Silver City Massacre (14 page)

“Well, now,” he replied, “that's mighty generous of you to offer, but there was no damage to anything. There was a pretty bad-lookin' bump on the side of Sid Hadley's face, but no harm done to the saloon.”

“Well, I don't want my men causing any trouble in town,” Beauchamp continued. “Just a little barroom fight between my men and some of the miners around town, I reckon.”

Now you're getting down to it,
Jake thought,
so I'll tell you what you really want to know
. “No, sir, your boys—really was only Hadley—got into it with a couple of strangers, just come to town. The feller that laid Sid out cold said his name was McAllister, and said he was Boone McAllister's brother. I don't know who his friend is.”

Beauchamp didn't reply for a second or two, his face expressionless, and his eyes locked unblinking on Jake's. “There was just the two of them? Nobody else with them?”

“That I can't say,” Jake replied, although he knew. “It was only the two of 'em that came in here.”

Beauchamp paused again to think about it. “Well, like I said, I just wanted to make sure my boys didn't do any damage in here.” He turned abruptly and made for the door.

“Good day to ya,” Jake called after him, a sly smile on his face.
There'll be hell to pay for somebody,
he thought.

It was not a secret that there was bad blood between Beauchamp and McAllister, and it would be only a matter of time before somebody ended up getting shot. Jake, like other honest businessmen in town, had no notion of the war going on between Beauchamp and McAllister.

•   •   •

Sheriff Jim Crowder quickly put his coffee cup on the shelf behind his desk when he glanced out the window and saw Boss Beauchamp striding across the street toward his office. Hurriedly getting to his feet, he moved to open the door.

“Good mornin', Mr. Beauchamp,” he said.

“It's afternoon,” Beauchamp replied curtly. “What do you know about McAllister's brother coming through town?”

“Yes, sir,” Crowder said, “I heard he was in town the other day.”

“Why didn't you let me know?” Beauchamp demanded. “How many men did he have with him?”

“I didn't have any idea you'd wanna know. It was just him and another feller, an Injun, a woman, and a young girl. That's what Toby Bryan told me. I didn't even see 'em. He said they drove a small herd of horses with 'em—left 'em to graze behind Toby's forge while they went in the saloon. You know I'da sent somebody to tell you if I'd thought you wanted to know.”

Beauchamp's mind was spinning, at first with disgust for the report Sid Hadley had given him of a dozen or more gun hands, but then it struck him that the opportunity to drive McAllister out for good might not be slipping away after all.

“Three men—one of them an Indian—and two females, eh?” Hadley had him thinking he was going to hire on more gun hands to combat the crew McAllister had brought in.

“That's what Toby said,” Crowder replied.

Three men were not enough to concern Beauchamp since he still had an advantage in numbers, and his men were all hardened gunmen. But what if these new arrivals were only the first to show up? What if McAllister was planning to bring in more men, preparing for an all-out war? He rapidly came to the conclusion that, if he was going to drive McAllister off that mountain, it needed to be done before McAllister had a chance to further strengthen his hand. Beauchamp's mind began working on a plan to get rid of his nemesis for good and all.

“You know,” he told Crowder, “something's going to have to be done about McAllister stealing cattle off my range. I've stood it for as long as I intend to, and I might have to do something about it. I've gone out of my way to try to be neighborly with him, but he just doesn't want any part of it. So the next time I catch him rustling my cattle, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

“You want me to ride out there and talk to McAllister about this?” Crowder asked.

“I don't know if it would do any good,” Beauchamp replied. “A man like that doesn't have much respect for the law. It might be best to just let me handle it. Maybe McAllister and I can have a little talk and settle our differences.”

“Yes, sir,” Crowder said, relieved to have an out. “You're probably right about that. He oughta have enough sense to know he can't go up against your boys.”

“We don't have any room for troublemakers like Boone McAllister in our town, and I'm willing to stand up against his kind, for the good of Silver City. I'll see what I can do to settle this thing peacefully, but I'll fight if I'm forced to.”

“Yes, sir,” Crowder replied. “No man could fault you for that. Maybe I should ride out to his place with you, though.”

“It's your job to keep the peace here in town. Best let me handle the rustling problem.”

“Right,” Crowder said with relief. “You know best. I'll keep an eye on his crew if they show up in town again.”

Beauchamp left the sheriff's office satisfied that he was free to get rid of Boone McAllister, the thorn in the side of his plans, for good and all. He felt secure in the thought that Jim Crowder would testify that he was within his rights to protect his cattle from being rustled. There was no one else to prove his accusations false.

He almost laughed when he thought about the opposition he was preparing to face, if he was quick to act: two white men, one Indian, and two females, maybe three if McAllister's Shoshoni woman was to be counted. There was no longer a question of frightening the obstinate squatter to pack up and leave. Now it was war, and he intended to wipe them all off the face of the earth.

No reason to wait another day,
he thought. Then he cautioned himself not to act too soon. It wouldn't hurt his cause to let the sheriff think he was trying to settle the problem peacefully.

Two days,
he decided.
You've got two days, McAllister
.

•   •   •

Unaware that all hell was about to come down upon them, the brothers McAllister made their plans to protect themselves. They had decided there was no way they could definitely say that the dead man lying at the foot of the north meadow was on Beauchamp's payroll, or that he had acted on Beauchamp's orders. Consequently, they decided that they could expect a continuation of the harassing raids on the cattle and the mine.

Joel was in favor of carrying the battle to Beauchamp, but Boone argued that he wanted to build a solid future in Silver City. And while it was legal in the eyes of the law to defend one's property, the army and the U.S. Marshals Service might come down hard on both sides of a range war. Finally he persuaded Joel that it was best to continue to maintain a defensive position and hope to demonstrate to Beauchamp that the McAllisters were here to stay.

“If he keeps losing a man or two every time he sends one of his little raiding parties over here, he's gonna have to give up eventually.”

“What if he gets tired of sending two or three men to pick away at us?” Joel asked. “What if he decides to storm over here one night with all his men, hopin' to rub us all out at once?”

“I don't think even Beauchamp has that much brass,” Boone said. “Hell, he's tryin' to take control of the whole town. How would it look to everybody if he murdered us all?”

“Maybe you're right,” Joel said. “You were always smarter than me. At least, you always thought you were.” He chuckled at his attempt at humor. “I'm thinkin' I might ride into town, tomorrow or the next day, and see if the sheriff knows what's goin' on out here.”

“Suit yourself, but remember I told you Beauchamp is the one who put that dumb bastard in the sheriff's office in the first place.”

•   •   •

Lena Three Toe led Mike Strong into the parlor where Boss Beauchamp was waiting.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Beauchamp?” Strong asked.

Beauchamp nodded toward a chair. “Sit down, Mike. I want to have a little talk.”

“Yes, sir,” he responded, and dutifully seated himself on a straight-back chair opposite his boss. He was not totally at ease with the situation, because Boss never invited any of the men to sit down with him, so he wondered what trouble he had gotten himself into.

“I think it's time I found out if you and your men are worth the money I pay you. Up till now you'll have to admit that you haven't had to do a helluva lot to earn it.”

“No, sir,” Strong replied, thinking that he was about to get a cut in pay.

“Well,” Beauchamp went on, “I'm going to give you and every one of your boys a chance to earn a bonus of a hundred dollars if you successfully do the job I've got in mind.”

Strong's expression of concern was immediately replaced with one of enthusiasm. “We're ready to do whatever job you've got in mind,” he assured his boss.

He had no concerns regarding the nature of the job, assuming it had to do with killing someone. For that was the primary reason he and every one of his men were on the payroll. They were all wanted men in different states or territories, and not a man hesitated when it came to murder.

Beauchamp then told Strong what he had in mind to do. It did not surprise him that his foreman was immediately receptive to it. Beauchamp had given his plan a lot of thought since his visit with the sheriff. His initial plan to simply massacre everyone on the McAllister spread, under the guise of a range war over cattle, had caused some concerns to arise. The report of a range war might possibly cause the army to send a troop in to investigate. He wanted to prevent that at all costs. Then Strong made a comment that gave him another idea.

“Too bad ol' McAllister don't have an Injun raid like that one that killed that family over on War Eagle Mountain last year,” he said with a smug grin on his face.

“By God,” Beauchamp exclaimed, “that might be the very thing to happen—an Indian massacre to wipe out the whole damn bunch of them.” He paused to recall the incident on War Eagle Mountain and think about it for a moment. “All for nothing, too. There wasn't enough gold on that claim to bother with.”

“That'd sure 'nough be bad luck for poor ol' Boone McAllister, wouldn't it?” Strong commented with a chuckle, warming to the idea. “Hell, we've even got an Injun—ol' Slow Sam. Leastways, he's half Injun.” The man he referred to was wanted in Oklahoma Territory for the murder of a family of five. His name was Sam Slow Pony, but the men called him Slow Sam. “We could even dress up like Injuns,” Strong said, completely carried away by the novel idea of the murderous raid.

“There won't be any need to, if you do the job right,” Beauchamp said. “There won't be any witnesses to tell anyone who did it. You get the men together and get them ready to ride.” He hesitated a moment, wondering if McAllister had any more men coming. “Tomorrow night,” he decided. “That should give you any time you need to make your plans.” Strong got up to leave. “And, Mike, I'm holding you responsible to get the job done. There can't be one person left alive on that mountain.”

“You don't have to worry about that,” Strong assured him. “We'll have the army out lookin' for the Injun war party that done in them poor folks.”

There was a definite threat of snow in the clouds that hovered over the stark wooden structures of Silver City, giving the dull gray buildings an even more forlorn appearance as the gray Indian pony loped along the one road through town. To Joel McAllister, the town looked less hospitable than it did when he had seen it before. He reminded himself that the people of Silver City had no knowledge of the murderous war waging between Ronald Beauchamp and the McAllisters. He didn't expect much cooperation from the sheriff, but as he had told Boone, he thought it was in their best interest to let the law know their side of the story. This was just in case it became necessary for the law to become involved in the dispute.

Riley had bemoaned the fact that he was missing an opportunity to visit the saloon again, but he understood the necessity of staying behind to help guard the ranch. Joel assured him that he planned a short visit, so there wasn't going to be any time wasted on drinking whiskey. This in spite of the contention Riley made that time spent drinking whiskey was never wasted time.

Toby Bryan looked up from his work and gave Joel a nod as he rode past the blacksmith's shop, reminding him that he had to bring the horses in to be shod. Joel returned Toby's nod with the touch of his finger to his hat brim.

Across from the Silver Dollar, a small building proclaimed itself to be the sheriff's office. Joel wheeled the gray in by the hitching rail and dismounted. As on most occasions, Jim Crowder was seated at his desk, drinking coffee. He glanced up when Joel walked in the door, thinking he was probably one of the many prospectors with a claim somewhere who had come to complain about a claim jumper or some other bothersome problem. On second thought, on seeing that Joel was dressed in buckskins, he had the notion that he was one of the men Beauchamp had warned him about.

“Mornin', Sheriff,” Joel said. “My name's Joel McAllister. I thought I'd best come in and tell you about some cattle rustlin' goin' on at my brother's place.”

“Oh, now,” Crowder replied, already with a hint of skepticism, “is that a fact? McAllister cattle?”

It seemed an odd question, but Joel answered, “Yeah, McAllister cattle, and it ain't the first time it's happened. This time, though, we were able to catch them in the act. There were three rustlers. We drove them off, except one, and he's still lyin' out behind a pile of rocks where we left him for the buzzards. I'm pretty sure one of the two that got away was hit once, maybe twice, but he stayed in the saddle. We thought you just might wanna know about it, since a man got killed.”

Crowder reacted at once. “You shot a man? Who was it?”

“I don't know for sure,” Joel replied. “He didn't have anything on him to identify him, but I suspect if you took him over to Blackjack Mountain, some of Beauchamp's men could tell you who he was. You might even find the other one that got shot.” He paused to watch Crowder's obviously confused reaction. “Matter of fact, if you're inclined to do that, you might still beat the buzzards to the body, and you could take him over to Beauchamp's.”

“Well, I ain't inclined to do that,” Crowder retorted. Then he remembered Boss Beauchamp's complaint that his cattle were being stolen and he suspected McAllister was the culprit. “These fellers you shot, were they on Mr. Beauchamp's property?”

Joel was rapidly coming to appreciate Boone's assessment of the bungling sheriff. “No. Like I just said, they were rustlin' our cattle. We don't keep our cattle on Beauchamp's property.”

“Is that a fact?” Crowder replied. “How come I'm gettin' reports that somebody's been rustlin' Beauchamp's cattle?”

“I don't know,” Joel answered. “Who reported it?”

“Different folks,” Crowder came back. “Never you mind. The fact of the matter is we didn't start havin' no trouble like that around here until your brother staked a claim on that mountain.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Joel asked.

“It means that maybe you and your brother might be the ones I'd better be watchin', instead of you comin' in here tellin' me somebody's stealin' your cows. That feller you killed, how the hell do I know you didn't just murder some drifter that came on your land by mistake?”

Joel's patience was already wearing thin, and he could already see that Boone had been right when he said it was a waste of time reporting to the sheriff. “'Cause I wouldn't be stupid enough to come in and tell you I murdered a man. Maybe you oughta come out and take a look at him. If he's one of Beauchamp's men, there's a good chance you might recognize him. While you're at it, why don't you check the doctor's office, if you've got a doctor in this town? Might be he's treated a man for gunshot wounds.”

Crowder was only getting more and more confounded. He knew what Beauchamp had told him, and he didn't want to hear anything that would make him doubt it. He had made no mention of losing a man, and Crowder was pretty sure Doc Murphy hadn't treated any gunshot patients recently. Doc would have told him if that had been the case. McAllister was a troublemaker. That much he had been convinced of, and the sheriff owed Beauchamp too much to question his word. Now he wasn't sure if he should take some kind of action while one of the troublemakers was standing in his office.

“I'm thinkin' it might be a good idea to lock you up till I find out the straight of things,” he finally said.

Joel's expression turned stone cold. “That would be a mistake to even try,” he said evenly. “Of all the things possible to happen here today, that ain't one of 'em. I reckon I found out you wouldn't do anything about the cattle rustlin'. That was my mistake, but it's the only one I'm plannin' to make, so I'm fixin' to walk outta here now and leave you to go back to drinkin' your coffee.”

Crowder started to get up from his chair but thought better of it when the move caused Joel to swing his carbine up to grasp it with both hands, cocking it as he did.

“You're ridin' on rocky ground, mister,” Crowder warned. “I'm gonna be keepin' my eye on you and all the rest of that bunch on that mountain.”

“You do that, Sheriff. You might find out what's goin' on outside your little town.”

He backed carefully to the door until he felt the doorknob. Then, never taking his eyes off Crowder, he opened the door and wasted no time climbing into the saddle. Backing the gray, while keeping his eye on the open door, he continued past the general store before wheeling his horse and galloping back to the north end of town. He halfway expected a rifle shot to ring out after him, but the sheriff was still too undecided to act.

•   •   •

When Joel got back to the ranch house, the men had already been fed and were gone, and the dishes were washed and put away. Only Ruthie was in the kitchen when he walked in.

“Elvira said you'd be getting back pretty soon,” she said. “We saved a plate for you. It's warming in the oven. Sit down and I'll get it for you.”

“I 'preciate it, Ruthie,” he responded, then walked over to the coffeepot sitting on the corner of the stove, shook it back and forth to see if there was anything in it, and picked up a cup and filled it. “Where are the women?”

“Out behind the barn,” Ruthie said. “Aunt Elvira is showing Blue Beads how to shoot that Henry your brother gave her.” To confirm it, a shot rang out from that direction, followed after a long pause by another. Joel started at once, but Ruthie laughed and assured him that it was Blue Beads. “She wants to be sure she knows how to shoot the rifle if she has to, and she keeps wanting to put the cartridges down the barrel like she did with that musket.”

The comment caused Joel to chuckle, as he pictured Elvira giving shooting lessons to the Shoshoni woman. “I'm surprised Elvira has the patience to teach anybody,” he said. “But seems like she knows something about everything—more'n a lot of men.” He went to work on the plate of food then.

“Riley said to tell you that he went with your brother to the mine, so you should go on over to the north side and help Red Shirt with the stock,” Ruthie told him.

“Right,” Joel replied. “I'll be leavin' as soon as I finish this fine supper you and the women fixed.”

Ruthie blushed. “I didn't fix much of it. Aunt Elvira and Blue Beads did most of it.”

“Well, it's mighty good,” he said. “You all did a good job.”

He watched the young girl as she poured herself a cup from the pot and sat down at the other end of the table. He hadn't allowed himself much time to think about the child's welfare, so he thought to ask how she was doing. She never mentioned her late family, at least not around him, but he knew that she had taken to Elvira, and he supposed the gregarious woman was taking care of the girl's needs.

“You and Elvira ever talk about what you wanna do,” he asked, “I mean, whether you're gonna try to make it on out to Oregon in the summer?”

“Sometimes we talk about different things we might be able to do,” she replied, then paused to make a face after she took a sip of the coffee. “Ugh,” she grunted. “This coffee is strong enough to take the hair off a porcupine.” He laughed. No doubt her words came directly from Elvira. She continued. “I think Aunt Elvira would just as soon stay right here with you and Riley and Blue Beads, but I'm not sure that's what everybody wants.”

He took a long sip of the strong coffee. The girl was right, it did have a helluva bite. While he sipped, he thought about the commitment he was about to make.
Hell, it's the right thing to do,
he thought, and proceeded.

“Well, let me tell you this, young lady. You and Elvira are welcome to stay with me for as long as you want—for the rest of your life if you want.”

Her face broke out with a wide smile. “I know that's what Aunt Elvira wants.”

“What about you?”

“Me, too,” she said with a delighted giggle. On an impulse then, she jumped up and scurried over to give him a huge hug. “We're like your family, then,” she said.

“I reckon so,” he admitted. When he had time alone to think about it, he would almost become choked up when recalling the young girl's delight. He wasn't sure what Boone and Riley might think of his generous offer to take on the woman and girl. Maybe he should have asked them first, but he figured they weren't likely to want to set the two of them off on their own.

“I guess I'd better get my horse and head out for the north side of the mountain before it gets any later. I wanna see Boone before I head up to the pasture. If I show up there after dark, Red Shirt might think I'm a rustler and shoot me.”

•   •   •

Boone took another look at the clouds that were almost sitting on the tops of the mountains. They looked even more like snow clouds, and he felt sure they couldn't hold their heavy load for much longer. The afternoon light was already fading by the time he reached the mine. Having watched his brother's approach up the trail, Boone came out from the large boulder he and Riley had taken cover behind.

“How'd it go with the sheriff?” he asked when Joel rode up to them.

“Pretty much like you said it would,” Joel answered. “I tried to get him to come out and take a look at that rustler we shot to see if he recognized him. He wasn't interested. In fact, he acted like he wanted to arrest me. Beauchamp told him we were rustlin'
his
cattle.”

“I figured that would be the way of it,” Boone said. “The son of a bitch has got the whole town by the testicles. Even folks like Toby Bryan and Jake Tully believe what he tells 'em. They know better, but they're too damn scared of him not to believe him. That goes for the bank, the hotel, and Marvin Thompson, who owns the general store.” He paused to look up at the sky when the first snowflakes suddenly began to fall softly on the brim of his hat. “Looks like we might get more than a couple of flurries outta this one,” he said.

“Looks like it,” Joel agreed. “I expect I'd best get on over to Red Shirt before we get enough snow to leave tracks.” He looked at Riley then and joked, “How come you're teamin' up with Boone tonight? Wouldn't Red Shirt let you get a word in edgewise?” He grinned at Boone then and said what they all knew to be true. “Riley talks all the time, but he needs somebody to answer once in a while. Red Shirt doesn't do anything but shrug his shoulders. Ain't that right, Riley?”

“Huh,” Riley grunted. “I just figured it wasn't fair to deprive Boone of some of the knowledge I've been collectin' all my life—things he ain't likely to learn from young fellers like you.”

“I'm glad we came out from behind that rock,” Boone said. “The horse shit's likely to get too deep to stand in if you two keep talkin'.”

“All right,” Joel said with a chuckle. “I'll get along over to my post. Red Shirt's probably gettin' lonely over there by himself.”

He nudged the gray with a touch of his heels and was off, leaving them to take up their position behind the boulder again.

•   •   •

As he had speculated, a steady snowfall continued on into the night, causing Joel and Red Shirt to drape a large deer hide over the pine branches that served as their lookout post.

“I'd be surprised if we get any visitors tonight,” Joel commented as the snow began to accumulate to form a blanket.

It was a dry snow and the horses and cattle were still content to graze in the meadow, showing no signs of seeking shelter in the stand of pine trees at the lower end of the meadow. Along about midnight, the snow stopped, leaving a blanket about four inches thick to cloak the mountainside. An hour later, they heard the first shots.

“Oh, hell!” Joel uttered, immediately alarmed because the initial shots soon became a volley, and he knew Riley and Boone were under attack from more than the usual two or three men.