A Frontier Christmas (15 page)

The sleigh glided smoothly and swiftly through the snow, and the trip into town had been accomplished rather quickly. Duff took care of some business at the Chugwater Bank and Trust, then they stopped by Vi's Pies for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.

“When will Meagan get back from Rawhide Buttes, have you heard?” Vi asked Duff.

“'Tis my understanding she'll be back a few days before Christmas.”

“Good, then she'll be here in plenty of time for the dance,” Vi said.

“What dance?” Elmer asked innocently.

“What dance?” Vi reached out and pulled the piece of pie away from him. “Elmer Gleason, if you don't know about the Christmas dance, you can just find yourself another place to have pie.”

Duff, Smoke, and Matt looked at each other and grinned.

“Oh,
that
dance,” Elmer said. “Sure I know about
that
dance, for haven't I asked you to go with me?”

“You have not.”

“Then I'll be askin' you now.”

Vi smiled and slid the pie back to him. “Why, I would be happy to go with you, Mr. Gleason.”

 

 

Leaving Vi's Pies, the four men walked down the street to Fiddlers' Green.

“Hello, Duff, Elmer. Good to see that you could make it out on a day like today,” Biff Johnson said by way of greeting.

“It's a good day for sleighing,” Elmer replied.

“Biff, I'll be wanting ye to say hello to m' friends Smoke 'n Matt Jensen,” Duff said.

“Any friend of Duff MacCallister is a friend of mine. Brothers, be you?” Biff asked.

“Of a sort,” Smoke replied

Suddenly, Biff got a knowing look on his face and put his hand to his forehead. “Glory be! Smoke and Matt Jensen? Sure 'n I've heard of the two of you. Why, you two men are famous. And here you are in my saloon.”

“And a very nice saloon it is,” Smoke said graciously.

“Would you boys be wanting a dram? Or do you think it's a bit too early yet?” Biff asked.

“Och, mon, tis already five p.m. at the White Horse pub in Donuun in Argyllshire,” Duff said, speaking of his hometown back in Scotland.

“Then it is plenty late enough,” Biff replied, smiling as he poured scotch into a glass. “I know that Elmer will have a beer. What about you two?” He held the bottle up by way of questioning Smoke and Matt.

“Beer will be fine,” Smoke answered for both of them.

Before drawing the beers, Biff slid the glass across the bar to Duff, and Duff lifted it. “To all the lads who are waiting at Fiddlers' Green,” he proposed.

“No matter the color of the uniform,” Elmer added.

Jesse, T. Bob, and Jacobs were standing at the bar—a few boards stretched between barrels—in what passed for a saloon. It served beer and whiskey, though the cost per drink was three times what it cost on the outside. When Jesse had complained about it, he was told that he and his brother were free to leave, but reminded that they couldn't take the horses with them.

“You boys seem to have made yourselves to home, eatin' my food, stayin' under my roof,” Dingo said. “And right now, you're drinkin' my beer.”

“Yeah, well, I see that you're keepin' a careful tab on what we're drinkin',” Jesse said. “I expect you'll be collectin' your money as soon as we get some.”

“You expect right. And that brings up a good point. Just when are you goin' to do somethin' to earn your keep?”

“Like what?” Jesse asked.

“Like findin' some way to bring in some money.”

“Do you have something in mind?” Jesse asked.

“Rob a store, hold up a stagecoach. I don't care what you do. But if you're goin' to stay here, you have to do somethin'. I didn't take you to raise.”

“Max, what about Duff MacCallister?” Nitwit Mitt asked.

Jesse looked at Nitwit. “What about 'im?”

“I understand he's the one who hunted you boys down,” Dingo said.

“Yeah, he's the one done it, all right.” T. Bob put in his two cents' worth.

“Then I take it that you two don't hold him in very high regard?”

Jesse snorted. “You take it right.”

“It could be that these here boys might be just the ones to take care of the job you been wantin' done,” Nitwit pointed out to Dingo.

The outlaw leader nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He took a few more minutes, then agreed. “Yeah, you might be right.”

“We might be the ones to take care of what?” T. Bob asked.

“Killin' MacCallister,” Dingo said.

“Wait a minute. That's what you want? You want us to kill MacCallister?”

“Is there somethin' wrong with that? You would like to see him dead, wouldn't you?”

“You're damn right there's somethin' wrong with that,” Jesse said. “We'd like to see him dead, but I sure as hell ain't got no plans in mind to go after 'im.”

“Why not?” Dingo asked. “If you are, you sure got my blessin'.”

“Your blessin' ain't enough. Like the feller here said, me an' T. Bob has already done tangled with him once, 'n I don't aim to run across him again if I can help it.”

“What if you was to get paid to take care of 'im?” Dingo asked. “Not only get paid, but if I let you keep the horses and stay here without havin' to pay anything?”

Jesse wasn't sure about that offer. “Why do you want him kilt?”

“I'm not the only one. A lot of people want him dead,” Dingo said.

“Yeah, but there ain't nobody else ever actually offered to pay someone to have him kilt. Leastwise, not as far as I know. Why do you want him kilt?”

“Because he killed my brother, Johnny Taylor.”

“Taylor? I thought your name was Dingo.”

“We had different fathers. Ma just made up names for us, seein' as neither one of us ever actual seen our old man. And truth to tell, I don't think she even knew who it was that spawned either one of us, seein' as she was a saloon gal and sometimes laid with half a dozen men a night.”

Jesse considered that information. “How much are you willin' to pay?”

“One hunnert dollars.”

“That ain't much for goin' after a man like Duff MacCallister,” T. Bob complained.

“It is when you consider that I'll let you keep your horses, and eat and stay here for free.”

“What good is horses to a dead man? I've seen MacCallister shoot. No, sir, I intend to stay as far away from him as I can,” T. Bob said.

“Do you think, for one moment, that MacCallister ain't goin' to be comin' after you again?” Dingo asked. “You boys killed the son of the mayor of Chugwater. Not only the son, but his wife and children. MacCallister tracked you down once. He'll do it again. Trust me, you are goin' to have to deal with him one way or the other.”

“He's right, T. Bob,” Jacobs said. “He had a personal stake in what you men done, which is why he come after you in the first place. Soon as he learns you've escaped, he's going to be comin' after you again.”

“With someone like that, two to one ain't that good of odds.” Jesse looked at Jacobs. “Would you come with us?”

Jacobs looked over at Dingo. “Make it a hunnert and fifty dollars. If you do, I'll join 'em, and that'll give us fifty dollars apiece.”

Dingo combed his fingers through his beard, pulling out bits of food. He examined his fingertips for a moment, then flipped them away. “All right. I'll go a hunnert 'n fifty.”

Jacobs looked at the other two for a moment, seeking their approval. They nodded. “Okay. You've got a deal.”

“You think you boys can do it?” Dingo asked. “Somebody like MacCallister takes a lot of killin”.”

Jacobs removed the makings and rolled himself a cigarette. “That's all right. Me an' these two boys has done a lot of killin'.”

“When will you do it?” Dingo asked.

“Soon as we get the money.”

Dingo shook his head back and forth a couple times. “You ain't goin' to get the money till the job is done.”

Jacobs smiled. “Far as I'm concerned, you can figure he's as good as dead right now.”

“Good as, don't mean he's dead,” Dingo said.

“He will be,” Jacobs promised.

“Oh, and we ain't got no money 'tall,” Jesse complained. “Like you said, we been eatin' your food and drinkin' on the tab here for a couple days. If we leave here to try 'n pull a job, or go take care of MacCallister, it's goin' to be damn hard, seein' as we ain't got so much as a penny to our name.”

“I tell you what. I'll give twenty-five dollars apiece, now. That should hold you over until you can find a job to do. There's money to be made if you'll just do it.”

“But one-third of whatever we steal goes to you, right?”

Dingo smiled. “Yes, but look at it this way. Two-thirds of the money goes to you.”

“He's right, Jesse. If two-thirds of the money goes to us, that's more 'n we got now,” Jacobs explained.

“All right,” Jesse agreed. “Let's go find some money.”

The town was small, just as Wally had said, but the board sidewalks were full of men and women, farmers and ranchers, looking in the windows of the shops, hurrying to and fro.

“What the hell?” Jesse was not happy. “I thought you said they wasn't no more 'n a couple hunnert people here. There's that many out on the street.”

“Must be because of Christmas,” Jacobs said. “Anyhow, there ain't hardly none of 'em wearin' guns, so they ain't nothin' to worry about. Let's do it and be done.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Jesse said, holding up his hand. “Let's not be in such a hurry. What do you say we ride up 'n down the street once just to have us a good look-see?”

“Yeah, that's probably a pretty good idea,” Jacobs agreed.

“T. Bob, you take the left side. Count everybody you see carryin' a gun. Wally, you check the folks that's mounted. I'll take the right.”

The three men rode slowly down the entire length of the town, then they turned their horses and rode back.

“I didn't see nobody that was armed,” T. Bob said.

“I seen only one on my side, but I'd be willin' to bet he ain't never fired it at nothin' more dangerous than a tin can,” Jesse said.

Jacobs smiled. “Well then, what do you say we make us a little withdrawal? T. Bob, you stay outside with the horses.”

They rode to the bank and dismounted. T. Bob held the reins of all three horses with his left hand, while in his right he held his pistol, though he kept it low and out of sight.

As soon as Jacobs and Jesse were inside, they pulled their pistols.

“All right, people. I don't reckon I have to tell you what this is,” Jacobs shouted, waving his gun around.

“God in heaven! It's a holdup!” someone cried.

“Nah, we're just collecting for Christmas,” Jesse said. “You, teller. Empty out your bank drawer and put all the money in a bag!”

Nervously, the teller began to comply, emptying his drawer in just a few seconds. He handed the bag to Jacobs, who'd kept his gun pointed on him.

“Damn. Lookie here!” Jacobs held the bag high. “Whoowee! There's two, maybe three thousand dollars here.”

“Let's take it and be gone!” Jesse shouted.

“You'll take nothin'!” a customer suddenly shouted.

Jacobs swung his gun toward the customer, who was also armed. The customer fired first, but missed. The outlaw returned fire and didn't miss. Jesse fired toward the teller's window, and his bullet shattered the shaded glass around the teller cages. Another customer in the bank fired and Jesse returned fire, killing him.

“Let's get the hell out of here!” Jacobs shouted.

 

 

The townspeople outside the bank heard the shots and realized at once what was going on.

“The bank!” someone shouted. “They're robbin' the bank!”

“Jesse, Wally!” T. Bob shouted. “Get out of there! Fast!”

One of the armed townspeople ran toward the bank with his pistol drawn. T. Bob shot him. Seeing one of their own shot down, the townspeople began screaming and running for cover.

Clutching the canvas bag in his left hand, Jacobs backed out through the door. Jesse followed, firing back into the bank. T. Bob, who was already mounted, passed the reins over to them.

“Let's get out of here!” he shouted to the other two.

Across the street, a young store clerk, no more than a boy, came running out of the store wearing his apron and carrying a broom in one hand and a rifle in the other. He dropped the broom, raised the rifle, and fired at the three robbers. His bullet hit Jacobs in the head, killing him instantly. He fell from the horse with the money sack still in his hand.

“They got Wally!” T. Bob shouted, throwing his leg over to dismount.

“What are you doing? Keep going!” Jesse yelled.

“But the money!”

“To hell with the money!” Jesse's voice was pitched high in fright.

“We can't just leave it!”

“You stay if you want. I'm gettin' the hell out of here!”

Seeing that Jesse didn't intend to stop, T. Bob remained mounted, and the two brothers started away from the bank at a gallop.

Several others were armed, and bullets began flying. One of the bullets killed Jesse's horse. Even as he was going down, Jesse leaped from the saddle and ran toward the nearest hitch rail. Spooked by the gunfire, several horses tied there reared and pulled against their restraints. Jesse untied the closest horse and jumped on, then galloped down the street after T. Bob, who hadn't stopped to wait for him.

By the time the sheriff got the townspeople organized and mounted, the bank robbers had opened up a lead of two miles. The pursuit was ineffective at best, and after a fruitless gallop of no more than fifteen minutes, the posse decided that since the would-be robbers had not gotten away with the money, they would do better to go back to town to bury the dead.

Tim Adler walked into the main house, pushing Bad Eye Sal in front of him. “Look who I found trying to leave.”

Dingo, who had been drinking a beer, put down his glass and looked at Bad Eye Sal with an evil smile on his face. “I thought we had talked about this.”

“Max, please, let me go. You've got no right to keep me here if I don't want to stay.”

Dingo stepped up to her and, with a vicious backhand, knocked her to the floor. “Get back into your room. I'll deal with you later. If you try and leave again, I'll kill you.”

“Ha!” Adler said. “She tried to tell me she was goin' to town to get somethin' for you, but I know'd she was lyin'.”

“Thanks for bringing her back,” Dingo said as he picked up his beer.

“Listen, I heard you was goin' to give Jacobs 'n them Cave brothers fifty dollars apiece if they can kill MacCallister. Is that true?”

“Yeah.”

“They ain't goin' to get the job done.”

Dingo took a swallow of his beer, then studied Adler over the rim of the glass. “Why do you say that?”

“MacCallister is too good for them.”

“There's three of them, only one of MacCallister.”

“From what I heard they was three to one before, too. Only MacCallister kilt one of 'em, and brung the other two in. I'm tellin' you, they ain't goin' to get the job done for you.”

“Are you goin' to tell me that you can?”

“Me, Jed Depro, Aaron Pollard, and Merlin Morris can. That is, if you'll give us the same amount of money you're givin' them.”

Dingo raised an eyebrow. “A hundred and fifty dollars?”

“They's four of us,” Adler said.

“So?”

“You're givin' them fifty dollars apiece. That's what we want.”

“What makes you think you can do it, if they can't?”

“We can do it 'cause we're smarter. And that's what it's goin' to take. It's goin' to take someone who is smart.”

Dingo nodded. “All right. I'll give you fifty dollars apiece if you kill MacCallister.”

Adler smiled. “You got yourself a deal!”

“You don't get the money until after the job is done,” Dingo said.

Adler ran his hand across the short, black stubbles on his cheek. “All right,” he said after a moment's pause. “All right. We'll do it.”

“I ain't never seen this here MacCallister feller. What does he look like?” Pollard asked when Adler told the others about the deal he had made.

“I don't know. I ain't never seen 'im neither,” Adler replied.

“Well, if there ain't none of us what's ever seen 'im, how are we goin' to find 'im?”

“They say he's a big 'un, 'n from what I've heard about 'im, he spends some time in Chugwater. So that's where we'll be headed,” Adler replied.

“Chugwater? I been there a couple of times,” Depro said. “That's near a day's ride from here.”

“We'll start out first thing in the mornin',” Adler suggested.

“They got a saloon there, do they?” Morris asked.

Adler frowned. “You ever been anywhere, where there ain't no saloon?”

“No.”

“Then it's more 'n likely they got one in Chugwater.”

“They do have one there,” Depro said.

“Then that's where we'll start.”

“What about Wally 'n them two brothers? If they get there first, they'll be the ones gettin' the money.”

Adler smiled. “More 'n likely they'll be lookin' for some store or somethin' somewhere to get a little money before they start lookin' for MacCallister. But it don't matter none if they do get there first.”

“What do you mean, it don't matter? What if they kill him before we do?” Morris asked.

“Like I said, it don't matter none. If they kill 'im first, all it means is that they'll be doin' the job for us. But they won't be gettin' no money.”

“Are you sayin' you don't think Dingo will actually pay once MacCallister is kilt?” Depro asked.

“Oh yeah, he'll pay all right. He just won't pay them, 'cause they'll be dead,” Adler replied with a broad smile.

 

 

Dingo stepped outside the house to meet Jesse and T. Bob as they rode up. “Where's Wally?” he asked as the two men dismounted.

“He's dead.”

“Dead? What happened?”

“He was kilt while we was robbin' a bank over in Sweetwater,” T. Bob said.

Dingo smiled. “You robbed a bank, did you? Well, that's just real good of you boys. How much money did you get?” He showed absolutely no concern over the news that Wally Jacobs, supposedly one of his friends, had just been killed.

“We didn't get none,” T. Bob said.

“How can you rob a bank and not get no money?” Dingo asked.

“We got money all right. We got what looked like a couple thousand,” Jesse explained. “Wally, he was carryin' the money sack when we come out of the bank, and as we was ridin' out of town, he got hisself shot in the head. He went down and the money sack went down with him.”

“And you didn't pick it up?”

“They was more bullets flyin' aroun' than ants at a picnic,” Jesse said. “Believe me, that wasn't no place to be. Me 'n T. Bob barely got out alive as it was.”

“What happened to the horse Wally was mounted on?” Dingo asked quietly.

“What happened to his horse? I don't know. It run off, I suppose. Why do you care about his horse?”

“It wasn't his horse. It was mine, same as the horses you boys is ridin'. Seems to me like you boys didn't do nothin' but get a man kilt and a horse run off for nothin'.”

“We got a horse kilt, too,” T. Bob said. “The horse Jesse was ridin' got shot from underneath 'im just as we was ridin' out.”

“How did you get here, then?”

“I stoled another horse,” Jesse said with a proud smile, pointing the mount he had been on.

Dingo looked at the horse for the first time. “Yeah, I see that it's a different horse. Get rid of him.”

“What do you mean get rid of him? He's a good horse,” Jesse said. “Oh, I know what it is. You don't like it that I got m' own horse now.”

“That ain't it,” Dingo said. “I just don't want no stoled horses around here. When one of 'em gets loose, they most of the time go back to whoever owns 'em, and that could lead folks back here.”

Jesse couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You say get rid of it. Get rid of it how?”

“Shoot it,” Dingo said.

“The hell you say. I'm not going to shoot my—”

Dingo interrupted Jesse in mid-comment by pulling his pistol and shooting the horse. The horse, with a whicker, fell where it stood, then lay on the ground kicking.

“That was a hell of a thing for you to do! What made you shoot an innocent horse like that?” Jesse asked.

“You're a strange one, you are,” Dingo said. “You kilt a whole family, includin' kids, and you're concerned about a horse? A horse that ain't even yours?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Yeah, I guess I see what you mean.”

“Finish it off,” Dingo ordered.

Jesse pulled his pistol and pointed it at the horse's head, then pulled the trigger. “Seems a damn shame, though. How are me 'n m' brother goin' to kill MacCallister iffen I don't have a horse?”

“I'll get you another horse, which means you'll owe me for two of 'em. But for now, you don't worry none about killin' MacCallister. I've got that took care of.”

Jesse smiled. “You mean the sumbitch has been kilt?”

“Not yet, but I've got four good men out to do the job.”