what had just happened. "Take cover boys someone's shooting at us!" Ray shouted as he hit the ground and rolled to the side of the trail.

Just then another rifle shot rang out, throwing up muddy dirt into Ray's face as he laid as flat as he could in a small depression.

"Anyone see where he is?" called John from behind a small rock on the other side of the trail.

"Yeah, I saw smoke from up on that ridge to your right, Ray," pointed Larry.

Another round fired and fragments from the rock that was protecting John sprayed back, peppering the right side of his face.

"Shit, that hurts," cried John.

"You hit John?" Ray called.

"Just some pieces of rock. I'm okay?" answered John. "You guys okay?"

"I think I got nicked in the shoulder because it hurts like hell, but I can't move to check it. He has me pinned down, but I'm still good, Larry, how about you?"

"I think I'm hit pretty solid in the arm. I was bleedin' really bad but I tied my handkerchief around it, I'll live," said Larry, positioning his rifle where he had grabbed as he was falling from his saddle.

"Well boys," John was interrupted by another shot. "Any ideas? We can't sit here forever."

"At the count of three we beat it over to those rocks at the base of the ridge. John, you go to the far left, Larry to the far right and I'll go for the center, from there, we'll have to try and work our way up and around him. It's our only chance, or he'll just take his time and pick us off one by one."

"Okay, Ray, count it off!" said Larry.

"One, two, THREE!" Ray jumped to his feet and at that moment the air filled with lead flying all around him. Trying not to think about the tugs he felt on his body, he kept the rocks as his goal. Finally reaching cover Ray fell in behind its protection. There he was able to check his body for bullet wounds. He had a deep gouge in his left shoulder, bullet burn on his left hip, a couple holes in his shirt, but no solid hits.

"Everybody okay?" Ray called out.

"I'm as good as can be expected," responded Larry, out of breath.

"I second that," answered John. "Now can we get that son-of-a-bitch?"

"Let's do it! Larry, go wide to the right and John, you go to the left. I'm going up the middle, again. If you get a clear shot, by all means, take it."

While Larry and John worked their way up the sides under little fire, each time Ray stuck his head out and headed for the next rock he received a hail of bullets. It became pretty obvious that Ray was the bushwhacker's target and that he didn't care much about the others. An hour of desperate climbing found them in position for the final assault.

"Can you see him, Larry?" called John from the opposite side.

"He's not there. I can see where he was hunkered down but he ain't there no more. I'm goin' in," said Larry as he crawled forward. After a few moments, "Come on in boys, he's gone."

Ray rose and slipped up to the top and dropped into the bushwhacker's abandoned nest.

"See that, small pile of smoked cigarettes and a dozen or more spent shells, Ray? He was sitting here waiting for us for some time," concluded John

"Well, let's get back to the wagons and get Larry's arm looked after," said Ray.

The ride back down that slippery hillside tugged at every wound each time the horses' hooves slid off the soft mud. Ray couldn't let them see him cringe with each burn, since he figured Larry was hurt the worst and wasn't complaining. Damn it, he wished Larry would cry out so he could join him.

After a quick inspection it was determined that Larry's arm was going to be fine. Laurie had cleaned it up and found that the bullet had passed clear through the arm. Morgan was having fun adding more than usual the amount of alcohol to Ray's wound. He wasn't sure if she was trying to add insurance against infection or adding pain because she was mad that he had gotten himself shot.

"I'm just asking, Why anyone would want to shoot at you?" Morgan asked with an angry scowl on her face.

"No idea," Ray lied. "I think it was a Paiute that was interested in one of our horses."

"Well, maybe," thought Morgan out loud. "But you really must be more careful!"

"Yes, Ma'am," Ray said with a reassuring smile.

Morgan threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close. Over his shoulder he could hear her begin to cry. She pulled back quickly, wiping the tears from her eyes and pulling her emotions back into check.

"It's okay to cry, Morgan," said Laurie as she placed her hand on her shoulder.

"A Western woman needs to be stronger than that. I'll save my crying until there is absolutely nothing else left to do," spoke Morgan as she strained to calm her tears.

After the dinner fires had drifted to just ambers, Ray headed for his bedroll. Morgan and the rest had already bedded down for the night. Richard still slept outside of Laurie's wagon on the cold ground with Larry, John, and Ray not far off. Since spending so many nights on the trail, Ray had grown accustomed to sleeping under the stars. But tonight, instead of stars over-head it would have to be a tarp. It was still raining! The sound of thunder echoed through the canyons as the lightening lit the black sky. Ray finally drifted off to sleep, listening to an owl hooting into the night and the tapping of the raindrops falling from the pines onto the tarps.

Lane stood at the edge of the camp. He watched as each of them had headed off to their nightspots. The light left from the fires was low enough that the man on watch would be able to see a man walking through camp was not an Indian, but not light enough to allow identification.

Lane stepped out of the brush and slowly strolled across the camp, touching the handle of his blade to assure himself it was there and ready to be used. "But not yet," he thought to himself. "I must get closer." Lane was trying to walk like someone who had just returned from a night visit to the bushes. The falling rain on the wagon canvas and the stretched tarps successfully muffled the sound of his approach. Stopping over Ray's form, Lane looked down at him with a confident smile. He then looked around the camp to make sure no one was watching.

Lane slowly slid the long, wide blade from its protective sheath. Lowering himself down quietly, placing his knees into the soft ground next to Ray's body. He raised the knife over his head, preparing to drive the blade deep into Ray's chest. At the exact same time, lightening lit the night sky, reflecting the shadow of Richard approaching Lane from behind. Lane moved quickly. He rose, turned and drove his blade up into Richard's ribs. The blade set fast, making it hard for Lane to pull it out and strike again. Richard stepped back a half step and looked down at the handle sticking out of his chest. His head rose and in his rage filled eyes bore into Lane's face. Lane stood in awe. Never had he seen anyone take his blade to the hilt and still remain standing. Richard slapped both his hands to the sides of Lane's head and lifted his entire body up off the ground. Lane had to do something and do something now. He reached for the butt of his .44, drew it from its holster, pushed the barrel into Richard's stomach and pulled the trigger. Smoke from the shot rose between them as the sound of cracking filled the night air. Richard's strong grasp on Lane's limp body released and he fell outside the covering of the tarp and into the mud and falling rain. Lane was dead the moment Richard had crushed his skull. Ray was on his feet and at Richard's side as he began to fall, trying to guide him down to dry ground. By this time many of the wagons in the area had emptied and occupants began to circle around the bloody scene.

Tearing Richard's shirt open Ray could see the point in which the blade had entered his chest. The bullet hole was just a little lower. He grabbed hold of the knife handle and pulled it free. Richard did not move or respond to his actions as he had already blacked out.

"Richard!" screamed Laurie as she pushed through the wall of people.

She fell to her knees next to Richard and began to survey the damage to his body, working fast and hard through tear filled eyes. Richard's breathing became quite shallow. He was coughing but no foam was seen on his lips, indicating that the bullet or knife had not compromised the lungs. Laurie pressed her hand into the open pocket of flesh created by the knife and was able to plug the flow of blood. She then ordered them to roll Richard over so she could check the exit wound. All she found was a bluing color developing on Richard's back. She placed her fingers against the bluing and around the immediate area, as she demanded someone to provide her with a small knife. Within the growing crowd someone extended a hand with a small pocketknife, which she grabbed.

"Take and put the blade in the fire, then bring it back to me, and hurry," said Laurie.

Ray jumped up with the knife and ran to the ambers. Kicking them around and adding a little wood he soon had a good hot flame to place the knife blade in. After about a minute Ray returned to Laurie's side. Grabbing the knife from his hand, she placed the point of the knife to the blue area growing on Richard's back. With an index finger searching for its quarry, the knife blade waited to do its work. When her finger found what she was searching for she pushed the side of the knife along her finger until the point sliced into Richard's flesh. With a couple hard twists, forcing the blade in deeper, she finally rose with a bloody knife, fingers, and bullet. Morgan, standing above Laurie, reached down and tore a large piece of material from her single petticoat. She handed it to Laurie, who immediately forced it into the open wound on Richard's back.

"Okay that should hold him for the moment, we need to get him into the wagon," said Laurie.

"What wagon do you want him in, Laurie?" asked John, who had arrived late.

"In my wagon, of course," demanded Laurie.

"You heard her boys, let's all get him up and into her wagon," Ray said as he directed several of the men so that Richard was lifted safely.

Ray helped Laurie and Morgan get him undressed. Then the women went about cleaning out the wounds with whiskey and applied bandages. Richard regained consciousness just long enough for Laurie to dump the rest of the whiskey down his throat.

With nothing more that could be done but wait, Morgan climbed out of the back of the wagon and stood for a moment, allowing the cool rain to splash down onto her face. She then moved in under the tarp where she wrapped her arm around Ray's waist and leaned against him.

"How does he look?" Ray asked

"Not good. He's a big man, and strong. Hopefully that will help him to pull through.

"With plenty of sleep and a lot of luck we may get our friend back," sighed Morgan.

"He saved my life. If he hadn't come along just then, I'd be laying there with that knife in me instead of in him. I owe that man. I want to do anything I can to help."

"Well all anyone can do now is pray," said Morgan. "Now, tell me about that man lying over there, the one you told me was a Paiute."

### Chapter 31

### Mrs. Cooper

After entering several saloons in town and exiting them even faster, Phillip walked into the Silver Dollar. He was not happy about having to visit yet another filthy den of unwashed barbarians who smelled of sweat, smoke, and farts. He also hated spending money on a brew he had no intention of drinking. This establishment however, he could feel almost comfortable in. Maybe it was because he had been in so many rotgut saloons that it just made this one seem so much better. Phillip quietly moved to the far corner of the bar, well away from any of the cowboys that may have tried to interact with him.

"Bartender, Mr. Bartender may I ask you a few questions? I'm trying to find someone."

The bartender looked twice at the dude standing at the end of the bar. What you drinkin'?"

"Well, beer, I guess?"

The bartender reached down and grabbed a mug from behind the bar and filled it with a frothy liquid before placing it in front of Phillip. Then he leaned up against the bar across from him.

"We don't get a lot of fancy dudes in here," said the bartender, as he looked Phillip over, trying to figure out whom he might be.

"Who you lookin' for, fancy dude?" inquired the bartender.

"Well, my name is Phillip, but I guess that doesn't much matter. I'm looking for a Mrs. Cooper. She should be in her mid forties, dark hair, attractive. She's from Wisconsin and I believe she's probably only been here a few months," described Phillip.

"I think I know the lady you're talkin' about. She's rentin' the little house on the east end of town. It's a little white house with green shudders and flowers out front."

"You sure seem to know the place pretty well," said Phillip.

"I ought to. I used to live there until the owner tossed me out to let her rent it. She's been here for about two months, I reckon. Pretty nice lady, but stays to herself quite a bit. That is, when the marshal ain't around."

"What do you mean, when the marshal ain't, I mean isn't around?" asked Phillip.

"Well, folks say she's a widower and so is the marshal so I guess they've sort of struck up a friendship," smiled the bartender.

"Thank you, Sir," said Phillip as he started out of the bar.

"Hey, fancy dude, you didn't drink any of your drink," pointed out the bartender.

"I wasn't as thirsty as I thought I was," finished Phillip as he stepped out the door and headed east up the street.

Walking to the end of the block he spotted the little white house and moved across the street stopping at its small picket gate. Looking up and down the street to make sure no one saw him, he then stepped through the gate, walked up onto the porch and knocked softly at the door with his right hand. He heard footsteps approaching inside the house. The door opened slowly and a pretty face poked around the edge of the door.

"Yes sir, may I help you?" said the lady of the house.

"Mrs. Cooper, may I come in? I don't know if you remember me from the mill in Wisconsin. But I'm here with Miss Samantha Foster and I need to talk to you. It involves your son."

-CKS-

Having sat at the end of Laurie's wagon all night, Ray was greeted by a clear sky as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. Richard had suffered most of the night with fever and pain, but quieted down some this morning and was still sleeping. They all knew it was still too early to get their hopes up.

Ray had spent a good part of the evening telling Morgan about Wisconsin. About the mill and how Samantha Foster was probably responsible for Richard's injuries. He told her that Foster was probably the one sending gunslingers after them, so it might not be safe for Morgan to be too close to them. After he finished telling her their story she sat silently for a few endless moments. Would she change her mind about him? After all, Ray had killed men in his pursuit to protect his Pa's land.

Finally, she spoke. "Ray, I know we have only known each other for a short while. I know there's a lot we will learn about each other in time. When I first met you I thought you were another one of those stupid boys who thought of themselves as a ladies' man or some kind of rugged cowboy. At least that's what I thought before I really knew you. Now I know you are none of those things. Oh yes, you are a cowboy and you are a ladies' man, in the way that you're very handsome and ladies seem to really like you. But, as such, you didn't ask for that reputation, they just come to you naturally. You were thrown into the frontier, into the West, where many disagreements are often settled with the drawing of fists or guns. Nothing you've told me has lessened how I feel about you. In fact, I think I love you even more." After a long embrace, Ray had said goodnight to Morgan, leaving her at the back of Laurie's wagon.

Ray found John and Larry drinking coffee and having breakfast. He joined them and discussed an idea to help some of the wagons get up and over the rise just ahead of them. They agreed it was worth a chance, so they left the comfort of the fire and searched out Quincy to see what he thought. Quincy was finishing a cup of coffee near a fire closer to the front of the train.

"Quincy, Ray here has an idea that we think just may help us out of here without having to wait for the trail to dry anymore," spouted Larry with excitement as he slapped Ray on the back.

"If it gets us going today, I'm all for it," smiled Quincy, "What's the idea boys?"

"Well, yesterday we told you it was dry enough for the wagons on the other side of the ridge, right?"

"Yes Ray, but it's still wet and slippery on this side," stated Quincy.

"Okay, when we were up top I noticed there is a huge stump right at the top of the ridge right next to the trail. My thought was we hook up a block-n- tackle to that stump and run a couple ropes down this side of the slope. On top where it's dry, we hook the other end of the ropes to a team of oxen. The wagons can start out under their own power but if they start to slip, the ropes'll catch em' and the oxen can help the wagon's team the rest of the way up. We're gonna have to go up the slope one at a time anyway to keep from havin' one wagon slid back into another. The ropes would be added insurance and extra power."

Quincy scratched his head for a few minutes. Walked over to one of the wagon tongues and checked out the front portion. "Ray, I believe you got somethin' there. Each of these wagons can be secured right here on the front of the tongue. When it gets to the top the rope is run down and the next one goes over. Lets pick out eight of the best oxen we have, get them harnessed together up on the ridge and get some wagons on the other side," order Quincy.

The three of them headed to the remuda to saddle up. The men handling the herd cut out the oxen and moved them into position at the top of the hill. It wasn't long before the first wagon was heading up the steep trail. Ray chose to drive that wagon; since it had been his idea, he didn't want it tested out by anyone else. If it failed, he wanted it on his head and no one else's. The wagon actually made it quite a distance before the team grew tired and began to lose their footing. That was when Ray felt the pull from the oxen above. The team raised their heads, as the assistance was anxiously welcomed. The wagon moved straight along the trail and over the top where the family that owned the first wagon stood. Ray could tell they were relieved to get their wagon back in one piece. He jumped down from the wagon and handed the reins off to the owner and told him to pull ahead just enough to allow the next wagon into line. They didn't want the wagons lumbering down the trail with large gaps between them. There were still Paiutes in the area that would love to get their hands on some of the stock.

The day was filled with happy faces once everyone realized they would not lose too many days on their quest to clear the mountains before the snow fell. Mud got deeper as each wagon was pulled through but it didn't stop the process. By nightfall they were all on the other side of the ridge and had traveled another five miles before it was time to circle up for the night.

-CKS-

"Come in, come in" said Mrs. Cooper, as she opened the door just wide enough to allow Phillip to enter. "I do remember you. You worked for the Fosters. Now what's this about my son?" said Mrs. Cooper as she tried to hold back the tears.

"Firstly your son is not dead," said Phillip, gently.

"What? But they told me he was dead! He has to be dead. What are you talking about?" cried Mrs. Cooper.

"No, everyone thought that your son had been killed with your husband but that wasn't the case. I saw him with my own eyes," confirmed Phillip.

"I don't understand, Ray? alive? But where is he? Please, tell me the truth. You're not just trying to trick me out of some money or something? I have nothing. I live off of the charity of others and the small amount I brought with me. I'm a poor woman. Please, please," sobbed Mrs. Cooper as she covered her face with her hands.

"There, there, Mrs. Cooper. I know this is a shock. I would have tried to present it to you a little easier, but there just isn't time," explained Phillip.

"Okay, okay, I have to believe you," said Mrs. Cooper as she tried to catch her breath. "What do you mean there isn't time? Where's Ray? Where's my boy?"

"First, Ray is on the trail with a wagon train and should be here in a couple months. As for the other, as you know I work for or did work for, Miss Foster. I journeyed with her here on the stage. Her intentions toward your son are of mortal consequence. She means to bring great harm to you. To hurt Ray, and then have him killed."

"But why? It was her family that attacked my husband. Why is she after Ray?"

"Because when Ray confronted Mr. Foster at his home, Mr. Foster tried to shoot him, but Ray got the best of him. Miss Foster is not herself, she is filled with so much anger all she can think about is revenge."

"Why have you risked coming and telling me all this? I'm sure Miss Foster will not be happy with you if she is as bent on revenge as you say."

"Mrs. Cooper."

"Please call me Mildred," interrupted Mrs. Cooper.

"All right, Mildred, I have been in the employ of the Foster Family most of my life. I have always been able to remain Phillip, the butler. No matter what happened around the estate, my duties were always that of a butler. I will not be involved in the disgusting affairs I believe Miss Foster has in store. I am therefore taking the next stage to San Francisco and from there a ship to New York." Phillip concluded.

"I do not know how to thank you. You have risked so much by coming here. If you wish, there is a rear door that would allow you to enter the side alley way and go unnoticed."

"Thank you my dear lady. I will use that rear door and take my leave now."

Mildred escorted Phillip to the back door. Opening it slightly she made sure no one would see Phillip, and then stepped aside. Phillip slipped out without looking back and dashed up the alleyway. He knew his life depended on Miss Foster not finding out his plans before he could put them into action.

Waiting in her home until she was sure that Phillip was well on his way, Mildred stepped out from her front door and walked up the boardwalk towards the center of town. She stopped several times to speak with other ladies and acquaintances of hers, trying to be polite mostly to mask her intentions from any possible onlooker. She did not want to tip her hand that she was aware of any present danger by running straight to the marshal's office. Since most of Pueblo de Los Angeles had seen Mildred with the marshal, a simple stroll to the office would not or should not raise any eyebrows. She stopped out front of the jail and gave a slight sweep of the street with her eyes to see if anyone was watching her. She turned, opened the door and entered the jail.

A shadow across the street observed her glance and with a smile headed off in the opposite direction down the alley.

Entering the stone walled jail Mildred found a large, muscular, middle-aged man with slightly graying temples sitting behind his desk looking over old wanted posters.

The jail had been built to hold the toughest the West had to offer. It had strong, thick stone walls with three cells surrounded by iron bars. The front of the building was the office and to the rear was a small area for the marshal's cot and dresser. This was his home and work place under one roof.

"William," cried Mildred as she approached his desk.

"What is it Mildred?" said Marshal Larsen as he rose and came around his desk to comfort her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"If there are any ghosts to be found, it might just be mine," shook Mildred.

"What on earth do you mean, Mildred?"

"I just had a visitor at my home. He used to be the butler for the rich family that ran the mill back in Wisconsin. He told me that my son is still alive!"

"Well, that's wonderful! So why are you acting so scared? Shouldn't you be happy your son's alive?" questioned the Marshal.

"He also told me that the daughter of the man he used to work for is here in town and intends to have my son killed. She's just waiting here for him to arrive off the trail."

"Does this have anything to do with what you told me about them trying to steal your land back in Wisconsin?" asked the Marshal.

"I'm afraid so. The butler told me that after my husband was killed, Ray returned to town from the north woods and confronted Mr. Foster, the owner of the mill. Apparently there was gunplay and Mr. Foster was killed. His daughter witnessed the whole thing and according to the butler, she may well have even contributed to the shooting."

"So she's here for revenge, is that it?" asked Larsen.

"Yes William, yes, what can I do? I can't lose my son twice. I just don't know what to do," cried Mildred.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna tell you exactly what you're gonna do. First you're gonna go home and get some rest. Second, you must stay away from this Miss Foster. Let me do my job. I'm pretty good at it, and I'll see if I can't put an end to all of this before anything happens."

"Oh thank you William, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here when I first arrived. With my sister having passed away, leaving me with no place to go, I thought I had no one left and then there you were. And now I find that my son is still alive and on his way here," cried Mildred, a smile forming on her face.

"Yes, yes," said William, who was always very nervous around an emotional woman. "You get goin' now and let me get to work."

"Oh yes William, thank you William. I'll see you later this evening, right?" asked Mildred, as the marshal moved her ever closer to the now open door.

"Don't you worry, I'll see you later on," said the marshal as he closed the door behind Mildred and returned to his desk to think.

### Chapter 32

### Highwaymen

The wagon train crested the ridge. There before them was the San Joaquin Valley, stretching as far as the eye could see. Off in the distance one could just make out the city of Sacramento. For many the view of their future home was more than they could bear. You could hear shouts ringing out up and down the train as each wagon crested the ridge. Many of the women began to cry tears of joy and relief. The journey had been hard and mothers had to remain strong throughout for their children. Now the load was lifting off of their shoulders and they felt free to rejoice. You could hear Florence and Sis begin to holler even before they moved into position to see the valley.

But the journey was still not over, even though they could see the valley from this height they knew it would still take a few more days before they reached the city and Fort Sutter. Ray listened to all the cheering and celebrating while he rode point with John, Larry and Quincy.

"How many will be goin' on with us to Pueblo de Los Angeles?" asked Larry.

"Oh I figure maybe bout' thirty or forty wagons," replied Quincy as he scratched his chin.

"We should be able to make much better time than we have been, don't you think, Quincy?"

"Well, you'd think so. We can't drive those wagons much faster but fewer wagons do mean fewer stops for repairs. You boys need to head on out and make sure our path is clear. I'd hate to have anythin' happen this close to so many people's final destination," said Quincy.

"Consider us gone, Quincy," Ray said as he pushed Horse on down the trail with John and Larry following.

"This sure is some pretty country," smiled Larry.

John pointed out across the land ahead, "And big! Why that valley is flat as a table top and runs as far as the eye can see."

"Well I been noticin' that it's been getting' hotter with every mile we ride down this slope," Ray said as he used his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his hatband.

They rode for several hours until they came upon a good size stream. Dismounting from their horses they leaned down and drank deeply from the cool mountain water that ran down to the valley floor. Walking his horse towards the shade of a huge stretching branch, Larry smiled. "These oaks look mighty invitin' and I'm ready to put away some of those vittles we brought along." He was already starting to pull the jerked beef and biscuits out of his saddlebags.

"Not a bad idea, Larry," said John, also grabbing his food and leading his mount to the shade.

"Well, hell, it looks like I'm out voted so I might as well join ya," Ray said with a smile.

They found comfortable spots under the trees and leaned back against the large trunks. There was no talking while they enjoyed the food prepared for them by the wonderful ladies of the wagon train. With full stomachs, the sound of the cool stream splashing by, the warm air around their bodies, and a cool breeze that touched their faces, they were quite content.

"Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, we need to mount up before the train comes along and finds us all fast asleep," Ray warned as he rose from his spot and dusted off the dirt from his pants.

"I think you're right, Ray," said Larry as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

As Ray moved over to mount up he picked up the faint smell of tobacco smoke. Horse's ears perked up at the same time, but it was too late to react.

"Boys, hold steady on those mounts of yours. We've got you in our sights. Now just reach down and unbuckle those gun belts real slow and easy like. Let them drop to the ground." Ray, Larry and John all quietly obliged. "That's it. Now take those rifles out of the scaffolds and drop them softly on to the ground." They did as they were told; cussing themselves for dropping their guard and acting like damn tinhorns.

"We wouldn't want them to go off accidentally killin' any one, now would we?" came the menacing voice from behind the rocks shaded by the very trees they were lounging under.

"Okay boys, you've been doin' real good so far, don't mess this up by doin' somethin' stupid. Now, each of you just ease down off of those horses and just go back to the pleasant spots you were occupyin' before you got up."

Keeping their hands where they could be seen, Ray, Larry and John dismounted and walked back over to the shade of the oak trees.

"Okay Caleb, you and your brother go down there and fetch back those guns and horses. Do it quick, now!" ordered the voice.

Two tall skinny-framed men in their older teens came running down the slope and grabbed the empty reins of the horses and the guns lying on the ground. Once everything was collected, the wranglers stumbled all the way back to their hidden location, disappearing behind some rocks.

"Boys, I hope there's no bad feelins. Ya see me and my boys been walkin' for days and without a firearm we ain't been eating none too good either. I figure what's fair is fair. It's your turn to walk and our turn to ride," laughed the voice from behind the rocks.

"No guns!" yelled Larry.

"Hold steady young fella'. We didn't have no guns when we jumped ya, but we sure got some now," warned the voice. "Sorry about deceivin' you boys like that. Now you just sit still for a while and don't try and follow. We see ya comin' up our back trail we'll have to send lead your way. Nothin' personal, you understand."

"Oh of course not, nothin' personal," cussed Larry.

At the sound of the horses' hooves running over gravel and rocks the three jumped up.

"Damn it!" cussed John. "Not only did they get the jump on us like we were three tinhorns, but they did it with no guns. Damn it to hell!"

"Okay, okay, first off, let's be forgettin' that part and leave it that they got the jump on us, that's it," Ray instructed.

All agreed that was the best way to handle the situation.

"What do we do now?" asked Larry.

"All we can do for right now is start walkin' back towards the wagons," said Ray.

"Toward the wagons, are you jokin'? We need to get our stuff back before any one finds out how we got taken!"

"I agree. It ain't gonna be pleasant, but it doesn't make much sense trackin' those boys on foot when we're unarmed and they're ridin' our horses," Ray warned.

"Coop is right, Larry. All we'd do is get ourselves shot," agreed John.

"I figure what we'll do is go back to the wagons and get some guns and fresh mounts and pick up their trail. There's a chance they don't know we're with a wagon train. So they may not be travelin' too fast, figurin' we're on foot. We'll get our horses, guns and the rest of our stuff back along with our pride."

With that, Ray turned and headed up the slope to meet the wagons. After a few hours of steady walking, climbing, falling, cussing, and stumbling they met up with the front wagon. The story of them losing all their gear ran faster down the line of wagons than they could walk. People were already laughing as they walked by.

"You boys thought that was bad, here comes Quincy," Ray said as he hailed him over to them.

"What the hell happened to you boys? Everything up ahead is okay, ain't it?" coughed Quincy from the dust he had thrown up from his horses hooves.

"Yeah, it's fine all the way to the next good water," Ray said.

"Well then, where the hell are your mounts? And you know you shouldn't be out there without a firearm?"

"Yeah, Quincy, we know. The thing of it is, some highwaymen just jumped us and took our horses and guns. We need to get geared up so we can track 'em and get our stuff back," said John.

"Well, you know where the horses are and you'll find your pick of guns and rifles in the supply wagon. Are you gonna need any help?" asked Quincy.

"No, No, we can handle it!" Ray said, not wanting a crowd along with them when the thieves started talking about what they had done to them.

"Okay. We'll meet you at the stream tonight. Any trouble just fire off three shots and we'll come a runnin'."

The three of them were armed and back in the saddle in less than a half hour. They didn't want to hear any more jokes at their expense and figured the sooner they were on the thieves' trail the better.

It didn't take long. The thieves were leaving a trail a blind man could follow.

"Just like you said Coop, they must not be expecting us to be following so quickly," said John.

"Let's go cautiously boys. They may be tryin' to set up a trap for us," said Ray.

The three rode slowly between oak trees and an occasional tall pine along the meandering southbound trail. The route made a turn up the slope and narrowed to allow only one horse to pass at a time. Large pines quickly walled in the sides of the trail, their branches reaching out and swatting at their faces.

"If we don't find them soon, we'll lose 'em in the dark," said John.

"I agree, but I think we're close. No talkin'. Be ready to grab your horse's snout if he tries to return another horses sound."

The trail began to widen enough for two horses to ride abreast. As John rode along side Ray, they both smelled the wood smoke. Ray raised his hand, signaling for the other two to dismount. Tying the horses to a branch they drew out their .44's and headed into the trees. The smoke was getting stronger and they now could hear the sound of laughter. Moving in slowly they started to make out the glow of a campfire with several men sitting around it.

"There's those no good thievin' skunks! Let me go in shootin'," begged Larry.

"No, they didn't harm us when they took our gear - I figure we won't harm them getting it back, okay?" asked Ray.

"Sounds okay to me," said John. "What do you have in mind?"

"Simple. We come in from the west, east and north with guns drawn. It'll be up to them if there ends up bein' any shootin'," Ray whispered.

"Let's get our stuff back," said Larry as he moved off to the right with John moving off to the left.

Ray could just make out John and Larry's silhouettes from across the campsite. Figuring there wasn't going to be an invitation, Ray decided to start the dance by stepping out of the brush directly behind one of the men. The men sitting across from him recognized Ray right away.

"Okay boys, we've been doin' some walkin'; now it's your turn again. Hope there ain't no hard feelins'. Don't reach for those guns. There wasn't any bloodshed when you robbed us and we'd like to keep it that way," Ray commanded as he held his .44 steady on his target's midsection. Larry and John walked up behind Caleb and his brother and took back their weapons.

"Well, I guess this makes us even boys," said the voice, "No real harm done. You got your gear back and we just go back to walkin'." The older man pulled his gun from under his shirt. The brothers both yelled for him to stop but it was too late. He was already bringing the gun to bear on John. Ray's .44 bucked in his hand without even a thought. All he knew was that he had to put that stranger down to keep him from putting John down. Ray's target turned and pivoted on his back foot, collapsing next to the fire.

"Pa!" one brother yelled.

"Hold up right there boys," Ray yelled with his .44 still on them. He leaned down to check out their pa. "He'll be okay, but we need to get him to a doctor."

"The nearest doc is down in Sacramento," cried Caleb. He'll bleed to death before we can get him there!"

"No, we don't have to go clear to Sacramento. There's a doctor with our wagon train. We'll have him there in about an hour. Let's get mounted up. John, Larry, why don't you tie these boys hands to their saddle horns so they don't try anything stupid."

With the boys securely tied to their horses, the riders laid their Pa over a saddle and headed back down the trail to meet the wagons.

"If he dies it's on your heads!" cried Caleb.

"If he dies it's his own damn fault for pullin' that piece," replied Larry.

The three redeemed riders rode into the front of the wagon train. Quincy stopped the procession to allow the boys to escort in the family of thieves.

"Quincy, we got 'em!" yelled Larry as he pulled up his horse.

Quincy looked to a couple outriders, "Take them back to the supply wagon and chain them up.

"What about my Pa, this son of a bitch shot him. I think he's dyin'," cried Caleb.

"He's not gonna die, but Quincy, he does need the doc," said Ray.

"Someone go get the doc," called Quincy.

"I'm right here," waved the doc as he rushed to the injured man with a small black medical bag in hand.

Ray helped the doctor getting the man down from the back of the horse to the ground where he could examine him.

"How is he doc?" whispered Ray.

"He'll be alright. It's just a shoulder wound. Looks like the bullet went clean through."

"All right. Couple of you men pick him up and chain him with the others. Doc can patch him up there. I want to get movin'," ordered Quincy.

### Chapter 33

### Rendezvous

Larry, John and Ray walked slowly to the dinner fires and sat down on a fallen tree trunk. After finishing a plate of food that filled their stomachs and a cup of hot coffee that removed the night chill, they headed off for their bedrolls. Ray was exhausted and couldn't help but think about how he was going to really enjoy the feeling of slipping into his blankets tonight. Throwing back the top blanket he found a note resting between the folds. Ray turned it towards the light of the dinner fires so he could to read it.

"Meet me at the large oak tree a hundred paces north of the camp, along the stream at midnight." It was signed, "Morgan".

Ray checked his pocket watch and found he was already late for the rendezvous. Suddenly he no longer felt tired. He threw the blankets back over the ground cover, making them into a large lump so curious eyes would think he was fast asleep in his bedroll. He didn't know what made him think to do this except he wanted to protect Morgan's name if someone was looking for him.

He raced off to the stream and turned north with the light of the full moon making the going much easier. But in his haste he still managed to stub his toe on roots sticking up through the sand along the shore. As he continued on, one of the roots caught his foot, sending him sprawling out onto a small patch of sand. He spit the sand from his mouth with the help of a couple well-chosen profanities, and whisked the sand out of his hair.

Having only gone a few more paces he heard a small voice, "Ray, I'm over here."

He stood frozen with his heart beating so fast he thought it was going to push through his chest. What did she have in mind? Was she planning romance and if so how far would they take it, or how far should he take it? Would she be disappointed in him if he took the high road and called it an early evening, or did she want him to jump on her and tear her clothes from her body? How was he supposed to know, or was this just going to be a "let's talk" kind of thing? Ray was so nervous he could hardly walk.

Stepping from the shoreline, he walked the short distance to where he saw Morgan lying down. He thought, now that's a good sign.

She was up on the bank about three feet above the stream, on a soft bed of grass. She had laid out a blanket for them to keep their clothes clean: or so he thought that was what it was for. At this point he had no idea what he was doing. Ray stumbled up beside her form and stood dumbfounded. She was leaning back onto her left elbow, with her right leg bent upwards at the knee and her left leg extended. She was a vision with the soft light of the moon falling down onto her, wearing a thin white night gown. Ray found himself still staring at her when she finally broke his trance.

"I'm so glad that you got my note, Ray."

"Me.... too," was all he could mutter.

Patting the ground next to her she smiled and said, "Here, Ray, come and sit next to me."

Finally Ray found his self-control again as lust over came fear and he lowered his weight down onto the blanket next to Morgan. He placed his fingertips gently against her cheek and pulled her face toward his. She did not resist his advance and their lips met in a long, passionate kiss.

Morgan pulled back slightly only so she could gaze into his eyes. That was all it took. Ray was completely hog-tied. The hook had been set and she was reeling him in. Staring deep into her eyes he could think of only one thing to say, "Morgan, will you be my wife?"

Three shots rang out from the camp, startling them both. Then two more shots rang out. Standing quickly, Ray reached down, to take Morgan's hand. He helped her to her feet. They both started running in the direction of the gunfire when he remembered Morgan should not be seen running back into the camp from the bushes.

"Morgan, you go to your wagon and stay there. I'll come for you once I'm sure everything is all right."

Ray was running from Morgan when he heard her voice call out from behind him, "Ray, the answer is YES, of course, yes."

The rest of the way to the scene of the shooting he was running on air. When he reached the spot Ray found his bedroll with three smoldering holes in it and a small crowd of people all around. On the ground, not ten feet away lay the form of a lifeless body.

"What happened?" Ray panted, being out of breath from the long run.

"It appears that Morgan's old beau decided he wasn't all too happy with the way things turned out between you two. So he figured three pieces of lead would solve the problem. Your bedroll was all wadded up - he thought you were in it. Actually Larry and I thought you were in it, too," said John, "We were headed for our bedrolls when we saw this here fella taking aim at your back, or what we thought was your back. We called out to him to stop, and when he fired off three quick shots, Larry pulled iron and put two pieces of lead into the back of the shooter's head. He was dead before he hit the ground. Shit Ray, we thought he killed you. Thank the Maker you weren't in your bedroll. By the way, where the hell did you go, I thought you said you were bone tired."

Just then Morgan came running up wearing the same thin white night gown, only now covered with a night jacket. She grabbed Ray's arm and leaned into his side. John and Larry both had an odd look moving across their faces, realizing exactly where Ray had been.

"Morgan, look away," Ray called, "you shouldn't be here. It's Jack Smoot. I'm afraid he was shot when he tried to kill me in my bedroll."

"Is he?" Morgan saw the body and knew the answer. "Thank God you weren't in your bedroll," slipped Morgan.

"How did you know he wasn't there, Morgan?" asked Larry.

"Well if he had been, wouldn't he have been shot?" said Morgan as she turned away from Larry and the form on the ground.

"Come on Morgan, I'll walk you back to your wagon," Ray said, putting his arm around her and guiding her away.

"Poor Jack," sighed Morgan, "I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for what he did."

"You don't need to feel anything in that regard. Jack was a grown man and out here a man has to stand on his own two feet. That's what Zeke taught me and it makes good sense. Jack acted on his own accord and he reaped what he sowed."

Arriving at her wagon he stopped her by holding her arm. "Morgan, tomorrow, I'd like to ask your Pa for your hand. Do you think that would be alright?"

"Well, you can try, but he's a stubborn man, Ray. He had his sights set on Jack because of his money. That's all my Pa thinks I need to be happy."

"Well, as long as it's okay with you for me to approach him, then tomorrow will be the day," Ray smiled.

"When and where do you want to marry me, Ray? You never said," asked Morgan with a shy smile.

"I'd marry you tonight right under that moon, but I think it would be better to make a real party out of it, don't you? It would also be really nice if my Ma could be there," said Ray.

"Well we're all traveling into Pueblo de Los Angeles, why not set a date when we get there. Then both families can come."

"That sounds perfect, Morgan, but can we still meet out by the big oak tree again?" Ray said with a widening grin.

"We'll have to just wait and see, Mr. Cooper."

Morgan freed her arm from Ray's grip and started toward her wagon. Then she stopped and ran back to him, flinging herself into his arms.

Ray didn't know why but he was more nervous about going to ask her Pa for his daughter's hand, then sneaking up on that Indian encampment with Zeke.

Ray didn't get more than a couple hours of sleep that night.

At first light he was up and dressed in his Sunday going to meeting clothes. As Ray stepped straight out in the direction of the Adams wagons he spotted Morgan's face looking back at him from inside her wagon. Ray wished her face had not carried so much dread across it.

Morgan's father was sitting proudly in his camp chair over by the fire, next to his wife who had joined him in breakfast. Mr. Adams glanced in Ray's direction and began to rise from his seat whispering something into his wife's ear made her rise as well. She collected her plate and utensils and walked away towards the wagon.

"Good morning, sir," Ray said, trying to mask his tremors and sound as mature as possible.

"Well, I guess you've come to tell your side of the murder last night," rumbled Mr. Adams.

"Well no sir, I mean, murder? Sir, what murder, I don't understand. I was coming here to ask you..."

"Yes murder!" interrupted Mr. Adams, "That poor Jack Smoot, gunned down by your friend so that you could have a clear path to my daughter. Why Morgan sat up all night in her wagon grieving over Jack. I haven't heard a tear out of her as yet, but I'm sure she still must be in shock and the tears will soon be coming."

"Mr. Adams, respectfully, I believe there has been a very large misunderstanding here. I..."

"Yes, and you made it!" interrupted Mr. Adams again, "Mr. Smoot was a well respected boy from a well established family from Boston. He was going to be able to provide very nicely for my dear Morgan."

"But sir, she didn't love him," Ray blurted out.

"Love? Love! What do you know of love and marriage? Before a marriage can even be considered, the groom must first be evaluated for his place in society, breeding, and the financial strength of their family. Love will come along later."

Ray didn't know where to go from here in the conversation. He felt like he had lost before he ever got started. Then he felt his temper starting to rise. He was fighting mad for the woman he loved. Ray was not going to give up on Morgan.

"Listen Mr. Adams, I've stood here and listened to all you had to say about the way things were back in Boston, but this isn't Boston. You're moving your family to California for a new beginning. Not to drag along old ideas that just locked people into corners. As for Jack Smoot, he was nothin' more than a back shooting coward and the worst thing that could have ever happened to your daughter. She must have told you how he abandoned her in the Indian camp to save his own skin. She'd still be there; married to that giant brave if I hadn't been there to fight for her. Furthermore, last night was an attempted murder. Jack Smoot attempted to kill me while I slept in my bedroll. You can ask anyone who was there. Several people saw the whole thing. Smoot snuck up on my bedroll thinking I was still in it. He put three bullets into what would have been my back. Thank God I was with Morgan instead of in that bedroll. My friends saw him shooting and returned fire to try and save me. Jack didn't have the guts to face me man to man, so much for your place in society, breeding, and the financial strength of their family. I guess I would have to say on his behalf that he may have had the financial part, but I can't help but think he would have found a way to screw that up too..." Ray only stopped talking because he needed to catch his breath.

Mr. Adams stood erect and with clinched fists he glared into Ray's face. "Boy...I can't remember the last time anyone spoke to me with such disrespect. Most men want something from me because I'm rich. So they tend to yes me up one side and down the other. I'm not used to being called on any of my beliefs. I guess I just got to a point, since no one ever questioned me until today, that all my ideas were solid." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I find your insolence curiously refreshing. I believe I'm going to enjoy living in California very much if this is the way a Western man acts. However, one point I do want to clear up. You said you were with my daughter when this incident occurred last night. Please explain yourself," finished Mr. Adams with a stern scowl.

"Sir, I will not lie to you... I met Morgan next to the river last night. I also will not lie to you... when I tell you that I only kissed her once. I will also not lie to you... when I say that I am in love with your daughter. I came here this morning to ask you for your daughter's hand. I would like to marry her as soon as we arrive in Pueblo de Los Angeles."

Once again, Mr. Adams fell silent, just staring at Ray, sizing him up. Ray hoped he might be trying to think how Ray would look standing in one of their family portraits.

"This morning I have been enlightened in more ways than I care to mention. I would say that perhaps I do need to review my thinking when it comes to place and breeding in society. But I still stand fast on a man being financially sound. My daughter is accustomed to a certain standard of living. I just do not see how a cowboy would be able to meet her needs."

"Hold on there Adams," interrupted Quincy, coming out of nowhere, "I want to show you something."

Reaching into his breast pocket Quincy pulled out a piece of paper handing it to Mr. Adams. While Mr. Adams began to read the document, Quincy explained. "Sorry, but I happened to have overheard your conversation. Oh hell everyone on this end of the train has been listening. I just want you to know that your daughter couldn't do any better than this young man right here."

"Thank you, Quincy, but I'm trying to..."Ray began apologetically.

"Hush up boy, I got a piece to speak and I'm gonna do it," interrupted Quincy, again.

"I understand your respect for this young man, Train Master. I agree Mr. Cooper has proven himself a man on this trip. But it does not change the fact that when the journey is over, he will still be an out of work cowboy. No offense meant, Ray."

"That's okay, I understand your concern," Ray started, but was quickly cut off by Quincy.

"Now hush again, Ray, let me get this out. Adams the document you hold in your hand is a deed to one of the largest ranches in the Pueblo de Los Angeles area. That ranch has four good size homes as well as several out buildings. Not to mention several hundred head of cattle grazin' on that fine land. The property runs from the valley all the way to the coast. A better piece of property, I beg to say, don't exist."

"Well this is all well and good, but why are you telling me this?" asked Mr. Adams. "You're not asking for my daughter's hand, are you?"

"No sir, I'm too old and too ugly. Hell man, it's all there in black and white. That there is the deed to that property and it's been officially transferred over to Ray Cooper. He owns her lock, stock and barrel."

"Quincy, I thought you weren't gonna sign it over to me until we reached Pueblo de Los Angeles?" asked Ray.

"Oh hell, boy, I may not make it that far. You earned it and it's yours," smiled Quincy.

"But Quincy, I don't know that I can accept all this..."

"Boy, you don't get it yet do you? That ranch needs you and the boys more than you need it. I picked you to keep my dream alive. There'll be times when you thank me, like now, and probably more times when you'll curse me for stickin' you with all the headaches."

Turning back to Mr. Adams, Quincy asked, "Well now, what do have to say about this boy's request?"

"Yes father, what do you have to say?" threatened Morgan's voice from behind her father.

Ray turned and there stood Morgan with a look of determination on her face. Her mother was leaning against her with her arms wrapped around her.

Mr. Adams looked long and hard at his daughter, then to his wife, then down at the deed in his hand and then back to Ray.

"Ray, do not ever hurt my Morgan or treat her less than she is accustomed to or you will surely answer to me. That's my precious little girl and I love her more than life itself."

"Oh Pa," called Morgan as she broke from her mother's arms and hugged her Pa's neck.

From under Morgan's tight grip, Mr. Adams extended his hand in Ray's direction, "Welcome to the family, son."

### Chapter 34

### Marshal William Larsen

Marshal William Larsen walked with a tall shadow in the western town of Pueblo de Los Angeles. He had started his young life on the trail after joining a small gang when his wild spirit was not yet tempered by maturity. They had started out by robbing travelers along the trail, stealing cattle and finding just about any other kind of trouble they could get their hands on. They were opportunists by nature and carried with them the thoughts of one day being as well known as Jesse James, the Dalton gang, or Billy the Kid. There were just five boys in the group, all friends from their youth, growing up together in a small town in Kentucky. All they wanted was a little freedom and a chance to escape their parents' way of life. Going west was to them the very answer to all their dreams. They wanted to be their own men. Larsen was the least enthusiastic of the five to become an outlaw. He knew though that leaving home with his friends was the only way he could ever free himself from the life his parents had planned for him on the farm. The boys had heard that the West was where a man could stand on his own and no one could tell him what to do or try and stop him. They made their way half way across the country when they fell upon what looked like a golden opportunity. That's where they made the mistake of their lives.

It was a hot September afternoon when they spotted a freight wagon being pulled along the trail by a team of four mules. The driver had a guard seated next to him on the front of the wagon with two outriders on each side. All but the driver had Winchesters out of their scabbard with the butt resting on their calves.

"This looks like what we've been waiting for!" smiled the lead boy.

"With two outriders and a guard that wagon must be hauling something awful damn valuable," giggled the smallest and youngest of the gang.

"I say we ride down there guns a blazin and take that wagon away from those men. With the money we'd get from that load, we'd be able to live like kings!" pumped the lead boy again.

"Are you out of your mind? I know you saw the guard and outriders. They're carryin' Winchesters and they don't get hired to do a job like that unless they know how to use 'em," argued Larsen.

"Larsen, if you don't want to go along with us you don't haveta'. But we'll all know you're yella!" threatened the lead boy.

Larsen hated being called yellow; it was the worst thing he could be called. The thing of it was his troop also knew he hated it and it was the easiest way to get him to do what they wanted him to do. Larsen rode over to face the lead boy, "don't you ever call me yella' again. You know I hate that, now let's ride!"

Larsen and the other boys headed down the slope toward the wagon.

Without a plan or idea the five rode straight for the prize.

All five could feel the rush of excitement as they rode, the hooves kicking up little puffs of dust with each step, the weight of the six-guns on their hips. Now was their chance to finally use their guns for what they were made for. The guard and outriders all took a bead on the boys with their rifles. The sound of each chambering in a load should have sent the boys running. But they stood fast on their course. The threat even seemed to increase their purpose. As they rode on, one of the outriders called to the boys to stop, a warning that their lives would be in peril if they rode any closer. When they felt they had covered enough ground and their ability to control their emotions had waned, the lead boy looked over at his friends for the last time, "Let's go in shootin' boys!" he yelled.

Larsen tried to stop his friends by calling out. But even his horse was caught up in the rush of the charge, the gunfire, so Larsen drew his gun, as did the others. The attack was over before they covered another twenty feet.

When Larsen opened his eyes he was looking up at a star filled sky. He rolled over onto his side and then to his stomach. His head was pounding like a cast iron skillet had struck it. Willing his arms and legs to pull in under him he pushes himself up slowly to his feet. Staggering next to the trail by the light of the partial moon, he looked down at the lifeless bodies of his young friends. He stumbled to each motionless form hoping for life, but found none. In a matter of just a few seconds he had lost all his youth. Standing among the dead he made the decision that he would never ride the outlaw trails again.

For the last twenty years Marshal Larsen had done a good job. He had kept his town clean and safe without building himself a reputation. He decided to pay a special visit to their town's new arrivals. Larsen walked into the Bella Union and stood in the doorway. The Bella Union was the finest hotel on the west coast, with the exception of a couple hotels in San Francisco. It was two stories high and had twelve rooms. The lobby was large and plush with red upholstered furniture and red velvet wallpaper with a fancy saloon attached. Downstairs was a café. The smell of burning cigars filled the air along with the sound of men discussing politics and ranching. No one really noticed him enter or cross the room and that's the way he liked it. He strolled up to the desk and struck the small bell to alert the clerk that he needed help. Through a curtain on the right side of the desk stepped a tall, thin, frail man, with greased down hair parted in the middle and spectacles hanging on the end of his nose.

"Yes, Marshal, how can I be of service?" asked the thin man, who made it obvious he had more important things to do than stand at the desk talking to the marshal.

"I understand you had a young woman and older man check into the hotel a few days ago?" questioned Larsen.

"That's correct Marshal," answered the thin man who went about his business straightening the desk papers.

"Wally! Pay attention. Have you seen them this morning?" sounded the marshal, now becoming a little irritated.

"Yes Marshal, I have," Wally stubbornly answered.

"Damn it Wally, you can be a real pain in my ass sometimes."

"I surely do not know what you mean, Marshal?"

"Where did you see them? And where are they now?" demanded Larsen.

"Why didn't you ask that in the first place and save both of us a lot of time, I believe she is in the café havin' breakfast."

"Wally...God..." the marshal did not finish his statement. He knew it would be a waste of time. As he walked away, Wally just retreated back through the curtain with the morning mail in his hand, thinking about his next task.

Larsen walked across the lobby and stepped into the café. It was a large room with several tables and chairs spread throughout. They were all set with plates and utensils on a white tablecloth. As soon as he looked over the room, his concern about being able to pick her out of the crowd was disposed of. Sitting dead center was a very attractive young woman who carried a great deal of self-confidence. With her at the table sat two of the town's low life. The marshal recognized them both as the vermin he arrested on more than one occasion for a plethora of violations.

As he closed in on the breakfast table, each man rose from their seats.

"Miss Foster? I hope I'm not intrudin'," said the marshal as he removed his hat.

"Not at all Marshal. These gentlemen were just leaving," said Miss Foster with a nod to each of them. The two men walked away, but looked back giving a sneer to the marshal's back.

"Poor men were looking for a hand out; I was able to spare a few loose coins for them," lied Miss Foster.

"I'm sure you are most generous, Miss Foster. I've heard that you're from Wisconsin. Things out here I believe are quite different. You will want to avoid men like those who you gave money too."

"Why, thank you Marshal for the warning. I will just have to be more careful in the future. Now, what can I do for you? I'm sure you are a very busy man."

"Yes, well, most of the time. But I do enjoy welcoming nice people, like yourself, to our fair city," smiled the marshal.

"Why thank you, Marshal, I didn't know there was this much gallantry out here in the West," purred Samantha.

"Well, I'll agree it does come in short supply. But generally speaking men of the West wouldn't stand for another man bein' disrespectful to a woman, you can count on that," spoke the marshal as he began to realize just how attractive Miss Foster was.

Samantha did not miss the look on his face either. She learned at a very young age how to spot that look and turn it to her advantage, "Marshal, if I'm not imposing too much, would you be willing to escort me around? I'm sure you know every inch of this town and would be most informative as my escort." smiled Samantha with a little girl pout.

"Well, I don't see no harm in it, I guess," blushed the marshal. "When would you like to go?"

"Well Marshal, I'm done eating, how about right now?" said Samantha, rising from her chair not waiting for an answer.

"Well, yes, sure, nothing like the present I always say, miss, that's what I always say..." said the marshal, trying to figure where Mildred would be just about this time of the day.

Samantha walked around the table and took Larsen's arm over hers and marched towards the door. Larsen was elated at the fact he was going to be seen walking a beautiful woman down the boardwalk. At the same time however he couldn't help feeling like a heel knowing the disaster that could be in the making.

As they walked, the marshal thought he would at least try to find out if what the older man had told Mildred was true.

"So, Miss Foster, what part of Wisconsin are ya from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind, Marshal, I have nothing to hide. Please don't arrest me," laughed Samantha, which caused the marshal to laugh back. "My family ran a small milling town in southern Wisconsin," answered Samantha.

"Wisconsin, that's a piece away, what would bring you all the way out here?"

"Opportunity, Marshal. California is going places. I think it will be the next great empire, and I want to be a part of it."

"But there just aren't that many trees out here for you to timber. At least not in this part of California," questioned Larsen.

"Well then maybe I came to the wrong place," laughed Samantha.

"Oh, you're just havin' fun with me," sighed Larsen.

"You know Marshal, I really am," smiled Samantha as she looked up into his eyes to set the hook.

That evening Larsen arrived to a cool reception at Mildred's house.

"Mildred, I don't understand why you're so mad at me. You asked me to try and find out what Samantha, I mean, Miss Foster is up to. The only way I know how to do that is to be nice to her, get her to lower her guard. She's new in town, no one knows her, and so she's the only one that can tell us what she's up to."

"What about talking to the man that came here the other night? You know, the one that gave me the warning," asked Mildred with her arms crossed in front of her and her toe tapping on the floor.

"Hell, Mildred, I've looked all over town for that fella'. He ain't no where's to be found," explained Larsen.

"Well then why don't you arrest that girl? The man warned me she was dangerous, I'll bet you a few days in jail and that Miss Foster, or Samantha, as you called her, would start feeling everything," spoke Mildred firmly.

"Well, now, I can't be goin' around arrestin' people just because someone said somethin' ugly about 'em," said Larsen with his hands held up in a helpless expression.

"Something ugly, something ugly, now you listen to me Marshal William Larsen, I think that girl has already got you hoodwinked and cow-eyed for her. If you don't wake up and snap out of it you just might feel a fry pan up against the side of your head," threatened Mildred, "Now please get out of my house!"

Larsen knew when he was licked and headed straight for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow Mildred, when you've had a chance to calm down a little," misspoke Larsen as he moved toward the porch. Mildred picked up one of her vases, launching it with furious precision and making contact with the back of Larsen's head.

Now he would have to stop off at Dr. Griffin's office before going to the jail, as the cut on the back of his head was going to require a few stitches.

### Chapter 35

### Fort Sutter

It was sure good to see Richard up and around again. The stab wound he had suffered in Ray's defense became infected and he was very sick for several days. They weren't sure if he was going to make it. But, being as strong as a bull moose, he pulled through. In fact, Ray thought Moose would make a fitting nickname for him as long as he was able to put back on some of the weight he'd lost while recovering. Even though his belt was pulled up several obvious notches now to keep his pants up, he was still was the biggest man in camp. Each time Ray had visited him at Laurie's wagon he had tried to thank him for saving his life. But Richard would have none of it. "Ray," he would say, "ain't we like brothers by now? And don't brothers look out for one another? And wouldn't you have done the same thing for me? How can I take thanks for something I would expect you to do for me if I was in the same pinch?" Ray laughed every time he told him that. Richard truly believed it. Even when Ray explained that the odds of that ever happening again were too great to count, he would still stick to his story. Richard was, if anything, stubborn as a mule and a great friend to have.

Richard, John, Larry and Ray proudly rode through the gates of Sutter Fort in Sacramento. The wagons were expected to arrive later in the day.

The boys were thirsty enough to drink down a keg of beer each, but first they had to find a good spot for all the wagons. They hitched their horses to the pole outside the Fort Captain's office. Stepping up onto the boardwalk they were greeted by a large man wearing a blue uniform blocking their entry into the Captain's office.

"State your business," commanded the man in blue.

"Well, we just wanted to ask the captain where we could put up a wagon train for a few days," Ray answered with a smile at the formality of this over-weight cavalryman.

"One moment," snapped the soldier as he turned in position and marched into the office, closing the door behind him.

After a few minutes the door opened and out stepped the same hefty trooper, "The Captain instructs that you can bivouac your wagons a half mile west, up the river."

With a snicker Ray found hard to contain, he asked, "what the hell is a bivouac?"

John, Larry and Richard also snickered.

"Bivouac: it means to camp. You can camp your wagons along the river, now move on off the porch. The captain likes it left open for important people."

"Oh yes of course sir, thank you General," laughed Larry.

As they walked away they could hear the soldier from behind them, "I am not a general, gentleman, I am a private," which drew even more laughter from them as they mounted up to secure the campsite, or as the soldier called it, the bivouac.

The area suggested by the captain would serve their needs quite well. Deciding it wasn't going to take all of them to watch the plot, they drew straws and Larry lost. With a wave from their saddles they headed back to the fort.

Sutter Fort wasn't all that big of an area but it did have a nice, high wall around it. It contained stables, with a blacksmith, and a general store. Outside the walls were several Indian huts constructed of either adobe and straw or hides thrown over poles. But this wasn't what they were looking for. They were three boys who had grown on the trail and they had a man-sized thirst. On the opposite side of the fort from where the Indians were encamped, the traders had constructed several large tents. They found a handwritten placard over one of the tents that said simply, "Saloon". The sound of merriment was erupting from within the canvas walls. With a big smile the boys dismounted and headed for that drink. Upon entering the fine establishment they were surprised that it actually looked a hell of a lot better from outside. But they weren't selling beer outside so they figured on coping. The tent was filled beyond capacity with trappers down from the Sierras, soldiers from the fort, a few hard cases that they intended to avoid, and a few saloon working girls to encourage the men to buy more drinks.

"You two go stand over there in that open spot. I'll get us three beers and be right back," Ray said as he pushed on through the crowd.

"Thanks Coop, get a bottle while you're at it. We may never be able to get up to the bar again," smiled John, as he slapped Ray on the back in dismissal.

After much effort Ray reached the oasis and leaned up against the wood planks that acted as the bar top. Now all he needed to do was get the bartender's attention. Three men were working behind the bar and he managed to catch a glance from the bartender closest to him. He ordered three beers and a bottle of Red Eye.

"That's two bits for each beer and the bottle'll cost you a dollar," yelled the barkeep over the roar of the saloon noise.

Throwing two-dollar pieces onto the planks he told him to keep the change. The barkeep picked it up, waved it at Ray in thanks and went back about serving the other customers. It was no small effort getting those three beers and bottle back through that crowd, but he finally broke free into the light. Across the tent sat John and Richard at a table they had secured from some patrons who had ran out of drinking money. With a wave from Richard to get his attention, Ray headed in their direction. Well the place sure as hell was nothin' to write home about, but that beer went down nice. With the three beers guzzled down Richard opened the bottle and filled their beer mugs with the golden liquid. At first they each took a sip to see if they were going to be drinking real whiskey or a blend of corn alcohol, gunpowder, and snakeheads. Fortunately or unfortunately, they couldn't tell; the damn stuff was so strong there was no taste, just burning flesh in their mouths.

Coughing over the rim of his mug, and eyes watering John exclaimed, his voice hoarse, "Man that is some good whiskey." To which they all broke into laughter.

"Here boys, here's some cigars to have with that whiskey. Mind if I join you?"

Ray looked up from his mug into the eyes of a man twice his age wearing a black broadcloth suit with a white shirt and black string tie. The suit fit his body well but not so much his personality. Ray took an immediate disliking to him. Kicking the one lone chair away from under the table Ray nodded for him to sit.

"Much obliged gentlemen," he said as he handed out the cigars to each of them and took a seat.

John and Richard quickly lit their cigars, enjoying the tobacco. Ray left his sitting on the table.

"Well boys, where you from?" asked the stranger.

"A little nosy aren't you friend," Ray said.

Richard and John knew Ray long enough to know the tone of his voice. They both set their mugs down and just held their lit cigars.

"Well I didn't mean to pry. I was just trying to be friendly," spoke the stranger as he looked over to John and Richard. "What's the matter with your friend here? Ain't he very social like?"

They both just looked at the man at first not saying a word. Then John spoke up, "we're from places back east, where you from mister?"

"Well I don't mind tellin ya. I'm from the great state of Texas," he bragged. "In Texas they walk tall and ain't afraid of nothin'. I saw you boys come in and figured you must be the front riders for that wagon train coming in soon. Am I right?"

Still no answer was forth coming. "Listen Mister," Ray broke the silence, "why don't you just tell us what you're selling and then move on."

"You sure have a mouth on you boy," said the man. You could tell he was getting mad, but thinking better of it.

"Look, I'm not here to cause you no problems. What I do have is a proposition for the folks on your train. Many of them will no longer need some of their oxen or mules, if they decide to take up roots here. I'm just making the offer, I'm willing to buy some of their livestock, that's it, boys. All I ask is that you pass that along to your train master and them with too many animals. Just tell them they can find me in here. Names Earl Schmitt."

"Okay, you've said your piece. We'll pass it along. Now if you'd excuse us we're having a private party here," Ray said with a cold stare.

"Suit yourself mister. But a piece of advice, you better lose that chip before someone shoots it off you," finished the man as he rose and walked from the table.

After a few moments, John said quietly, "what the hell was that all about, Coop? I've never seen you like that before. That man is just trying to make a living."

"Boys, if that man is just out to make an honest living, then I'm becomin' a preacher in the mornin'."

"So, you don't trust him?" asked Richard peering up from his beer mug.

"Not any further than I could throw him. Come on, let's get out of here," Ray said as he rose from the table, picking up his drink and draining the mug.

The three of them rode back out to where they had left Larry. He was lying on his back in the grass next to the river with a long piece of weed stuck in his mouth.

Seeing them approaching, Larry rose to his feet and walked toward them, "Well it's about time you three got back, damn it, I was about to die of boredom."

"Quiet down," Ray said, "Or we won't give you what we brought from town."

"What is it? I don't see any señorita sitting behind you so it better be a drink."

"Better than a drink Larry, it's half a bottle," laughed John, tossing the bottle to Larry.

Quincy joined them by the river as the air began to fill with the dust of several wagons filing into their predetermined spots. "I don't suppose you have another bottle to go with that empty one over there?" asked Quincy.

"Sorry, Quincy, we got it for you. It just took you too long to get here," laughed John.

"I'll bet," sneered Quincy.

"Don't worry, Quincy. I'll buy you a drink once we get all these folks settled in. By the way, do you know a man by the name of Earl Schmitt?"

"That sidewinder's still around here?" said Quincy, "I would of thought someone would have either shot him or hung him by now."

"Who is he Quincy?" inquired John.

"He's a damn thief, is what he is. He'd steal the teeth right out of his own mother's mouth. Comes out to each incoming train off the trail and if he can't buy stock from the folks, he'll wait until they're out on the trail alone headin' for their new homes, and steal whatever he can take."

"How do you know that, Quincy?" Ray asked.

"I guess I shouldn't be sayin' it as I can't prove it. But he ain't never worked a day in his life. Yet he always has money to spend. Folks here say they've found some poor souls laying dead out by their stripped wagons, folks that wouldn't have any part of selling to him here in Sacramento. I suggest you spread the word to the rest of the train to stay away from him. He's plum loco and so are the boys that ride with him."

"How many are there?" asked Ray.

"There's Earl and last I knew he rode with about six other gents and that's old information. I haven't been back here in a year. Just watch your backs boys. Now let's get these wagons anchored and go have that drink."

"Sounds good to us, Quincy," said Larry as he headed into the dust.

### Chapter 36

### Schmitt

"Miss Foster, we just can't thank you enough for your contribution to the women's league. We've never had a contribution of this size before. You're most generous," announced the Chairwoman of the society. "Let us all rise and greet our newest board member with a proper welcome."

"Ladies, I cannot give enough of myself in the quest to clean up the sins of man. Why, I know I'm new in your beautiful town. From what I can see you all have been doing such a splendid job pushing out as much riffraff as you can. I do believe with my backing we can clean every inch of this town within a very short time!" promised Samantha as she stood at the head of the table next to the chairwoman.

"Madam Chairwoman, may I have the floor?" asked one of the members at the right side of the table.

"Why, yes of course, I recognize Phyllis Snyder, Phyllis you have the floor. Now quiet down ladies, Phyllis is going to say something."

"I am only going to say what I think all of us have been thinking. Let's elect Miss Samantha Foster to be the chairman of the committee!" announced Phyllis to a hearty chanted affirmative.

The chairwoman was a little taken back by her quick dismissal. She had only been the chairwoman for a month, but had enjoyed the attention. Samantha moved in front of the chairwoman. Pushing her back from the table, Samantha quickly accepted the nomination, "Thank you so much for your vote of confidence, Ladies! I will do all I can to fulfill my promises. Now if you will excuse me I have some pressing business to attend to. Remember, we don't want any sin in our city. If you see or hear of anyone living in sin, or contributing to such, they should be listed here at this committee to be dealt with." And with that Samantha turned from the table and marched out the door to a steady applause, except from one.

Samantha walked out the front of the Bella Union where the meeting was being held and walked across the plaza to a building on the other side. Climbing a set of stairs she entered a side door to an office. On the placket hanging over the door was written, "James E. Usher, Esq., Attorney at Law."

"Miss Foster, so glad you were able to free up some time to sign these papers. Once signed you'll be a very big landowner in this town," announced Usher.

"Yes, Yes, Yes, where are the papers?" waved Samantha.

Usher laid out the different forms and showed her where to sign. As she signed she once again warned Usher, "You do remember our agreement that no one, but no one, is to know that I am the owner of these properties? That is the only stipulation I made in this purchase. I'm paying top dollar for your anonymity. If this transaction gets out the deal is off and a lot of people stand to lose a great deal of money. Including yourself, Mr. Usher. Do I make myself clear?" finished Samantha looking up from the papers long enough to glare into the attorney's eyes.

Usher suddenly wished he hadn't gotten involved with this woman but the money was just too good to pass up, "Oh, yes of course, Miss Foster. This office never releases personal information about any of our clients."

"Well, let's both hope that doesn't change for your sake. There, I've finished signing. You know what to do next?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I have contacted the firm in San Francisco as you requested and hired the two gentlemen. They should be here sometime tomorrow to take over your saloon and the other properties."

"You mean the whore house?" spoke Samantha bluntly.

"Yes Ma'am, the... House," stuttered the attorney.

"Very good, I don't want the business to miss a beat and draw attention to the fact they are under new management. Nobody gets fired, yet. Nothing changes, understand?"

"Yes, Miss Foster, as you say," bowed Attorney Usher.

As Samantha turned for the door Usher rose and ran around his desk to open the door for her, "Good day, Miss Foster."

"Good day Mr. Usher, and please do not bow to me again."

"No Ma'am, I mean yes Ma'am," said the attorney as he closed the door behind her. Quickly he went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a much needed drink.

-CKS-

At sunrise, John and Larry went down to the river to take a bath. Ray soon joined them and the water felt great. Wanting to be a little more careful than John and Larry had been Ray asked one of the men from their train to stand guard. The last thing he wanted was to have some females come stumbling upon them stark naked in the water. Actually, he wouldn't have minded that, but he knew the ladies of the train would.

"Ray!" called Quincy from the shoreline, "did you see that no account bastard around my train yet, tryin' to buy livestock?"

"No I haven't," Ray called back as he took a face full of water from Larry.

"You know, now that you mention it Quincy, I did see him yesterday talking to a couple families, I'm pretty sure they sent him away empty handed," hollered John.

"Shit, I knew it. What families was he talkin' to?" asked Quincy.

"Well, I guess the Millers, Johnsons, and I think the Potts," answered John. "Why is somethin' wrong?"

"I don't know for sure but you boys better get dressed and saddled. We might have some trouble on our hands, hurry up now!" ordered Quincy as he turned and headed for his mount.

"Well boys, I guess the funs over for now," said Larry as he marched out of the water.

After a short time the three of them rode up to Quincy's wagon where he sat in his saddle waiting for them.

"Okay, Quincy, we're here, what's goin' on?" asked John.

"Hopefully nothin', but John, you said that Schmitt was talking to three wagons and one of them was the Potts?"

"That's right," nodded John.

"The Potts broke camp this mornin' to travel onto Oregon. I fear maybe Schmitt found that out and will be tryin' one of his old tricks. If he can't buy their livestock in camp, then he'll try to steal 'em out on the trail. Boys I think we need to take a little ride."

"Potts you don't mean Ida's parents, do you?" Ray asked

"I'm afraid I do," said Quincy with a distressed look on his face.

"Damn it! How long ago did they pull out, Quincy?"

"Ray, they left about three hours ago," answered Quincy.

"Then they couldn't of gotten too far. Come on we can still cut this off before it happens!" Ray yelled as he turned his mount towards the trail to Oregon and took off in a full gallop with John, Larry, and Quincy right behind him.

As the dust of their departure began to settle, Richard and Laurie trotted up on horseback, "Hey, anyone know why they're headin' off in such a hurry?" asked Richard to a group of people standing around a fire.

"Yeah I do," said one of the many preachers heading West to save the lost. "They said the Potts family might be in danger of being attacked by road agents, I think."

"Laurie, you stay here, I'm goin' to catch up with the boys and see if I can help."

"There's no damn way I'm staying behind. There's a woman out there that might need another woman if something awful should happen!" yelled Laurie as she kicked her horse into a full gallop.

"Hold up there, wagon!" came a call from five riders approaching the rear of the Potts wagon.

"Who is it Pa?" asked Mrs. Potts from the back of the wagon where she was securing some of the load that had fallen over.

"I think it's that fellow who wanted to buy our stock back in Sacramento," answered Mr. Potts.

"You ain't gonna stop out here for them are you?"

"Can't do much more than that Mother, we can't out run 'em. I'll see what they want. HOOOO, horses," called Mr. Potts as he pulled back on the reins and set the brake.

The five riders came around to the front side of the wagon.

"What can I do for ya fellas?" asked Mr. Potts.

"Well, I'm still interested in your livestock Potts. And I was wondering if you'd changed your mind?" smiled Schmitt.

"Look here, fella, I told you yesterday that we need our livestock to start our farm up in Oregon. Now why would we sell what we're needin' so badly?" said Potts as he shook his head.

"Well, I thought I'd give you a chance to change your mind, to be reasonable like," spoke Schmitt with a tone of larceny in his voice.

"Now you look here. You'll not scare us out of our livestock. You might as well just be ridin' on sir," ordered Mr. Potts.

"Well how do you like that, boys?" asked Schmitt of the scum that rode with him.

"Boss, I think this here Easterner needs some learnin'," said the tall toothless man on the opposite side of the wagon as he pulled his rifle from its scabbard, striking Mr. Potts in the side of his head. Mr. Potts slumped over and fell from the wagon box down onto the ground.

"Pa!" cried Mrs. Potts from inside the wagon.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head over him, he'll be just fine. Now what do you say we have a little party back there?" said the toothless man as he climbed from his horse into the wagon. Mrs. Potts struck him several times in the face but he was too strong for her. Another man joined in, grabbing her dress and trying to tear it.

Outside the wagon Mr. Potts was slowly rising to his feet as the other three dismounted and walked around him. Mr. Potts pulled his revolver. Schmitt kicked it from his hand, causing a round to fire off into the air.

"Why are you doin' this? We didn't do you any harm," questioned Mr. Potts as he was kicked in the chest by one of the men.

Mr. Potts fell over onto his side in pain when a barrage of boot kicks plowed into his ribs and midsection, but he still tried to rise. A boot heel made contact with his head. The impact dazed him and dropped him to the ground where the men began to kick him to death. Mr. Potts could hear Schmitt shouting something about "next time you'll sell when I make an offer."

After an hour of hard riding Richard and Laurie joined the boys.

"Glad we were able to catch up with you. I figured you could use all the help..." Richard was interrupted by the sound of gunfire.

"Oh no, the Potts: they're in trouble. Ride hard, please ride hard!" cried Laurie. On a dead run they flew over the top of a small rise directly into the attack. Ray spotted Mrs. Potts trying to fight off two men in the back of her wagon. Mr. Potts was on the ground with Schmitt and two other pieces of scum trying to kick him to death and laughing in the process.

As Ray rode hard onto the scene he could hear Schmitt yelling at Mr. Potts "Next time you'll sell when I make an offer."

Ray rode Horse right up the back of the scum to the left of Mr. Potts. Both men were launched into the air and fell hard to the ground. As he turned for a second run he spotted Richard, John, and Larry, throwing the other two men out from the back of the wagon. Laurie was climbing up into the wagon to comfort Mrs. Potts. Schmitt had taken off running toward his tied mount on the side of the wagon. Quincy rode in front of him and cut him off. Schmitt turned like a cornered rat and ran back to the center of the camp. "It ain't no good you tryin' to run away, you piece of crap," called Quincy.

Schmitt knew there would be a noose waiting for him back in Sacramento if he was captured. He figured that was not the way he wanted to go out. If he was going to die he was going to take as many with him as he could. Schmitt smiled as he pulled iron and brought his gun to bear on his closest target, Quincy. A sudden roar of gunfire filled the air. As one, they all pulled their .44's from their holsters to save Quincy's life. The rounds hit Schmitt hard in the midsection, tearing off large chunks of flesh from his body. Being hit from five different directions, Schmitt wasn't knocked down but actually held erect; finally collapsing into a pool of his own blood. Seeing the carnage, the rest of his gang quickly threw up their hands, with no more fight left in them.

Other than the horrible scare, the Potts were not severely harmed. With help Mr. Potts drew himself up into the wagon box. He released the brake and was ready to continue on to Oregon.

"Mr. Potts, I know you're wantin' to be on your way to Oregon, but there are several other wagons headin' north that could really use your help," suggested Ray.

"Well I don't know," started Mr. Potts.

"Maybe we should consider taking Ray's advice," asked Mrs. Potts.

"Well, for you dear, let's rejoin the train," smiled Mr. Potts.

Mister and Misses Potts both looked at each other as he turned the wagon around. They smiled at each other, relieved that they found a way to save face and have others with them on the trail for safety.

Schmitt's gang returned to Sacramento but didn't last the week before they were stretching a rope. Justice in the West was quick and final.

### Chapter 37

### The Search

"Jake!" called the marshal who was sitting behind his desk. "Come in here a minute Deputy, I got something for you."

"What's up Marshal?" asked Jake as he walked over to the potbelly stove and filled himself a cup of coffee.

"You seen that new girl, Samantha Foster? She came into town about two weeks ago?" asked the marshal.

"Seen her, who the hell hasn't Marshal? She's one fine lady," smiled Jake.

"Yeah, well, I guess you're right about that. Okay, when she came to town there was an older man with her, a very prim and proper kind of fella. We need to find him and find him quick," ordered the marshal. "I want you to start searchin' around town. Places where a man would be able to hideout for two weeks with no one seein' him. Got it?" said the marshal as he walked around the desk, taking the cup of coffee out of the Deputy's hand. "Jake, find him, NOW!"

"Yes sir, I'm on it Marshal," answered Jake as he hustled out the open door of the jail.

"Jake!" called the marshal after him. "Search quietly, and watch your back. I have a feelin' there'll be others lookin' for him and they won't want him around to talk. Okay, get started," warned the marshal as he returned to his office.

-CKS-

"I hired you two idiots to find one old man, and all you've done so far is take my money and hang out in the saloons," yelled Samantha Foster.

"Listen, lady, we been hangin' out in those saloons cause' that's the best place to get information. We've been watchin' the stage and the livery. Ain't nobody left this town that we don't know about. We believe we're getting' close," lied the spokesman.

"You're a damn liar and if you don't bring me that old man within the next two days you may just join him on my list," threatened Samantha.

The two men rose quickly to confront the threat, but sat back down when they saw the look on her face. Her eyes told what was in her heart. These men would swear they were looking death right in the face. Samantha Foster had a way of quickly transforming from a very attractive, irresistible woman, to a venomous snake with a vicious bite.

"Ma'am, I mean Miss Foster, we'll find your man and have him here within a couple days," promised the spokesman.

"Don't bother bringing him to me. Just make sure he doesn't ever talk to anyone again," commanded Samantha, who gave no more emotion ordering the death of a man that helped raise her than ordering a dinner steak.

As the two men walked from the closing door of Samantha's hotel room, the spokesman again clarified their position. "We need to find that fella, and find him fast. I do not want to end up on that woman's list, whatever that is."

-CKS-

From horseback, Quincy addressed the families from the train. He had them all gather in open space at the front of the wagon train. "Well folks, I sure hate to be splitting up the train like this. Those of you going onto Oregon are in good hands. Johnny Scott is a good man. He knows the route better than most and with that red hair you'll be able to follow his lead even in the dead of night. I've never traveled with a better group of people and I will be missin' each and every one of you. Good luck to you and yours and God willin' we'll all meet again. Now, what do you say we all finally head home?" called Quincy. His heartfelt speech was followed by, "three cheers for Quincy." Families hugged other families as they walked back to their wagons.

The train pulled slowly out in single file toward the cut off points, with most heading north. Ray's group of twenty-five wagons and the horse remuda were headed south.

-CKS-

"Miss Foster, I really don't think Mrs. Cooper, is that kind of woman. Why, I've known her since she arrived here in Pueblo de Los Angeles and she has always carried herself with dignity and grace," defended Sara Miller during the next women's group meeting.

"Mrs. Miller, have you not said yourself that you've seen the marshal enter Mrs. Cooper's home after dark?" questioned Samantha.

"Well yes, but they are only having dinner together. I'm sure he leaves directly after the meal is finished," pleaded Mrs. Miller.

"Have you seen them eating? Have you seen him leave directly after dinner?" questioned Samantha.

"Well no, but I just know Mildred and..."

"Thank you, Mrs. Miller for your opinion. I believe this group must move on what we know, not what we hope is happening. We have young children in this town that will see the marshal go in there but they don't see him coming out. This is not the type of activity I want to support. This kind of behavior needs to be dealt with severely!" said Samantha, as she looked each woman in the eyes.

"What do you intend for us to do, Miss Foster?" asked the group in full support of their wealthy leader.

"Isn't it obvious ladies? She must be taught that this type of behavior is not permissible. Further, the sin she is involved in must stop this very minute. The house she is living in belongs to the very man she is in sin with. Therefore, she must leave that home before the sun sets. Then she needs to be placed in the arms of good counsel. We must suspend the rest of our meeting and go to Mrs. Cooper's aid, give her the help she so desperately needs before her soul burns in hell."

The group rose in one accord, filled with self-piety as they marched out the front door of the Bella Union and headed down Main Street towards Mildred's home. Several of the women began to sing "Bringing in the sheaths, bringing in the sheaths, we shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaths..."

Mildred was alone in her home washing dishes and straightening up the living room when she heard the singing voices continuing to rise in volume. She opened her front door and stepped out to see what was occurring. Approaching her home were several women who she recognized as friends from her church. They marched toward her home and turned into the front gate. Mildred thought to herself that maybe they had come to enlist her in some new venture. That misunderstanding was quickly cleared up when Samantha Foster stepped forward from the group, taking the lead. "Mrs. Cooper, I am Miss Foster..."

"I know who you are and I know what you are," snapped Mildred.

"Please Mrs. Cooper; there is no need to be insulting. We are here as your friends and out of concern for the city," informed Samantha.

"You, Miss Foster, are no friend of mine and never will be. Now get off of my property!" demanded Mildred. Seeing the faces of those she thought had been her friends, she began to cry.

Pushing through the group, Mrs. Miller ran to Mildred and put her arm around her shoulders, "I'm so sorry for all this, Mildred. I told them you were a good person, but they don't like the marshal being here after dark."

"That's what this is all about. The marshal and I are good friends and nothing has happened behind that door that was improper. Besides, it's none of your business!" announced Mildred.

"Well, that is where you are wrong, Mrs. Cooper, the city has given us the authority to deal with immoral behavior as we see fit," informed Samantha.

"What are you talking about? There is no authority like that in this town!" questioned Mildred.

"I'm afraid that is where you are wrong again, Mrs. Cooper. The Mayor of the city has given me authority as I see fit. You madam are indecent and need to be dealt with," accused Samantha. "Enough of this, ladies; please escort Mrs. Cooper to Reverend Smith's home where she can receive the good counsel she so obviously needs."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," defied Mildred.

"You will either walk with us as a lady or you will be arrested and marched down the main street like a common criminal. Which will it be?" demanded Samantha.

Looking around and seeing no help, Mildred decided it would be better to go along for now. With her head held high she announced, "All right, Miss Foster, lead on."

At the front gate of Reverend Smith's home, Samantha stopped the procession, "We do not all need to go in, I will take Mrs. Cooper in, I'm sure she will not make a fuss. After all, she knows this is for her own good, right Mrs. Cooper?" smiled Samantha. "You ladies have done a very good thing here today. Now go on home and I will report to you the outcome of the counseling at our next gathering."

"Just lead on Miss Foster and let's get this over with. I have dinner to prepare," said Mildred.

Samantha and Mildred walked silently to the front door of the house. Without knocking, Samantha turned the knob and they entered. Mildred stood in the dark entryway while Samantha pulled the door shut behind them.

"Okay, you got me here, now what's your game you little snake in the grass," snapped Mildred.

"I guess it won't hurt to tell you now. Gentlemen please secure her," ordered Samantha to the scum appearing from around the corner. "Now there is no need to struggle, as no one will be coming to assist you. The good reverend has gone to visit a poor lady who lost her husband. It's a sad tragedy that had to happen because I needed a quiet place to secure you."

"You mean you had a man killed just so you could have this house to yourself? Are you insane? Why would you go to such lengths to hold me? What did I ever do to you?" demanded Mildred.

"You did nothing, but your son murdered my father. You are merely leverage for when your son arrives in town. I want him to hurt as much as I did."

"I don't believe a sick person like you could ever feel hurt," struck Mildred.

Samantha stepped forward and slapped Mildred across the face. "Now, take her to the wagon out back, and make sure no one sees you. Get her to the cabin and keep her there. Have you found Phillip yet?"

"No ma'am but we're close," answered the spokesman.

"Yes, I heard you the first time you said that. Well get a couple of your friends to keep an eye on her and you idiots find that old man. Now move!" said Samantha as she turned on her heels and walked out the front door.

With that done, she walked down the street, across the plaza and up the stairs to her attorney's office. When she entered, Attorney Usher felt the room grow cold.

"Ah, Miss Foster, how nice to see you again, please make yourself comfortable. May I offer you some coffee while we talk?" said Usher as he rose to greet her.

"That will not be necessary, Mr. Usher. I will not be staying long. Have you the papers ready for my signature?"

"Why yes of course, Miss Foster. They are right here on my desk. I was just going over them again to confirm that they were all in order. I believe you will be quite happy out on the Satinga ranch. It has good water, grass, and the buildings are all but brand new, as for the house..."

"You do not have to sell me on the ranch Mr. Usher; I've already agreed to purchase it. I believe the house will be most comfortable."

"I should say so. Two stories, six bedrooms upstairs, ranch size kitchen, large dining room, a splendid living room..."

"You forgot the library in your inventory, Mr. Usher," sighed Miss Foster, recognizing that all Mr. Usher cared about was keeping her as a client for the commission he was going to be making on the sale of the house.

"Do you plan to run horses and cattle on the property? There's enough land and grass there to run as many head as you like."

"I will let you know when I decide if it's any of your business, Mr. Usher. Now where are the papers?"

"Oh, yes of course. Just sign where I've made a mark and the Satinga Ranch is yours."

"The Foster Ranch, Mr. Usher."

"Oh, but of course, Miss Foster," said Usher watching with anticipation as a signature was placed on each page. "Excellent, Miss Foster, I will get these papers over to the Land Office and get them recorded. You'll be able to move in tomorrow."

Without uttering a word Samantha rose from the desk. Placing her gloves back on her hands, she picked up her purse and headed for the door. Attorney Usher let out a gasp of pain, when he struck the edge of his desk with his knee, trying to beat her to the door to hold it open for her. She just shook her head, allowed him to open the door and walked out onto the balcony.

"Thank you, Miss Foster, always a pleasure to see you," said Usher lying through gritting pain.

"Yes, I'm sure you're thrilled every time you see me coming up these steps. Good day Mr. Usher."

"Good Day, Miss Foster."

Samantha walked from the attorney's office to the livery barn on the far side of town. Entering through the side door she walked carefully to avoid any dung that the liveryman missed in his daily cleaning. She entered a small room at the far side of the barn, with the words, "Tack Room" carved over the door. Inside, sitting around on hay bales and resting saddles were the two scums she had in her employ. Three other men accompanied the scum to assist in Miss Foster's next adventure.

"Well, Miss Foster, nice to see ya again," said the spokesman.

"Shut up and listen," scolded Miss Foster, "I want every bit of live stock on the Wood's Ranch moved into that hidden canyon you've been telling me about. Keep them there until you find a buyer. I do not want anyone to see you with those animals. If they do, you better ride and ride hard from here. If anyone ever linked any of you to me, you will die, understand?"

"Yes Ma'am, no problem. The herds are out in the hills right now so it shouldn't be hard to round them up, unseen. Is it okay if we have to shoot someone to get it done?" asked the spokesman.

"What the hell do you think? Like I said, get it done any way you have to, just get it done!"

"Yes, Ma'am. When do you want it done?"

"Tonight!" finished Samantha as she turned and walked out the door of the tack room.

"Son of a bitch, that woman scares the hell out of me," said one of the henchmen.

"Let's do this right boys. Get our money, and then get the hell gone from here," seconded one of the other men.

In full agreement, they grabbed their saddles and gear and began carrying it out to their horses in the stables.

### Chapter 38

### Phillip

"Señor Phillip, I have some food for you. You eat and then you need to leave town as fast as you can. There are bad men looking for you," cried the small Mexican girl who had been watching out for the gringo. After trying to escape on the stage after leaving Mrs. Cooper's house, Phillip had seen two lynch men just outside the Overland office and didn't dare take a chance that they weren't there for him. He decided his best chance was to hide for a few days until Miss. Foster believed he had gotten away. Unfortunately, Samantha did not give up easily and a few days turned into a couple of weeks. Phillip had been hiding inside Rose's house for over two weeks now. Fortunately he had stumbled into Rose in a small cantina on the south end of town. They sat talking over a meal of tortillas and beans and soon became fast friends. After telling Rose all about his dilemma, she promised to hide him at her small adobe home on the outskirts of town near the open fields.

"Rose, I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me. If you had not taken me in I fear by now I would surely be dead."

"Do not fear, Señor Phillip, I will not let harm come to you," promised Rose.

"Rose, I will miss you very much when I have to leave. I will never forget you and what you have done for me. I hate to ask for anything more but I don't have any choice; I need you to do something for me. It could be dangerous, so you must be careful."

"Anything, Señor, you have but to ask," smiled Rose.

"I would do it myself if I could but if they see me; I'd be as good as dead."

"What is it Señor Phillip?"

"I'm going to give you some money and I need you to go to the Overland Office and buy me a ticket to San Francisco."

"But Señor, they watch the stage office?" questioned Rose with her big brown eyes.

"I know. My plan is to meet the stage out on the road heading north. With my ticket they'll let me on board," explained Phillip as he took a large bite of a flour tortilla filled with goat meat.

"I will try, my friend."

"Good, now here is what should be enough for the ticket. Do not tell them it is for me. Say... you're buying it for a woman who gave you money, say nothing more. Do you understand?"

"Si' Señor. I understand. I will go now and come right back with your ticket," said Rose as she poured more tequila into the small glass in front of Phillip.

"Thank you, Rose. If I stayed any longer, I could get used to eating your tortillas and drinking tequila," smiled Phillip.

Rose placed the bills into the single pocket sewn into the front of her apron. She'd learned to fend for herself, due to a hard life and the loss of her parents. She had done quite well. She was a survivor with great plans for her life that extended far from the small adobe home she lived in now. Rose did not expect Phillip or anyone else to just give her anything. She knew she would only succeed through hard work and blessing others with her kindness. Straightening her apron around her small dress, she ran a brush quickly through her long black hair and then cleaned her face in the basin of water just outside her front door. Looking a little more presentable, she sang a song she remembered from church last Sunday. Upon entering the Plaza Rose turned right towards the Bella Union where the Overland Office was housed. It was a warm day but she liked it hot. The sun felt good on her face as she stepped from the street onto the boardwalk. Rose walked into the Overland Stage Company and had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust from the bright sun light. She recognized a man that she had seen glaring at her many times as she walked down the street. She did not like this man and felt that he was very dangerous. As she tried to ignore him, she walked up to the counter and faced the older clerk standing behind the counter.

"Okay, Mex, I ain't got all day, what do you want in here?" said the clerk in an annoyed voice.

"I need to purchase a ticket to San Francisco, please," asked Rose in her sweet soft voice.

"Well that's different," said the clerk. "Is it for you?"

"No sir, I'm buying it for someone else," answered Rose.

The man standing near the counter perked up, paying more attention to what the girl was saying rather than just the shape of her shirt.

"Okay, do you have the money?" asked the clerk.

"Oh si' Señor, here is the money," said Rose as she placed the roll of bills onto the counter.

The clerk went through the roll and took what he needed, returning the rest to Rose along with a ticket.

"Now tell your friend that the stage leaves right out front here at 2:00, understand?" directed the clerk.

"Oh, si Señor, but my friend told me that he, I mean she, was going to be catching the stage out on the road to the north. Is that okay?" asked Rose, innocently.

"Well, I'm sure the coach will stop for a lady out there; but there really ain't nothin' out there. Why would your friend be out there? Why not catch the coach right here?" asked the clerk.

"I have to go now. Thank you Señor," said Rose panicking a little at the questions. She picked up the money along with the ticket and stuffed them into the same front pocket as before. She ran out of the office and straight across the plaza heading south. Behind her followed the man who had been loitering in the coach office. Rose ran with glee at the feel of the ticket in her pocket, thinking how pleased Phillip would be at how well she had done. Reaching home, she darted into the house and straight up to Phillip.

"See Señor Phillip, I told you I could do this thing for you. Here is your ticket to San Francisco," smiled Rose.

"Thank you Rose. I never doubted you. Did you have any trouble?" asked Phillip.

"None Señor, the stage man told me that the stage left from out front of the office at 2:00, but that it would be okay for you to meet it on the north road. He said they stop for you," smiled Rose, thinking that she was helping solve Phillips problems.

"What? You asked him if it was okay to catch the stage north of town?" asked Phillip in a panicked voice.

"Well yes. But I told him what you told me to say, that you were a woman, he will never think you're a man, Señor Phillip. Did I do okay, Señor?"

Thinking hard about what her words might mean to his escape plans he answered, "Of course, Rose, you did very well. Thank you," lied Phillip.

"Yes, Rose, you did very well, thank you," laughed the man filling the doorway with a gun in his hand. "What do you say we all get a little more acquainted?"

"No, you must not be here, do not hurt my friend!" screamed Rose has she ran at the man to push him out of the small adobe.

The man swung the back of his hand across her face, knocking her to the ground. Phillip jumped to his feet in her defense, only to stop when he heard the hammer of the .44 click back.

"Now sit down on that chair over there against the wall, mister. Señorita, take that rope over there by the firewood, tie his hands to the chair. Tie them tight. I'll be checkin' them and if they're not tight I'll cut ya," threatened the man.

Carrying the rope over to where Phillip sat Rose began to cry. "I am so sorry, Señor Phillip, I have brought this upon you."

"No Rose, it is I that am sorry. You have been very good to me and now you are in danger, I am so sorry," said Phillip as he shook his head in despair.

"Okay, Señorita, that looks good, he's good an tight. Now put that rag around his mouth, I don't want to hear a word come out of him."

"Rose, if you get a chance, run and don't look back, do you understand," whispered Phillip.

"Shut up over there and get that gag on him!" order the man.

Satisfied that Phillip was bound and gagged securely, the man holstered his gun. Turning to face Rose he smiled. "Now, what do ya say to a little fun before I take care of this fella?" The man laughed as he unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the floor.

Rose tried to dart for the door but was cut off by the man; he smelled of month old sweat.

"No, no, take your hands off me, Señor Phillip, help me!" cried Rose, as the man picked her up, carried her across the room and threw her down onto the bed. She was helpless against the strength of the attacker. As he looked away Phillip's eyes filled with tears, knowing he could do nothing to help his friend.

Raising from the bed the man re-buckled his pants and wrapped his gun back around his waist. "That was right fine, little girl. Too bad I won't be able to spend more time with ya, but this little get together has got to come to a close," laughed the attacker.

Taking the large knife from the side of his belt he swiped once across Rose's exposed throat, leaving her to choke in her own blood. Phillip cursed through his gag to no avail. The man calmly replaced his knife in its sheath, turned in Phillip's direction and pulled the .44 from its holster placing a slug directly into Phillip's chest. Phillip's broken heart stopped pumping and he went limp against his bonds.

The man walked back to where Rose lay and placed his gun in her hand. Returning to Phillip he cut the bond holding him in the chair and removed the gag. Phillip rolled out of the chair onto the floor. The man then placed the bloody knife into Phillip's hand. Standing back for a moment and surveying his gruesome work, he smiled and walked out into the sunlight.

-CKS-

"Marshal!" called Jake from outside the office. "Come quick, we got some trouble down in Mexico town."

"Damn it, I was just getting' ready to go for dinner," sighed the marshal as he rose, placing his hat on his head and walking out to join Jake.

"What's all the damn excitement deputy?" asked the marshal as they walked.

"Not sure, Marshal. One of those crazy Mexicans came runnin' up to me blabbin' some of those Mexican words I don't know a lick of and grabbed my arm. So I figured I'd better follow him."

"Yeah, well what did you find?" asked the marshal, getting a little impatient.

"Well the Mex took me to a small adobe down near the fields and you won't believe what I saw inside Marshal," spoke Jake in a flurry of excitement.

"Well I ain't going to be able to tell if I believe ya or not until ya finally tell me what the hell happened, damn it!"

"Okay, okay, Marshal. Well there they were, you know that little Mexican girl, and I think her name was Rose. Well it looks like an old white fella' dun raped her, and then cut her throat either before or after she shot him in the chest. There's a lot a blood Marshal and it stinks in there."

"Okay, Jake, okay, let's get over there and see what we can see," said the marshal.

"Marshal, if you don't mind can I watch the door from outside so no one can get in there while you're checking it out, okay Marshal?"

Noticing for the first time that Jake looked a little pale, "okay deputy, you watch the door, and I'll check it out," said the marshal.

He walked up to the small adobe finding a little boy sitting on the stoop. "Oh Marshal, I told Pedro you'd give him a nickel if he'd keep people out of there," said Jake.

"Okay, Pedro, here's your nickel, now go on home. Jake, did you touch anything in there?" asked the marshal.

"Are you loco, Marshal? I walked in and turned right around and walked out," said Jake as he held back from throwing up.

"Okay, well let's get this over with," said the marshal as he stepped into the room.

The scene remained the same as when the attacker had left. Phillip lay on the floor with a bullet hole in his chest and Rose lay with her dress pulled up to her waist with her throat cut. The marshal walked over to where Rose lay, and pulled her dress down to cover her legs.

Poor girl, he thought as he noticed the slight bulge in the front pocket of her apron. "What do we have here?" he muttered.

He reached into the pocket and pulled out the rolled up bills. Freeing them from the pocket, a ticket fell from the wad. The marshal picked up the piece of paper and recognized it as an Overland ticket to San Francisco. Then it all began to hit him; he knew when he walked in the scene didn't look right. The man on the floor didn't look like a rapist and by the way he was dressed he appeared to belong on the other side of town. He had some sauce stain on the front of his shirt. Looking around the room the marshal found the finished plate of tortillas.

"Jake!" called the marshal.

Sticking his face into the room with his eyes closed Jake answered. "Yes Marshal, what is it?"

"Go get Mrs. Cooper and bring her down here right now!" ordered the marshal.

"Yes sir," called Jake, never more relieved to get away from some place as he was now.

After a couple hours, Jake came walking back to the adobe to find the marshal standing out front.

"Well, where is she deputy?" called the marshal.

"I don't know Marshal. I've looked all over town, even talked to a couple of the ladies. They say she was at the preacher's house. But when I went over there, it looked like no one had been there for a couple days," answered Jake.

"Damn it, if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself," cussed the marshal, walking towards town. "Jake, get the undertaker and tell him to keep these two above ground 'til I tell him different, got it?"

"Yes Marshal, I'll tell him."

The marshal started his search at Mildred's house, where he found his dinner burning on the stove. That wasn't like Mildred at all. His concern began to grow. Next stop was at Mildred's best friend's home.

"Marshal, all I can tell you is the same thing I told Jake. The women's club escorted Mildred over to talk to the Preacher. Miss Foster took her inside alone while the rest of us went home. That's the last time I saw her. She has to be at the Preacher's house!" said her friend.

The marshal walked up to the front of the preacher's house and knocked at the front door. There was no answer.

"Preacher! Are you home Preacher?" Waiting for a response that didn't come, he forced the front door open a small crack, "Preacher! Are you here? It's the Marshal."

Now frustrated, the marshal pushed the door open wide and stepped in. Calling out several more times with no response, he walked from room to room. Figuring no one was home he walked back to the front room. He had no idea where to look next for Mildred. Perhaps Miss Foster might be able to shed some light on where Mildred was. Then it hit him...the smell of tobacco smoke. It was too strong to have come from a passerby. Someone had smoked in the house. As long as he had known the preacher, he knew that he would never allow that. The marshal searched the floor. It didn't take long before he found the smudged out tobacco near the front door.

Hearing the sound of a carriage pulling alongside the house, he looked out the side window and saw the preacher. The marshal headed outside to get to the bottom of where Mildred could be.

"Preacher, can I have a word with you?" asked the marshal as he walked around the corner of the house.

"Why, hello, William, how are you my boy?" asked the preacher.

"I'm just fine," answered the marshal hating the way the preacher drew out his name William and always calling him, "my boy." "I was wondering where Mildred was?"

"Well I assure you I do not know. I would assume right about now she would be at dinner," answered the preacher as he began to un-harness his team.

"Well I was told that the women's group brought her over to see you earlier today. Are you saying you haven't seen her?" questioned the marshal.

"Why, yes William, I have not seen her but if the women's group brought her over then perhaps she is inside waiting for me?" figured the preacher.

"No, I've already checked. She's not in there, and I also found a burned smoke crushed out on your floor."

"What? Why I do not allow smoking in my home. Whose tobacco is it?" demanded the preacher.

"Take it easy. I'm more concerned about Mildred than smoke being in your house. So you haven't seen her today?"

"No Marshal, I have been gone since yesterday. That poor Mr. Daniels was shot and killed yesterday so I have been out there at their place comforting the widow."

"Is Sheriff Moore out there?" questioned the marshal.

"Yes. He was out there when I was. He says it sure looked like murder to him. Mr. Daniels was shot in the back."

"All right, I'll talk to him when he comes back into town," said the marshal as he pushed his hat back off his forehead, "Now I wonder why someone would murder Daniels. Was anything taken?"

"Not that they could tell. Mrs. Daniels says her husband was in the barn when she heard a shot. She found him laying face down in one of the stables."

"I wonder if what happened out there has anything to do with all that's going on here in town?"

"What do you mean Marshal?" asked the Preacher.

"That little Mexican girl named Rose was murdered," said the marshal, intentionally leaving out the part about the older white man.

"That's terrible. Rose was such a sweetheart. Where is she? I must go pray over her," said the Preacher as he grabbed his bible from inside the carriage.

"Well I guess it can't hurt. But remember this is a murder I'm studying, and I don't want you talkin' to anyone about what you see in there," pointed the marshal.

"Oh, William, my boy, you are being so dramatic," said the preacher as he started past the marshal.

Riled by being called "William" and "my boy" again along with having his demands ignored caused him to grab the preacher's arm tightly and turn him around quickly, "Look, you don't get in there unless you agree to my rules, got it?"

"Mercy sakes, of course Marshal, whatever you say," spoke the preacher in shock.

"Good. Go find my deputy and he can take you to the body."

"Thank you, William my boy. I do apologize if I seemed to dismiss you. I assure you I have nothing but the highest respect for you," said the preacher as he turned and headed down the street.

### Chapter 39

### Two from San Francisco

Larsen stepped out onto the street and looked down toward the Bella Queen. Miss Foster, thought the marshal. Everything that's been happenin' seems to point directly into your direction. I wonder why that is? I think it's time we had a little talk.

Larsen walked down the hall of the Bella Queen that led to Samantha's suite. A couple knocks on the door drew a response from inside. "Who is it? What do you want?"

"It's the Marshal, Miss Foster. I'd like to have a few words with you," he answered through the door.

"Just one moment William, I'm not decent," called Samantha from inside the room.

"Not a truer word has ever been spoken," whispered the marshal.

The door finally swung open to reveal Samantha in an evening robe and a broad smile across her face. "Like what you see, William?"

"Miss Foster, I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I have a murder on my hands and I need to get it cleared up."

"Oh my God, how terrible for you William, please come in, come in, you poor dear. Here sit over here on this chair next to my dressing table. Now what's this all about and how can I help you?"

"First off I have some bad news for you so you might want to sit down," said Larsen.

"Well if you think I should William," responded Samantha as she pulled another chair directly up in front of Larsen's chair. "What is this bad news?"

"Well, I haven't had a positive identification yet of the body. But I think the man you came to town with was killed," said the marshal, watching her reaction closely.

"Oh my God, not Phillip, not my Phillip, but how?" cried Samantha.

The marshal had to admit she was either a great actress or really was sad that Phillip was dead. He still leaned toward the first part. "So you were close?" asked Larsen.

"Close? He was our butler and pretty much raised me from a little girl. He was like a Pa to me. Oh my God. Who could have done something like this?" implored Samantha.

"Well that's what I aim to find out, Samantha. Once you're up to it, I'd appreciate you coming down to the office. I'll need you to identify the body."

"Of course, William, whatever you say. Can it be tomorrow? I'm just so upset right now, I may faint straight away," exaggerated Samantha.

"Yes, of course, tomorrow. Early please, we need to get the body into the ground pretty soon," explained the marshal.

The marshal rose from his seat and walked over to the door, leaving Samantha sitting in her chair crying. Turning he asked, "Miss Foster, I understand that you were the last person to see Mrs. Cooper this morning. Is that correct?"

Through her tears she looked over at the marshal, "Yes, William. Why, has something happened to her, too?"

"Well, I hope not. What happened when you last saw her?" asked the marshal holding his hat in front of him.

"Well there isn't much to tell. We took her over to the preacher's house and I left her there."

"Was the preacher there when you left her?"

"Well, no, but I expected him back at any time. The other ladies told me before that the only time he's not home is when he's in church or at a dinner with one of the parishioners."

"Well, if you see or hear of where she is, let me know, all right?" asked the marshal as he turned the knob on the door, opened it and stepped into the hall.

"Of course, William, as soon as I hear anything," said Samantha with that little girl pout that Larsen figured was supposed to keep him in her corral.

Walking down the fancy hallway to the top of the staircase, he stopped to think for a moment. The only other lead he could think of would be those two scums who were with Samantha the other day. Larsen wondered if they had anything to do with all this.

As he walked down the final flight of stairs the marshal looked out the large plate glass windows and saw that the Overland had come in. Something interesting caught his eye; two well-dressed gentlemen had stepped down from the coach and were walking onto the boardwalk. Larsen could over-hear them direct the driver to bring their bags into the hotel. The marshal moved off to one side of the room, just to see what was what before he introduced himself.

Each man walked tall into the lobby, looked around briefly and headed straight for the desk. They both wore black suits, which would have been covered with trail dust if it hadn't been for the dusters they took off. Each was at least six feet tall; one had long blonde flowing hair that reached from under his hat to his shoulders. He appeared to be quite strong, not what you would expect of a businessman. Larsen's attention did not miss the tied down .44 on the man's hip. The handle looked well worn, so he was no tinhorn. Larsen had to admit to himself that this was a very good-looking man, with a very charming smile.

As for the other man: he wore a Derby hat, which the marshal could not stand. Under the hat was a head of very black hair smeared with enough grease to lubricate an entire wagon train. This man also walked like someone who could take care of himself. He too wore a .44 but his holster was not tied down. The marshal noted a small bulge in his vest and figured the man probably was carrying a pocket pistol as well. A fancy boy was what came to mind when the marshal put together what he had seen. These two looked like they might have gone to the same university but that was the end of the similarities.

The marshal moved easily toward the desk as the desk clerk asked for their names.

"My name is Arlen Bowl from San Francisco and this is an associate of mine, Edward Cole," said the man with the slick black hair.

"Will you be stayin' long with us, sirs?" asked the clerk as he busied himself pulling down keys to the best rooms on the second floor.

"Maybe just one night, I'm not sure yet. We're lookin' for a Miss Samantha Foster. She is supposed to be staying in this hotel and asked us to meet her here."

"Well, we're not allowed to give out the other guest's room numbers. I guess if you want to see her, your best bet would be to arrive in the dining hall around 7:00 o'clock. That's when she usually makes her appearance," smiled the clerk as he handed the men their keys. He then looked over at a bellhop and gave instructions to take up their bags.

"Well, that may not work for us. You see, Miss Foster is expecting us. Would a twenty dollar gold piece persuade you to send someone up to her room and give her a message that we've arrived?"

"Certainly sir, the staff of the Bella Queen is here to serve you," said the clerk as he pocketed the gold piece and called to his assistant to watch the desk.

"Now, if you gentlemen will wait here in the lobby, I will take your message to Miss Foster."

"Yeah, well, you see, where we come from we learned it was difficult to trust strangers. So I believe we'll just come along with you to Miss Foster's room. If she doesn't want to see us, we'll turn around and return to the lobby with you," said the blonde haired man with a smile.

The clerk stuttered for a second, not knowing how he was going to stop them from following. He really wanted to keep the gold piece. "Well I guess there's no harm in that," said the clerk as he headed up the stairs.

The two men went right up behind the clerk with the bellhop in tow. The marshal followed a few steps behind the bellhop.

The clerk tapped several times on Samantha's door before it opened about a foot with her standing in the gap.

"Yes, what do you want?" snapped Samantha.

"I am so sorry to bother you Miss Foster. These two gentlemen asked me to deliver them to you. They assured me that you were expectin' them and that there would be no trouble."

Samantha stuck her head out the door enough to see the two well dressed men waiting with hats in hand.

"Bowl and Cole?" asked Samantha.

"Yes, Ma'am, we came as soon as the company got your wire," said Bowl as he pushed past the clerk and walked through the widening gap in the door.

"Well, by all means do come in gentlemen. Don't wait to be invited," said Samantha, a bit miffed that they had not waited for the formality of her offer.

Closing the door behind the two men, Samantha turned to face them.

"Look Miss Foster, we're not here to play patty cakes. We're here to do a job for you and we are damn good at it. So, let's cut straight to it. Edward here is a graduate like myself from the University of Business. He was raised on a ranch and knows the ins and outs of every aspect of ranchin'. I on the other hand wouldn't know the front end from the back end of a steer. I am your new saloon and house manager. You're already familiar with the company in San Francisco that hires us out. Apparently your Pa has used the company's services many times in the past."

"Yes, yes, this is all a waste of time. I wouldn't have even allowed you to enter a stage headed this way if I'd not already checked both of you out and accepted your contracts. Now, let's get down to business," said Samantha as she poured herself a Scotch, pointing to the bottle for the men to help themselves.

Sitting around the table, she laid out her plans.

"I intend on having one of the largest ranches in California. I expect the profits from the saloon and whorehouse to help me reach that goal. Tomorrow I'll be taking possession of the Foster Ranch and Edward you will accompany me. As for you Arlen, we are to be silent business associates. I want it kept quiet that I own the saloon and brothel until I'm ready to let the information out myself. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Miss Foster, we are only interested in making you money and following your directives," said Edward with a smile that once again caught Samantha a bit off guard.

"Good. You both were selected because you can work for the brand and keep your mouths shut. That's important whenever you try to start a new business like ranching. People get nervous and start putting up wire fences and can get very unnieghborly. There'll be times when the law is stretched and maybe broken in order to reach our goals; let me know right now if that's a problem and I will let you walk out that door and ride back to San Francisco."

"Ma'am, like you said, we can ride for the brand," said Edward.

"Good. Okay then this is how it's laid out. The other big ranch in this area is called the Wood Ranch. A trail boss named Quincy Woods owns it. By chance, I was in the land office reviewing ranches for sale when a telegram came in changing the ownership of the entire ranch along with all the assets to a Ray Cooper. He is the very reason why I came here in the first place. Originally I wanted to destroy the only other family member he has and then kill him. But I decided that California suits me better than Wisconsin. So I had to change my plans. Oh, I still plan to destroy Mr. Cooper's family and put a bullet in his head, but it needs to be done discreetly because I plan to make this my home."

"I see. Well I need to make it understood that I am not a hired gun, Miss Foster. So I hope you have someone else planned to do that type of work for you?" asked Edward. Arlen just smiled.

"Of course. You will be operating strictly as my foreman. You'll be too busy working that Ranch to be asked to do anything else. The same goes for you Mr. Bowl."

"Well, Miss Foster, I too would like to say that my gun is not for hire. But I also understand that you know that everyone has a price."

"Good to know, Mr. Bowl," said Samantha. "But just keep your mind on the saloon and brothel. They both should produce quite a nice sum. Okay. Starting tomorrow, Mr. Bowl, you take over the town operations. Mr. Cole and I will start the ranch moving. Understood? Any questions?" asked Samantha looking them both in the eyes.

The men smiled and nodded their heads yes. "Sounds like a sweet deal, I believe we can make you a very wealthy woman," bragged Bowl.

"I am already a very wealthy woman; I want to be the wealthiest."

"Yes Ma'am," said Edward.

"I will see you tomorrow out front of the Bella, 6:00 am sharp, ready to ride out to the ranch. There are already hands out there, but I will leave it up to you to dismiss and hire anyone you see fit in order to get the job done. As for you Mr. Bowl, I will send you messages regarding a conference, at a location of my choice, whenever we need to speak. If you do your job as well as you say you can, and then we shouldn't have to have very many conferences," warned Samantha. "Good day gentlemen. You know where the door is, you can show yourselves out."

"Thank you Miss Foster," said Bowl as he opened to door and exited.

"Yes, thank you Miss Foster, I will see you in the morning," smiled Edward as he too left the room.

Marshal Larsen waited for the meeting to end and the guests to leave before he exited the empty room next to Samantha's. Through the thin walls of the apartment, he'd heard enough to know what was ahead, but nothing that could help him with the whereabouts of Mildred or how Rose and Phillip were murdered.

### Chapter 40

### Kingston

Once they were upon flat, hard, sun baked ground, the wagons finally moved at a much easier pace. In the evenings they circled the wagons in and around groves of tall standing oak trees along the banks of small rivers and streams. They had beaten the coming of winter in the Sierras and entered the hot pre-fall weather of the San Joaquin Valley. It seemed winter and summer had joined in a battle over fall, and neither was willing to relinquish its hold. They knew the hot weather wouldn't last and it wouldn't be long before winter brought the rain and thick fog the Indians had told them about: fog so thick you could get lost standing in the middle of your camp. They also worried about the Mountain Pass to their south. Generally it was passable year around, but it was known to get treacherous in poor weather. They pushed on each day, trying to eat up as many miles of the flat San Joaquin Valley as they could. Finally they reached a small hamlet resting quietly along the Kings River, just about in the middle of the valley.

Kingston was established mostly to support and be supported by a ferry that transported wagons and horses across the river.

They made camp on the south side of the Kings River. There was low brush with an occasional large oak for shade. But for the most part they stood directly under the hot California sun. The river, though warm, was still refreshing compared to the hot air. At first several on their train thought they'd found gold flowing along the waterway. Some even found small specks of gold stuck to their clothes and skin after being in the water. Their excitement soon waned when the locals explained it was just Pyrite, more commonly called "Fools Gold." It didn't stop some of the children however from trying to collect the fragments and acting out what they thought it would feel like to be rich.

Morgan and Ray spent most of their free time sitting on the shore splashing their feet in the cool water talking about their future together.

One evening found Quincy, John, Larry, Richard and Ray all sitting next to a small fire taking in all the stars that seemed to fill every inch of the sky. Quincy took a sip of coffee, rolled some tobacco into a piece of paper, and lit up the one smoke he saved for himself each evening. Drawing in the refreshing taste of tobacco into his lungs, he was rewarded by the deep cough that he had felt before. But this cough was followed by another deeper cough from within his lungs, which seemed to grab a hold of the strings to his breath. Suddenly he began to cough uncontrollably, deep, harsh, raspy, coughs that echoed the very ripping of his insides. With a sudden look of desperation across his face Quincy looked at each one of them and gasped for air. They dove to his aid, trying to determine if leaning him forward, laying him down or standing him up would alleviate the attack. The convulsion lasted a few more minutes before Quincy settled. He looked up at each of them with a smile of farewell to his new close friends, and collapsed in Ray's arms. His face fell to the side as Ray held him, like he had held his Pa. Ray's eyes filled with tears, as did the eyes of his companions. A man doesn't always cry for a fallen friend. But when one has impacted your life as greatly as Quincy had, there was no stopping the emotion. Quincy had given each of them a life in California and not a one of them would ever forget it.

The next morning they held services under the grandest old oak they could find along the river. Quincy would rest in a quiet spot, hearing the splash of water as it moved down the valley from the high mountains. They knew they would dearly miss that old man as they pulled the wagons in line. And once again, like so many other mornings, they continued their journey home. The home Quincy had provided for them.

The weather seemed to be getting hotter, and the land less and less hospitable as they moved south. Trees could be seen only along the small streams that crisscrossed the valley. Looking to the east, especially in the early morning before the sun had time to escape the grasp of the earth, the Sierras were so crystal clear that one would think they were but a few miles away. You could even make out the dusting of white snow on the higher elevations. To the west a lower range of mountains began to intersect their travel, growing taller as they approached the south end of the San Joaquin Valley. The pass looked quite clear from the valley, but only Quincy had known what lay beyond. So he had been careful to leave Ray with a very clear map complete with stopping points that created a dot-to-dot course to the valleys on the other side. After traveling what seemed straight up a wall they came across Ft. Tejon near the top of the pass. Morgan convinced Ray they should make camp for the day at the fort and rest. The animals were exhausted, as were the folks who had had to walk alongside the wagons in order to lighten the loads. Along with the arduous climb was the constant throat clinging dust and sweltering heat from the hot sun bearing down on their heads. It was still early but the animals and travelers were clearly used up.

The Fort would be able to provide them with enough necessities to complete their journey. The officer in charge cautioned them that there were still a couple large climbs ahead of them, but acknowledged the worst one was behind them, much to everyone's great relief.

The following morning they awoke to a light rain and a cool breeze coming up from the valley below. Since the dry ground was absorbing the water almost as fast as it impacted the surface, they decided to go ahead and begin their journey. Ray figured that as long as the rain didn't increase, the soil should remain solid enough to allow their wheels to pass.

They were making good time when there came a call from within the wagon train to halt the wagons. John and Larry turned their mounts and followed Ray back to where the call came from. They were traveling along a fairly narrow pass with the canyon wall to their right and a stream on their left, leaving only enough room for a wagon and a couple of horses. The fourth wagon back was the source of the call. It stood in an awkward position with several men standing around its left rear. As they drew closer, they observed a large piece of a wagon wheel lying off to one side.

"Damn it, that's all we needed," said Larry as they rode up and dismounted.

"Anyone hurt?" Ray called out.

"No, no one was hurt. But this wagon isn't going' anywhere until we replace that wheel," said one of the men looking at the axle which was now stuck in the dirt.

"Whose wagon is it?" Ray asked, looking over the group.

``"It's our wagon, Mr. Cooper," answered Sis and Florence.

"Well, I'll need some men to assist in gettin' a new wheel on this wagon," Ray called out, "Sis, where is your extra wheel?"

"Why, we don't have one," answered Florence.

When the train split up in Sacramento, people traveling north reclaimed the wagon they had loaned to the two sisters. They were forced to scramble quickly to find another wagon before the trains left in separate directions.

"The good folks who sold us our wagon back in Sacramento, said they didn't have one and told us that the Lord would provide," added Sis.

Just anxious to end the conversation and get moving again, Ray called out "Anyone have a wheel they can use?" asked Ray.

"I have one," said Laurie who by now was standing with most of the others from the train, around the sisters' wagon.

"Okay, a couple of you men go get the wheel while we get a pole to lift the wagon up," instructed Ray.

"John and Larry, follow me. Let's find a good sized piece of wood to use as a pole," Ray said as he headed down by the stream where most of the trees grew.

They quickly found a trunk about six inches in diameter of solid wood and cut it down. With the branches trimmed from the trunk they had a pole that should be strong enough to raise the wagon enough to put on the new wheel.

Morgan organized a group to assist Florence and Sis in getting the wagon unloaded so it would be easier to lift. A few men rolled a large rock just under the edge of the wagon. A pole was pushed under the wagon and supported in the center by the rock. With several men on the high end of the pole pushing down on the pole the axle rose from the ground.

"Okay, we need someone to clean the dirt from the end of the axle and put more grease on the contact," Ray called.

"I can do that part," called Florence as she ran forward through the crowd, wanting so badly to assist the men in fixing her wagon.

"Be careful!" yelled John as he saw Florence's foot catch a root hidden under the soft dirt. Falling forward, she struck the pole with all of her weight. The impact was just enough to twist the pole off the rock and cause the wagon to slam hard back down onto the ground.

Florence had fallen in under the wagon just as the axle collapsed down upon her chest.

All stood silent. It all happened so quickly there was no chance to save her.

"Florence!" screamed Sis as she rushed to her dear sister's side. Sis frantically began to dig around her friend's body in a futile attempt to free her.

"Sis! Get out of there," cried Larry grabbing her around the waist, and pulling her back. "We can use the pole to lift the wagon off her, stay back!"

With Sis out of the way, they re-inserted the pole and applied pressure to the end. The wagon rose off the ground lifting the axle from Florence's chest. Her lungs drew in a large gulp of air making the sound of a strong wind.

"Get her out of there," Ray shouted.

Larry left Sis to assist in the removal of Florence's broken body. The knowledge of what they would find when Florence's body was pulled from under the wagon was no mystery. Only one end could result with the entire wagon's weight centered on the edge of that axle forcing it down onto her chest.

Sis knelt down beside her sister and began hugging and kissing her face. Florence's hand slowly rose from the ground and encircled her friend.

"What is all this attention for? I have done nothing to deserve such affection," said Florence with great effort.

"My God, she's alive?" said John. "But that's impossible. That axle slammed down on her chest. I heard it hit."

"Well, she ain't dead. But if we don't get care to her she soon will be. Someone get the doc," Ray called as he leaned down to hold Sis from climbing all over her friend. "Sis, she may have some broken ribs. You need to stay back a little and don't touch her until the doc checks her out, okay?"

"Oh, yes, thank God!" cried Sis.

Ray rose and stepped to one side, next to John.

"What the hell do you make of that, Ray?" asked John still staring at Florence.

"First, I can say hell had nothing to do with it. I don't know how she wasn't killed. Now, since doc has Florence, let's get back to fixing that wheel."

An hour later the wheel was back on the wagon and ready to roll. The doc had examined Florence and to the surprise of all, including the doctor, not one broken bone or rib was cracked. She did have considerable bruising, but she should be able to return to her duties the next day. As they prepared to continue their journey not a one of them doubted they had observed something very special and would not soon forget it.

-CKS-

Their travel was slow going due to the occasional mishap, but they made fair time and it wasn't long before they were sitting on the ridge looking down on what is now known as the San Fernando Valley. This was going to be their new home. The long, arduous journey was at last over.

"What say, we ride right down Main Street and congregate on the south side of town?" Ray called with a smile.

A loud cheer went up in agreement. No one had to tell the travelers to pull out. The wagons were already headed for the Main Street of Pueblo de Los Angeles.

At the mouth of the street the first wagons stopped their glorious parade. Ray called out. "Why'd ya stop, Mr. Thompson?"

"It don't seem fittin' for the train to end its journey without you in front, Ray. You've been there all the way from Missouri. You should be in the lead now," said Mr. Thompson with the full agreement of the folks trailing behind.

"Larry, John, you heard the man, let's take 'em in!" Ray waved the wagon to pull out and took the lead with his friends.

They kicked up a large cloud of dust with all the wagons, horses, mules, oxen, and people. But it didn't deter the town's people from coming out to greet them. This had to be one of the happiest days of their lives.

As Ray rode he searched the faces of the towns-people for his mother. Finally they would be reunited. The parade ended on the south end of town in a large open field of dirt and sagebrush. Ray had not seen his mother in the crowd, but he knew she was here somewhere. The wagons all came to a stop and the drivers with their families climbed down from the sides. Each began to find a friend that they had made along the journey and rejoiced with a good strong hug. Most had made it through but in the back of their minds they could not help but think of the ones that were left behind.

"Folks! Folks! Could you gather around please? I'd like to say a few words, if I may," Ray said as he climbed up onto the back of one of the wagons.

After everyone had quieted down he continued, "Now I don't have to tell any of you what a great accomplishment this journey has been for all of us. This is a story you'll be able to pass down from one generation to the next. But right now I'd appreciate it if we could take a moment of silence to remember those that are not here with us today."

Hearing some of the ladies begin to cry, he raised his head from thinking about Ida and so many others, and called all together again. "Thank you folks for makin' this journey a lot easier than it could have been. On behalf of train master Quincy Woods; I'd like to welcome each and every one of you to your new home. Now go make a wonderful life for yourselves!" Ray called out as cheers went up again.

He climbed down from the back of the wagon and walked over to Horse who was always standing nearby ready to take to the trail.

John, Larry, Richard, and Laurie were standing next to Horse. "Ray, I figure you're going to be headed into town to find your mother," said Larry.

"That's right," he said as he swung a leg over the saddle.

"Mind if we join you?" asked Larry and John.

"Boys, you know my Ma almost as well as I do. Of course you can join me."

"Laurie and I will make sure your wagons and remuda make it out to the ranch. For now, we're so dead tired all we want to do is park that damn wagon and shoot holes in it. Do you mind?" came Richard's request.

"Not at all Richard, hire a couple of fellas to help and we'll see you out at the ranch, damn that sounds good to say," Ray laughed. "Come on boys, let's go find our Ma."

Ray rode over to Morgan's family wagon and pulled up along the back where Morgan was sitting.

"I'll be staying in town with my folks until we have the wedding, okay?" said Morgan.

"Sounds like a good idea. But we're not waiting too long for that wedding. I want to get you out to the Ranch as soon as possible."

"I love you too, Ray," smiled Morgan. "Are you going for your mother now?"

"Yeah, it's not a huge town, so we should be able to find her in a short time I hope."

"Well good luck, I'll see you tomorrow?" smiled Morgan.

"Of course, a beautiful girl like you needs to have a man around to protect her," Ray teased...

"Oh, go find your ma," laughed Morgan.

### Chapter 41

### The Cabin

The boys turned their mounts heading up the main street, riding straight to the plaza. "Where do we start, Ray?" asked Larry.

He scratched his head. "Well. Generally if you want information you start at the saloon. But it doesn't seem right going there first to ask about my mother. Maybe we could try the church or the marshal's office?" Ray guessed.

"Well there's the marshal's office over there. Why not start there?" pointed John.

The three of them trotted over to the hitching rail in front of the town jail. They dismounted and threw the reins over the rail, tying the horses fast. As they brushed the trail dust from their clothes they stepped up onto the boardwalk. The jail door was open so they walked on in.

"Marshal?" called John, hoping for a response. None came. "Place is empty, Ray. Now what do we do?"

"Well, let's step outside and look around a bit. Maybe we'll see someone who can help." Ray said as he stepped out of the open door slamming right into the arms of a lady who was walking down the boardwalk.

"I am so sorry, Miss. I guess I was in a hurry and wasn't looking where I was...you?" Ray sputtered in shock.

"Why I thought I saw your wagon train come lumbering in, making a huge cloud of dust for all of us to have to breathe. Let me be the first to welcome you, and of course your two friends, to my new home, Ray."

"Samantha Foster! What the hell are you doing here?" Ray said with a sudden fear that at any moment they would be either shot or arrested.

"Why I live here now, came out on the stage with Phillip. I've already met your dear mother. She had the same look on her face as you do, not very friendly, I dare say," smiled Samantha cunningly.

Ray suddenly felt a great fear take hold in his chest, "Samantha, you haven't done anything to my Ma have you? I swear if you've touched her in any way, I'll kill you!" He threatened.

"Oh my, only just met after all this time and you already want to murder another Foster. I guess the trail didn't help you grow up in the least," insulted Samantha as she pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her brow.

"Just remember what I said, Samantha. And I suggest you give my family and friends a wide berth," He finished as he stepped past her, slightly bumping her shoulder.

Samantha just walked on with a smile on her face that just about drove him crazy.

"Boys, we need to find Ma and we need to find her fast. I don't like the way Samantha was acting. Let's find that marshal."

The three of them headed towards the Bella Union since it was the biggest place in view with the most activity. Stepping through the two open doors, they were shocked at the elegance of the lobby. The boys had become accustomed to dirt floors, adobe walls and sod roofs.

They walked over to the clerk's desk and rang the bell. From the back emerged a little man Ray didn't like from the get go.

"Yes, may I help you...gentlemen," he hesitated on the last word as he noticed the inch of trail dust still on their clothes.

"Yes," said Larry. "We're lookin' for a Mrs. Cooper?"

"I do not believe a Mrs. Cooper is registered in this hotel," answered the clerk as he began to retreat behind his curtain.

"Hold up there a minute," Ray said, "Do you know of a woman here in town, named Mrs. Cooper?"

"It is not my function to keep tabs on the people and goings on of said people. Good day gentlemen," finished the clerk as he disappeared behind the curtain.

John walked around the desk, throwing back the curtain to find the clerk sitting in a chair reading the newspaper.

"Sir, how dare you enter my private quarters, you have no right." John stopped the clerk's protest by physically lifting him by the shirt from the chair and throwing him across the small room. John picked the clerk up from the floor and slapped him twice across the face. With the clerk's full attention, John asked the question again. "Do you know where we can find Mrs. Cooper?"

"Oh, Mrs. Cooper, why yes, a lovely lady," said the clerk through a bloody lip. "She lives in the little house on the end of the street. Straight down that way." pointed the clerk.

"Well, thank you very much for the information," said John as he pushed a coin into the clerk's pocket and patted it twice. "In the future, to save us both a lot of time, I'd suggest you answer my friend's questions, straight away, understand?"

"Yes sir, oh yes sir. Do you plan to be in Pueblo de Los Angeles long?" the clerk said obeisantly.

"Yes. Actually we have a ranch outside of town we just took over. So you'll be seeing a lot of us. Thanks again for the information," smiled John as he set the man back down onto his feet and helped him straighten his collar.

John walked from behind the curtain and advised his friends that he knew where Ma lived. They headed out with the clerk watching from the window, cursing his bad luck at their arrival.

John led the way down the street stopping in front of the little house. "I think this is the place," said John as he looked up and down the street to see if there were any other houses Mrs. Cooper might live in.

"The front yard does seem to have her touch," Ray smiled as he pushed through the gate and walked on up to the door.

"Hold up there boys. Now what do you say you raise your hands over your heads and turn around slow like," came the order from behind.

As they turned they were looking down the barrel of a .44 in the hand of the town marshal.

"Marshal, we were just looking for you," blurted Larry.

"Yeah, I see you were," sneered the marshal. "Just keep those hands high and tell me who you are and what's your business with Mrs. Cooper."

"This here is Mrs. Cooper's son, Ray," announced Larry. "We've come all the way from Wisconsin to find her."

"Well, that's different. I heard tell you were coming," said the marshal as he walked up and shook Ray's hand. "Welcome to Pueblo de Los Angeles, Ray!"

"Well thank you Marshal. May we put down our hands now?" asked John.

"Oh yes of course, sorry, put your hands down," laughed the marshal.

"Well I guess if that's it then Marshal, we'll be going on in to see my Ma. It's been a long spell since I saw her and I'd kinda like to go inside now," Ray said as he started toward the door.

"Oh, well she ain't in there, Ray. You see, she's disappeared. I've been looking all over town for her. The last person to see her was..."

"Let me guess, Samantha Foster," Ray interrupted.

"That's right. Now how did you know that?" asked the marshal.

"Just an educated guess!" Ray said bitterly. "Tell me what happened Marshal. We need to find Ma and quick. Samantha Foster has it in for my family and may have already harmed Ma."

The marshal quickly laid out what he had determined.

"That's it Ray, last time she was seen was when she entered the pastor's house," he pointed out the Pastor's home.

"Well then, that's where we start. Come on boys, we got some hunting to do.

"Over at the pastor's house, Ray?" asked Larry.

"I can't think of a better place to start."

-CKS-

The pastor couldn't add anything more to what he had already shared with the marshal.

"Okay boys; let's start by going outside and circling the house. Make bigger and bigger circles until we find Ma's tracks. She couldn't have flown out of this house."

After about an hour John found a single small boot mark behind the Pastor's house. Upon closer examination one could tell that a small woman must have mounted a horse here. "Okay, now we're looking for fresh hoof prints of at least two horses," instructed Ray.

"Why two, Coop?" asked Larry.

"Because she wouldn't have just ridden off; the marshal said she had dinner started back at the house. Someone forced her to ride out."

"Here!" called John, "I think I found them. Three sets of hooves and they took off at a full gallop."

"I think you're right John. Let's see where they take us," Ray said as he mounted up with his friends and rode out of town.

It took them nearly four hours before they began smelling wood smoke. The sun would be setting soon and they wanted to get a look at what was up ahead before it got dark. They dismounted and tied the horses loose so they could break free after a few hours, if the boys didn't return.

They were in steep rolling hills that were covered sparsely by small and large bushes. Using the available cover they worked their way to the top of the ridge and poked their heads over to see what lay on the other side. Below them and to the right was a small cabin. Smoke was drifting out of the chimney that stuck out of the flat roof. The back of the cabin was up against the ridge; it may well have been a part of the ridge wall.

"I don't see any one walking around down there, but there's three horses in the corral. How are we gonna know if your Ma is in there?" asked Larry.

"Well, one of us is going to have to go down there and take a peek," Ray said. "Since it's my Ma, I'll go."

"All right, we'll cover you from up here on the ridge with our Winchesters," said John.

Ray slipped over the edge of the ridge and slowly worked his way down the slope on his hands and knees. Not seeing anyone standing guard, he had made it all the way to the side of the cabin unseen. Pulling his gun from its holster Ray sat for a moment to catch his breath.

Stooped over and leaning against the wall of the cabin he moved towards its front. The only window was next to the front door. He thought he could hear voices coming through the wall of the cabin but he couldn't make out a woman's voice. At the corner of the cabin, he slowly leaned forward to look around the corner. No one was there and the front door was closed. Ray stepped around the corner and just then the front door swung open. He jumped back to the side of the cabin and prepared for a shoot out.

"I just need to use the outhouse, damn it. Deal me out of the next hand. I'll be right back," said a man's voice as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Buck never comes right back when he visits the outhouse. What the hell does he do out there for so long? The place stinks to the high heaven. I run in and out, no stickin' around for me," laughed a voice from inside the cabin. "Now deal."

Ray moved back to the edge of the cabin and slowly moved around its corner. The window was fairly low and covered by a plate of glass unusual for a place like this. He snuck his face up to the very corner of the glass and tried to see inside without being spotted. In the center of the one room cabin was a table with four chairs. One man sat with his back to the front door and the other man sat to his right. They were both holding a fan of cards. It appeared that Buck, who was now busy at the outhouse, had been seated in the chair facing the door. He couldn't see the entire room from this vantage point and wasn't sure if his Ma was in the cabin or not. He moved under the window and came up on the opposite corner of the glass. There she was, lying on a cot in the corner of the cabin. They didn't have her tied; Ray guessed they figured with three of them there she wasn't going anywhere.

The glass suddenly broke in his face followed by the sound of a .44. The bullet was meant for the back of Ray's head. Fortunately it went high. Buck was standing in the outhouse doorway, with a .44 in his right hand and holding up his pants with his left. Larry and John opened up from the ridge. Buck's pants dropped to the floor just about the same time he did, dead before he had a chance to wipe.

Ray threw himself back around the corner of the cabin; hearing a lot of rustling from inside the cabin after the lantern had been blown out. In the dull light of the sunset he could still make out movement inside. Ray watched Larry and John for any signal that someone was coming out.

"I don't know who the hell you are out there, but we got a woman in here, and if you start shootin' you just might hit her. What do ya say we make a deal?"

"Let's hear it?" answered Ray.

"You let us ride out of here with the woman as a shield, and when we get to the top of the ridge, we'll send her back?" offered a voice from inside the cabin.

Ray thought about the offer for a moment but figured he couldn't trust these men. "You let the woman walk out of there right now and I promise you we'll take her and ride. No harm will come to you. But if you don't let her go right now, you can rest assured you won't leave this canyon alive."

"How do we know you won't come in shooting after you have the woman?" asked the voice.

"You don't! But it's the best offer you're going to get!" Ray shouted into the cabin.

After a few tense moments the voice final answered his offer. "Okay, she's coming out, hold your fire," assured the voice from the dark interior.

The front door opened a crack and then a little wider. Mrs. Cooper was pushed out of the open door as it was slammed behind her. "Okay, there she is. Now we kept our end of the bargain, you keep yours."

"All right, you stay put until we're gone. I see a face stick out of that door and I'll blow it off, understood?"

"Yes sir. We don't want any more trouble from you fellas. Just take the woman and head on out."

Ray reached out from around the corner of the cabin and grabbed his mother's arm pulling her out of the line of fire. "Ma, it's me, Ray."

"Oh my God, my baby boy, my little Ray, I would have never left you behind, they told me you were dead," cried Ma.

"Not now, Ma. We can talk this all out later. Right now I need to get you far away and to safety."

"Larry, get the horses. Ride down here and get Ma," Ray called.

"That wasn't the deal," argued a voice from inside.

"We ain't gonna go climbin' up the side of that slope with your guns behind us. No, my partner'll bring in the horses; we'll mount up and ride out. Just sit tight in there and no one'll get hurt."

Larry and John rode to the side of the cabin with Horse in tow. Ray jumped into the saddle and pulled his mother up behind him.

"Now like I said, I see a face or gun barrel sticking out of that door or window and I'll fill that space with lead," warned Ray. "Come on boys, lets ride."

Passing in front of the cabin door that faced the mouth of the small canyon, they kept their guns at the ready as they trotted away from the cabin. The sound of a rifle shot filled the air and Ray felt his mother go limp on his back. John and Larry filled the cabin openings with lead.

"We didn't shoot! We didn't shoot! Hold your fire! We didn't shoot! That shot came from up on the ridge. We ain't shootin'. Look, here's our guns," called the men in the cabin as they tossed their weapons out the window onto the ground.

Looking up towards the ridge Ray could see a small cloud of dust in the moon light where someone must have been sitting a horse when they fired.

"Ma, you okay?" Ray called.

"I have my son in my arms, of course I'm okay," spoke Ma softly in his ear.

"Okay, then hang on. We have some riding to do!" Ray said as he turned Horse up the slope in pursuit of the bushwhacker.

At the top of the ridge all he could make out was a small column of dust heading towards the direction of town.

"Come on boys, let's get Ma home and then we can do some checking around for a tired horse."

### Chapter 42

### The Confrontation

The marshal stepped out of his office to greet them. "Oh thank heaven you found her," he said as he walked toward the horses at a fast pace.

"Mildred, you gave me such a scare. Who did this to you, did they... Mildred? Mildred? Mildred? God no...she's been shot!" cried the marshal as he reached up and pulled her from Ray's back, easing her down into his arms.

"She's been shot! We need to get her up to the docs," cried Larry.

The marshal was already heading across the roadway carrying Mildred with the three of them directly behind him, hollering for the doctor to open up the door.

The doctor's door swung open. "Who the hell would shoot a good woman like Mildred Cooper?" asked the doctor as he cleared his examination table so the marshal could lay her down.

"Now, everyone out! Out!" ordered the doctor as he pushed each of them out of the door and started to close it behind him.

"But I want to stay here with my ma?" declared Ray.

"There's nothin' you can do right now. Better off getting the hell out of the way," finished the doctor.

Ray turned from the door and walked over to Horse. He threw a leg over the saddle and pointed Horse in the direction of the stable.

The liveryman was throwing hay into a stall when he walked in. "Any horse come in here in the past half hour? One that looked like it had been ridden hard?" Ray inquired, pointing at a black quarter horse over in the corner.

"Why, yes sir, that black over there came in here like its tail was on fire."

"Who was riding it?"

"Well, it was that new young lady in town. The one everyone is talking about. She lives over to the hotel or at least she did. I hear she bought the Satinga Ranch and was moving out there tomorrow. So I figure she must be..." the liveryman stopped talking when he saw Ray was no longer there.

Ray trotted Horse over the hitching rail of the Bella Union. After tying Horse off he stepped up onto the boardwalk and walked easy across the lobby floor. A few hotel guests took note of the determined walk of the lone cowboy as he headed for the desk.

He rang the bell and then rang it again. Ray then picked the bell up and threw it into the back room where the clerk lived.

"Yes sir, yes sir, how can I help you," said the clerk, trying to calm Ray. Seeing his eyes, and the fury behind them, he quietly waited for Ray to speak.

"What room is Miss Foster in?" Ray asked calmly.

"Sir, I can't..." the clerk was about to follow his own rules until he saw the look that passed across Ray's face. "Room 300 sir, you can't miss it."

Ray turned from the desk; he was not in a hurry to do what he had to do. With each step he thought about his family and the mill back in Wisconsin. The evil that had come from this woman had to be stopped. No one else could be hurt at the hands of this beast. Reaching the third floor Ray walked up to the outside of Foster's door, pausing for a moment.

"Who's there?" Samantha could hear the determined steps coming toward her room. "Who's there?" she demanded again.

Ray stepped to the front of the door, raised his foot and kicked in the door. It swung wide knocking a pitcher from the stand. Samantha stood on the other side of the room with a small derringer in her hand. She was still dressed in men's pants and shirt and covered with trail dust. Streaks of sweat were running down her temples.

"Looks like you've been out riding, Samantha," Ray said calmly as he continued to step toward her.

"Well. Yes I was. I went for a little ride north of town. Stop! Don't come any closer," demanded Samantha, with a touch of fear in her voice, a sound that Ray had never heard from her before.

"My Ma was shot tonight Samantha. By a no good back shooter," Ray stepped closer.

Suddenly a shot fired. The tiny bullet entered low on his right side. Ray continued toward her.

Samantha began to shake, "I told you I'd shoot. Now stop or I'll kill you!" cried Samantha.

"Just like you tried to kill my Ma, tonight?"

Again another shot fired. This one burned a hole into Ray's chest and just missing his lung.

Samantha dropped the empty derringer and grabbed for the rifle propped up against the dresser. Ray moved quicker and grabbed the rifle before she could. He held the weapon in his hand, smelling the chamber, "this rifle's been shot recently. Is this what you used on Ma tonight?"

"I didn't shoot at your mother. Even if you could prove I did, no one would believe you. This town loves me and they love my money. They won't let anything happen to me. Now get out!" shouted Samantha as she tried to regain her composure.

"So, you're sayin' you did shoot at Ma tonight," Ray said as he reached down and placed his hand on the butt of his .44.

Samantha's eyes darted from his face to his gun and back again. Always accustomed to being in charge she made one last effort. "Listen. Okay, I didn't do it. But if I did, remember that you killed my Pa, so let's call it even. You walk out of here and I won't have you arrested for breaking in here tonight. I promise."

The door opened ever so slowly and in stepped the marshal with a gun in his hand. "Miss Foster, you and I need to talk."

"No marshal, she's mine," Ray said as he started toward her, grabbing the pain in his chest. Apparently the two bullet holes had been draining blood quite profusely. The room spun a few times right before Ray went over. Lying on the floor, unconscious, Samantha moved up over him and smiled, "Marshal, I'm not pressing any charges against this man. Please get him out of my room; he's bleeding all over my carpet."

Larry and John both came rushing into the room after hearing the gunshots.

"Hold up boys," said the marshal as he stretched out his arms to catch the two headstrong boys. "Pick him up and get him over to the doc's office."

"Marshal, ain't you gonna arrest her?" asked Larry.

"There's nothing to arrest her for. Ray was pushing it and she shot him in self defense."

"Fine. If no one is getting arrested then the three of you get out and take your friend with you. NOW!" demanded Samantha.

John started toward her. "You damn bitch, I ought to..."

"John, don't make me have to arrest you, she'd love that," ordered the marshal.

Carrying his arms and legs, John and Larry hustled Ray across the plaza and into the already busy doctor's office.

"What the hell is this?" cried the doctor. "Marshal, you need to enforce that gun law before everyone is in here with a bullet hole."

"Very funny Doc. Just get the lead out of him and leave the law to me. If I've learned anything over my years as a lawman, it's that you'll never disarm the outlaws. So, don't take the guns away from the lawful."

"How bad is he Doc?" asked John, watching the doc check Ray's wounds.

"He's lost some blood. It looks as though the bullets went clean through. Hopefully once I get these holes plugged and stitched, he should be all right. Now get out of here and let me do my job."

"How's Mildred?" asked the marshal.

"She'll be fine. I got the bullet out and she's on the mend. Come back in the morning. She maybe awake by then. Now get out!"

"All right, all right Doc. We're going," said the marshal as he escorted Larry and John out of the door and onto the street.

"You boys gonna be staying in town?" asked the marshal.

"No," said John, "We sent our partners on out to the ranch and we need to meet up with them and let them know what's happened. We'll be ridin' back into town later tomorrow 'cause Coop has a girlfriend staying in town that would kill us if we didn't tell her he's here."

"All right, but ride carefully, boys. We don't know who did the shooting tonight and if there're any others out there waitin' for you..." cautioned the marshal.

"Thanks for the warning Marshal," said John as he and Larry swung into their saddles and rode out of town.

-CKS-

After several hours of riding west of town Larry and John crested a hill that looked down on their future. In the full moon light, they could see a large single story ranch house set up under several large old oak trees on the north end of the property. About a hundred yards to the left of the big house was another single story house that was about two-thirds the size of the first. Smoke was rising out of its chimney.

"Looks like Richard and Laurie have taken up housekeepin' in the house half way up that rise," smiled Larry.

"It sure does. Well can you blame them? It's been a long trip in that damn wagon. Come on. Let's get down there and check in," said John.

John and Larry rode up to the main gate and announced their arrival.

"Come on in boys. We've been waitin' for you," called Richard as he stepped out of the large two-story barn on the right side of the main yard.

"What the hell you doing in the barn Richard? Did Laurie already throw you out?" laughed Larry.

"No. She decided that I'd stay out in the barn 'til we're properly hitched. But that wasn't the main reason. When we rode in there wasn't a soul on the property and from what I've been able to figure there ain't no stock around either. I figured I better stay ready in case someone comes a callin'."

"Good idea, Richard," said John. "Guess we'll have to do some ridin' in the morning to see where the stock is."

"Where's Ray and his Ma? Laurie and I wanted to meet her," asked Richard as Laurie came bouncing down the gradual rise from her house.

"Where's Ray and Mrs. Cooper?" echoed Laurie.

"He was about to tell me Laurie. Come on over," called Richard.

"It's a long story. Is there any hot coffee?" requested John.

"Sure. Come on up to the house and I'll put some on," instructed Laurie as she headed out ahead to get the fire hot.

"This is a really nice house Richard," said Larry as he made himself comfortable at the kitchen table.

"Well, we decided to settle in here until we all can sit down and decide where everyone wants to live. I was afraid we were gonna be spendin' the rest of the summer buildin' a house or two. Fortunately there are enough houses for each of us."

"As far as I'm concerned this house is perfect for you and Laurie," said John, "Larry and I can move into the two story houses across the yard and Coop and Morgan should have the big house because that's the way I see it. If it wasn't for him, there'd be no ranch for any of us."

They were in agreement as Laurie brought cups and the coffee pot to the table. As each began to fix their cup of coffee, John laid out the events of the evening.

"Well, that's the whole story," finished John. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going home to catch some shut eye before the sun comes up. I figure we'll get the lay of the land in the mornin' and then ride back into town to see Morgan and check on Coop and his Ma."

Walking out into the center of the ranch Larry and John stopped and looked at the two houses ready to be occupied. They were nicer houses than either had ever lived in. With the excitement of two small, giggly, boys, Larry and John tossed a coin to decide which house they would take; since they were almost identical it didn't really matter. The two story structures, more towers than houses, rose on each side of the main gate, giving them a great field of fire at the ranch's entrance.

And with that the first night of many nights sitting around the table drinking coffee on the new ranch came to an end.

### Chapter 43

### Lost Herd

The next morning came around early enough. The three men and a couple hands Richard had hired zigzagged across the property on their way to town. They wanted to survey as much of the land as they could and at the same time see where all the livestock had gone.

"Either Quincy couldn't count or someone's stolen the entire herd," said Larry.

"I don't think Quincy had any problem with his countin'," answered Richard.

"I tend to agree with you Richard," added John. "Let's get into town and see how Coop and his Ma are doing. Then talk some with the marshal."

"Sounds good to me," said Richard as he kicked his horse into a trot toward town.

"What the hell do you mean there ain't no livestock out there," Ray yelled, when his friends reached him with the bad news.

"Now calm down Mr. Cooper. You'll reopen those wounds and bleed to death all over my recovery bed," scolded Doc. "It don't look good when someone is carried out of the doctor's office in a coffin. It's bad for business. Now calm down or I'll throw your friends out."

"Okay, okay, Doc, I'm calm," said Ray as he tried to take some deep breaths. "When can I get out of here Doc?"

"Well I guess if you take it real easy and slow, maybe tomorrow," doc answered.

"Great. My Pa always said that a doctor will tell you more days to recover than necessary in order to be extra careful. That means I'm fit to go now," Ray surmised.

"The hell you are. Now lay back down there young fella," demanded the doctor as he tried to push Ray's rising body back down on the bed.

"It'll be all right, Doc. We'll keep an eye on him. Make him sit a spell here and there, and watch for any bleeding," said John.

"Well I can't stop you from killing yourself. You boys watch his side real close. If it starts up you get him back in here right quick, understand?"

"Yes Doctor, we have it," smiled Richard.

"First stop boys, the marshal's office," Ray instructed, as he got dressed, swinging his holster around his hip. Fastening the tie down on his holster caused a sharp pain to run up from his side. "We need to find out what happened to that herd."

After getting dressed Ray went into see his ma. The doc followed him in. "Glad to see you're awake Ma," said Ray as he bent down and kissed her cheek. "Doc here says you'll be just fine. The boys and I need to go check on some things out at the ranch. I'll come back to see you in a little bit, alright?"

"Come here, Ray," ordered Mildred with tears in her eyes and threw her arms around his neck. "I love you so much. I thought I had lost you. If I had known you were still alive I never would have left. You know that, right?"

"Don't be crazy Ma. Of course I know that. They told you I was dead. What else could you do?"

Mildred let loose her hold and laid gingerly back down onto the mattress. "You come right back and see me, okay Ray?"

"I'll be back just as soon as I can." With that Ray kissed her cheek again and walked out of the room with the doc. "When will she be up?"

"Well judging on the rest of the Cooper stock, I doubt I'll be able to keep her in bed for much longer. She might be able to go home in a couple days."

"Thanks Doc," smiled Ray as he shook his hand and headed out the front door with Larry and John.

"Well I didn't expect to see you up and around so soon," said the marshal as they walked into his office.

"It was just a scratch Marshal. We're wonderin' if you had any idea how many head were suppose to be out at Quincy's ranch?"

"Well first off, Ray, that ain't no scratch so you just keep moving real slow for awhile. I've seen bigger men than you get an infection and die within days of getting up too soon."

"Thanks for the concern Marshal, but we need to find out if we've been rustled. There wasn't a single animal on the place when the boys arrived out there last night," inquired Ray.

"Well that doesn't sound right. I know for a fact that Quincy had several hundred head out there and a very large remuda of horses for breedin'. Some of the nicest animals I've ever seen. Shit, we need to ride out there and see if we can pick up a trail. We don't hold to no damn rustlin' around here," cussed the marshal as he rose from his desk and grabbed his rifle from the rack.

"You're ridin' out there with us now?" asked Larry.

"No better time like the present. Young man I'll get my horse saddled and meet you out front of the Bella Union," instructed the marshal as he headed out the door.

"Boys would you mind gettin' my horse saddled and bringin' him over to the Bella? I need to talk to Morgan before I ride out. Also, keep the gettin' shot to yourselves. There's no sense in gettin' any more people watchin' my poor side," Ray said as he walked out the open door and across the plaza.

"Well don't even wait for us to say yes," called Larry from behind Ray.

Ray turned around and looked over at Larry. "Please?" He added.

"That's better. We'll have Horse out front in a few minutes," laughed Larry.

Morgan hadn't told Ray where she was going to be staying, but he figured with her parent's money, this would be their first choice. He walked up to the desk clerk and heard him cuss under his breath.

"Why, Mr. Cooper. You're still in town. I understand we almost lost you last night up in Miss Foster's room," adding under his breath, "shame". "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes. Could you send someone up to the Adams' room and let Miss Morgan Adams know I'm down here and would like very much to see her?" Ray asked politely.

"You mean you're not gonna beat the room number out of me and then march up there and kick the door in?" sneered the clerk.

"Not this time. Just send someone up please," Ray said as he turned and walked over to one of the plush couches sitting in the lobby.

After several minutes he spied Morgan drifting down the staircase like an angel. She was wearing a beautiful long white dress with lots of embroidery. It was fitted at the top and gracefully fell from her hips to the floor. Every eye in the lobby turned to watch this vision enter the room.

"Why Ray, what a pleasant surprise," as she grabbed his arm, dragging him forcefully out onto the street and across to the plaza. Once out of view, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him like she hadn't seen him in years.

Stopping to catch his breath, Ray said, "Wow, Morgan, if I can expect this type of welcome every time I see you, I'm gonna be doing a lot of leavin' and comin' right back," he smiled as he kissed her lips softly.

"Oh Ray, can I begin making arrangements for the wedding?" asked Morgan with her big brown eyes melting his heart.

"You better. If you don't want to be living in sin next week," Ray said.

"Next week! Well I guess I better get goin'. There's so much to do. You must come with me and help pick out some flowers, a cake, oh this is going to be wonderful," sparkled Morgan.

"Morgan, you know I love you and of course I'll help with picking some things out. But right now we have a problem out at the Ranch. Seems someone has run off with all the livestock," Ray explained, hoping she wouldn't explode.

"Well of course, Ray, after all the entire ranch is going to be our home. You must take care of it. I'll be just fine, I'll ask mother to assist me. And where's your mother, I need to invite her to join us?" asked Morgan.

"She's over at the doc's office. You see she got shot last night, but she'll be just fine. She was sleepin' when I last saw her."

"How terrible! Who shot her, and why?" cried Morgan.

"I have a good guess, but I can't prove it, not yet any way," Ray said. "There's the boys with my horse. We need to get going. You sure you'll be all right?"

"You go on, I'll do just fine," smiled Morgan as she gave Ray another kiss and ran off toward the Bella.

The marshal rounded up his deputies and met up with the boys just outside of town. After a few hours of searching for clues, they found where the stock had been herded up and the trail they took heading out. Ray found being in the saddle hurt like hell, but he liked it better than riding that damn hard bed in the doc's office.

"Well all we have to do now is follow the trail straight to the herd," said Larry.

"Not quite," said the marshal.

"I was afraid of that," Larry said as he shook his head.

"Finding them is the easy part. It's the trying to keep from getting yourself shot in the process that's tough," instructed the marshal. "It would be too dangerous for them to attack and give away their position. What we need is for someone to ride point about a hundred yards out from the rest of us. That way if we get too close, they won't be able to spring their trap on the whole group."

"Who the hell do you have in mind for that job Marshal?" asked Larry.

"I can't ask anyone else to do it. Quincy asked me to take charge so I might as well start right now," Ray said as he started to ride out from the rest. "Besides." he said with a grin, "I'm already shot."

It was obvious the rustlers had tried to brush out their trail, but at a couple of different spots they were unable to mask the hooves of that many animals. After traveling several miles to the south the trail turned due east. The shadows on the ground began to stretch long across the ground before Ray caught the first scent of campfire smoke. He held up and dropped off the trail into the brush. Figuring if he was close enough to smell their smoke, they were close enough to drop him out of his saddle.

Ray dismounted and pulled his rifle out of its boot just as the rest of the crew rode up. "Over here gentlemen. I'd say we've arrived," Ray reported.

"Okay, everyone check your ammo before we head out, and don't forget to fill that empty chamber in your .44s," warned the marshal.

They were moving on foot toward the sound of bawling cattle, spreading out in a line, working through thick brush when Ray heard a branch break out ahead. Signaling for all to stop, Ray slowly pulled his knife out of its sheath as he moved cautiously toward the sound. There, leaning up against an oak was a man smoking his tobacco.

Ray couldn't just come up behind him and kill him until he was sure he was one of the rustlers that had stolen their stock. He moved toward the tree from the opposite side so the man couldn't see him coming. At the tree he grabbed his prey by the neck and threw him to the ground. Ray was sure he had his complete attention with his large blade etching across the would-be rustler's neck.

"Here's how it's gonna be. Make one noise and I finish cutting. Got it?" Ray whispered.

The man on the ground shook his head in agreement.

"Good. Now are those the cattle from Quincy Woods' Ranch?" asked Ray politely.

Once again the man shook his head in agreement.

"Now think long and hard about the answer to this next question. If I give you a chance to walk out of here, and I mean walk out, because I can't have you going back and warning anyone, will you take it?"

This time he shook his head emphatically in agreement.

Ray pulled his knife off the man's neck but continued to point it in his face, "Now tell me who's responsible for stealin' our cows."

"The boss is over there with the cattle. I don't think he was the main one on this deal. I don't know who that was," said the man, staring at Ray's blade.

"Right, and I suppose you don't even know the names of the men who hired you?"

"Would it matter? I never met them before. So why would they use their real name around me. But I will tell you they're the scum of the earth. There were ten of them when I hired on. When one of the younger boys got cold feet and wanted to pull out, they up and shot him out of his saddle. That sort of made up my mind to finish the job."

"But now, I've persuaded you otherwise?" Ray questioned sarcastically.

"You sure have. If you let me go I'll head straight back to Kansas where I belong. Hell, I ain't cut out for this type of life."

"Good. Now follow me, I'm gonna lead you back to my partners just so one of um doesn't decide to shoot. Then I want you to give them the lay of the land over there, agreed?" instructed Ray.

"Yes sir, I would like nothin' better than to know those guys were in jail or dead so they ain't on my back trail."

Ray led his prisoner away from the sound of the cattle and back to where his group had gathered.

"Boys, don't shoot, it's me, Ray. I got us a friend here who's gonna help us out."

The group quietly moved in around the nervous prisoner. Ray didn't stop them from making him scared to death. If they could have scared him all the way back to Kansas, all the better.

After a few minutes the young man had filled them in on where the cattle were being held and where each guard was. He was so happy to be getting away from this mess; he even told them what they'd had for dinner the night before.

"Okay, we don't need your life story there partner. Now hit the trail. And if any of us ever see your face around here again, you better be coming at us with a gun in your hand and a sure shot, understand?" Ray threatened.

"Yes, sir, I'm gone!" and with that the cowboy ran away, never looking back. Ray would almost bet he went clear to Kansas without turning around.

"Okay, we know what we're up against now," said the marshal. He drew out the lay of the cattle camp in the dirt as everyone circled around him. "The cattle are bein' held up here in this box canyon. I know this area pretty well, done a little huntin' around here from time to time. There're some trees at the mouth of the canyon with a small stream. I would bet that's where the kid meant the main group was holding up. They're pretty confident with only three lookouts. I guess they don't need any more than that where they put the cattle and all. The lookouts are on top of the ridge on both sides of the box canyon giving them a clear view of anyone coming down the trail. Lucky we smelled that smoke when we did and got off the trail."

"Do you have a plan, Marshal?" asked John.

"Not too many ways to approach this situation," said Larsen as he removed his hat and wiped the sweat from its band, "we need to drop the two guards on the ridge and then finish the guard roamin' around in the brush out front of the canyon."

"You know this area, Marshal. Is there a way to reach the guards unnoticed?" Ray asked.

"Should be, they'll be expectin' us on the trail in front of them. We can go around the ridge to the south and climb the backside of the canyon; it's kind of steep, but not rope steep. Once at the top we'll split up. We should be able to find enough cover to get in close enough to use our knives."

"Okay, sounds good. Why don't John and I go this way? You and a couple deputies find the guy in the brush over there and quiet him," Ray said.

"Now wait a damn minute, I've been riding with you boys all the way from Missouri and I'm a partner in that there ranch. I figure it's about time I shared in some of the load. So I'm telling you true, I'm gonna be one of the ones looking for the guards, " said Richard in no back down terms.

"Okay, you'd make too damn much noise trying to get that huge body up the hill so you and Larry get the rover. Is that all right with you, Richard?" Ray asked with a smile.

"Yeah, that will be good," said Richard as he drew out his knife from the sheath on his belt.

"John and Ray, we'll give you one hour to remove your guard. Same for you Richard, then we come ridin' in hard on horseback and shootin'' anything that shows a gun. John, after you and Ray take care of the guard, you two'd be better served stayin' up on the ridge and coverin' our backs, Okay?" asked the marshal as he looked each man in the eyes.

"Deal," confirmed John and Ray.

Okay then move out you three, and good luck." ordered the marshal.

For a big man, Richard was surprisingly light on his feet and moved low and quiet through the brush. His target had been assigned to move back and forth across the entrance of the canyon where the brush grew tall, giving anyone who stumbled upon their entrance an element of surprise.

John and Ray trotted around to the south end of the ridge where it looked like there was a path of sorts that appeared to be going straight up. It was covered in busted shale. Climbing it was going to be difficult even if they didn't need to do it quietly. They'd be sitting ducks if someone heard them, a real possibility with all the slipping and falling backwards they were doing. Ray made up his mind right then and there to stick some moccasins in his saddlebags and leave them there for work like this. His riding boots weren't made for walking, let alone climbing. At least being out in front of John helped stop his fall. He'd be knocked off his feet and land right on top of John. Unfortunately for John, all he had was the rocks along the side of the trail to grab on to.

Finally at the top with a few minutes to spare, John went to the left and Ray to the right. The ridge at the top of the box canyon was shaped like a horseshoe. They guessed their targets were probably the same distance away from either side of them, being that they were in the middle of the horseshoe. Traveling in opposite directions, they used what little cover there was. For about a hundred yards they crawled on their bellies and used every piece of brush and rock they could find.

When his knees and elbows were blooded from crawling on the rocky soil, Ray was relieved to see his target rise from a rock he had been sitting on. As the lookout let out a large yawn, Ray moved in with his right hand and placed his knife blade deep between the stranger's ribs. He used his other hand to cover the man's mouth so he couldn't call out.

Ray then picked up the lookout's rifle, pulling it from its holster and stuffing it into the back of his gun belt. He moved to get clear view of down below.

The cattle camp was set up just as the young cowboy said. He had failed to mention that all the horses were tied to a single line directly below Ray. Positioned close enough that some of the rustlers might be able to mount up during the start of the attack and escape. Ray decided he couldn't let that happen. Finding a way down the slope he proceeded to move up to where one end of the rope rail was tied.

The sun had gone down but the moon was full and bright and gave off plenty of light that enabled see any activity in the camp. The rustlers were standing and sitting around a couple of small fires under the trees on the opposite side of the canyon mouth.

Ray quietly moved along the rope, talking softly so as not to spook the horses. He hoped the light of the fires would make it difficult for the rustlers to see him moving around. Fortunately, none of the horses moved away from the rope as he pulled their reins loose, letting them drop. He was half way across the rope when he heard the marshal.

"This is the United States Marshal, you are all under arrest, throw up your hands or taste lead!"

The threat went unheeded as they pulled their irons from their holsters and fired into the direction of the marshal's voice. Ray fired two shots in the air to spook the horses that he had untied while he tried to finish untying the rest.

"Some son-of-a-bitch is tryin' to spook the horses!" yelled one of the rustlers as he ran toward Ray's position.

Waiting until he was within a few feet of seeing him raise his revolver, Ray placed one round in the Rustler's gut and another one between his eyes, stopping the rustler in his tracks.

A bullet went whizzing over Ray's head as he untied the final horse. Turning to see a gruff looking old man drawing down on him for another shot, Ray stepped between the remaining horses and began slapping them on the rumps. After the horses fled, and the dust cleared, the gruff old man saw Ray standing with his gun set in its holster.

"It doesn't have to be this way. You can ride out," Ray offered.

The old man just smiled and moved to shoot him. Ray drew and fired all in one motion. The old man dropped to the ground. He had seen his last birthday.

From up on the ridge he could hear John firing as the marshal charged in to finish the fight.

Out in the brush the lone lookout moved to the edge of the brush and remained hidden. From here he could see the marshal sitting on his horse giving out orders. Raising his rifle with his sights set on the marshal's star reflected in the campfires he whispered, "I got you, you damn lawman." Before he could fire off a shot, he heard the branch break behind him. Rising quickly, he turned directly into Richard's knife. With a look of shock and surprise the man drifted down Richard's body before collapsing in a puddle of blood. Wiping the blade off on the dead man, Richard walked over to meet the rest of his group.

The last two men surrendered to the marshal to avoid certain death.

"You takin' em' into town Marshal?" Larry asked.

"Yup, they'll get a fair trial and then we'll hang 'em," stated the marshal.

"Okay boys, what do you say you get those cows and horses back to the ranch while I ride back into town and give a little visit to the doc. To check on Ma and it seems I've managed to open myself up again." informed Ray.

"Ray, you sure you weren't shot again?" asked Richard.

"No, it's the hole from last night. It isn't bleedin' that bad but I need to get it plugged. Plus it gives me an excuse to get out of herding those cows this time, at least." Ray answered with a snicker.

Everyone, including Ray was bone tired.

"Don't worry about the dead rustlers boys, we'll send out the undertaker in the morning," said the marshal as he rode behind his prisoners toward town.

"Mind if I ride along with you Marshal?" Ray called out.

"Don't mind a bit," said the marshal with a smile.

-CKS-

The following weekend Ray was standing next to Morgan in front of the preacher. As expected Morgan was wearing a long, beautiful white gown and Ray was in his new broadcloth suit. His mother sat in the front row with the doctor on one side to make sure she was as tough as she said she was. Marshal Larsen sat on her other side, holding her hand. Morgan's parents sat in the front row on the opposite side of the aisle wearing their eastern best. The rest of the seats were filled with the friends and families who had ridden with them from Missouri, and the new friends they had met in the town they now called home.

When the Preacher announced Morgan as the new Mrs. Ray Cooper, Ray took her face in his hands and kissed his new bride for all to see. The church erupted in gleeful applause and laughter echoed from the mouths of the bride and groom. It was a joyous day, one that marked the end of a journey and heralding in the beginning of another.
About The Author

George Townsend was born in Ionia Michigan. The Townsends had found early success in ranching, farming, and land ownership. As a teenager the family uprooted and moved west to a small city smack in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley in California. Hanford was a far cry from the Midwest. To his great delight, George soon discovered Goat Ropers, Good ol' Boys, and some real life Cowboys along with a warm, down-home feel. It didn't take long before George fit right in and created the friendships that make up many of the characters in his books.

Cooper Series Titles

Book 1- Revenge Requires Two Graves

Book 2 - Confederate Horses

Book 3 - Little Man's Eyes

Book 4 - Small Boots

Author Website:

<http://www.cooperseries.com/>

