Silver City Massacre (25 page)

With the butcher knife still protruding from his stomach, he struggled to get to his feet. He managed to make it to his knees before receiving another blow with the hot skillet, this time leaving him unconscious amid a scattering of half-done potatoes. Unwilling to take any chance that he might survive, Lena reached down with her left hand, her right now throbbing with the severe burn from the handle of the skillet, and pulled the knife from his stomach. Then she opened his throat with it. As an afterthought, she used the knife again to scalp him and, in a vengeful euphoria, sang out a Ute war cry.

The sounds coming from the house left Joel uncertain as to what was going on inside. The scream he had heard had come from a man. Of that, he was certain, but the high-pitched howl that followed sounded as if coming from a woman. Without knowing what he might find confronting him, he opened the door, ready to fire. What he found, he was not expecting. The woman, battered and bloody, stared at him, seeming not to see him. She still held the butcher knife in her hand. He looked from her to the body lying still on the floor. There was no need to ask what had happened.

“I guess I did the job you came to do,” she said when she finally seemed to return to the present.

“I reckon you did,” he replied. “Are you all right?”

Realizing then that she was still holding the knife, she tossed it to land beside Beauchamp's body. “Yes,” she answered with a sigh. “I'm a lot all right now.”

“Looks like you took a pretty good whippin'. Maybe I can help you clean your face up a little.”

“First thing I wanna do is put some lard on my hand,” she said. “It burns like hell, but I didn't have time to grab a cloth.”

“I'll help you. Just tell me where you keep it,” he offered. It was an odd time to think of it, but her remark caused him to recall when a young Shoshoni girl warned him about picking up a hot metal cup of coffee before it cooled.

“Have you got a place to go?” he asked her as he cleaned the blood from her face, after having wrapped her burned hand. “I don't know if it's a good idea for you to stay here, 'cause the law's bound to show up here sooner or later.”

“No, I don't have any place to go,” she said, “but it doesn't matter. I'll make out on my own.”

“I think it would be best if you came with me. I'll take you someplace safe while this all blows over.”

“All right,” she said, without asking where. Anywhere away from this place of long suffering was all right with her, and she sensed that she would be safe with him.

•   •   •

The glimpse of the Indian woman lying on the floor in Beauchamp's kitchen had continued to work on Toby Bryan's conscience after he returned to town. He intended to take his responsibility as sheriff seriously, even though he was only temporarily in the position. She was only an Indian, but Toby couldn't help feeling guilty about not going inside the kitchen to see what was going on. So the next morning, he went by the post office to let Jonah Newberry know he was going to take a ride out to Blackjack Mountain to see if there was any sign of Joel McAllister. As he approached the barnyard of Ronald Beauchamp's ranch, he saw no evidence of anyone stirring. In the smaller corral behind the barn, the milk cow stood waiting to be milked and a few beef cattle had strayed into the yard. He saw no smoke coming from the chimney at the house. The whole place seemed to still be asleep.

He pulled up to the front porch, dismounted, and knocked on the porch floor, then stood waiting, but there was no response from inside. He stepped up on the porch then and went to the front door. After knocking several times hard enough for anyone inside to hear, he tried the door and found it unbarred, so he went inside. Standing just inside the door, he called out to see if anyone was there. There was no response to his call, so he walked cautiously down the hall to the kitchen, and was stopped cold by the sight of the body lying near the stove.

Beauchamp!
The discovery stunned him. McAllister had gotten to him after all. Beauchamp had not been lying when he said his life was in danger.

Feeling a sudden need for fresh air, Toby walked to the back door and opened it. His hand dropped immediately to the handle of the .44 Colt he wore when he saw a rider coming across the barnyard toward the house. He backed away from the door so he wouldn't be seen—just a couple of steps so that he could continue to watch the rider. A little closer and he recognized the man. It wasn't McAllister, it was Fuzzy Chapman, Beauchamp's bunkhouse cook. Toby backed away from the door.

Fuzzy stepped up to the door and knocked on the jamb. When there was no response, he called out, “Lena, you in there? It's me, Fuzzy.”

Toby stepped forward then. “Step inside, Fuzzy. Lena ain't here.”

Surprised, Fuzzy nevertheless did as he was told. “I was wonderin' whose horse that was out front,” he said when he saw Toby. He was about to say more, but he saw the body and drew back in shock. “Where's Lena?”

“She's gone,” Toby said. “I thought you were gone, too.”

“I was,” Fuzzy said. “But I got to thinkin' about how I shouldn'ta run off and left that poor woman to deal with that bastard, so I turned around and came back to help her.” He walked over to take a closer look at the corpse. “He don't look no sweeter dead than he did alive, does he?” He backed up a step then and straightened. “So she finally done it.” He looked up at a still-puzzled sheriff and chuckled. “Laid him out among the taters, didn't she? I swear, she finally done it. Looks like she drove that knife plumb through him. Good for her! I'da done the same thing, as long as that son of a bitch beat on that poor woman.” He looked up from the corpse. “You say she's gone? Wonder where. What are you doin' out here, Toby?”

“I'm the new sheriff,” Toby, said, and pulled his coat aside to show his badge. “We let Jim Crowder go. Beauchamp thought Joel McAllister was out to kill him, and wanted me to look into it.”

“Ha!” Fuzzy snorted. “It's the other way around, don't you mean? Beauchamp's been tryin' to kill McAllister ever since he showed up here. Only trouble is, Joel McAllister was more bear than any of those no-good gunslingers Beauchamp kept sendin' up on that mountain to kill him.”

Toby was dumbstruck for a few moments by Fuzzy's accusations. “Do you know what you're talkin' about? You tellin' me that McAllister wasn't doin' the rustlin' and killin'—it was the other way around?”

“That's the God's honest truth about it. Beauchamp was out to get McAllister's claim, and he didn't care how he got it done. I shoulda told somebody about it before, but there weren't nobody to tell but Jim Crowder, and that woulda been the same as tellin' Beauchamp himself.”

“Why the hell didn't you go tell Jonah Newberry, or Marvin Thompson, or me?” Toby asked.

“Scared,” Fuzzy replied. “My life wouldn'ta been worth spit. He'da had Mike Strong kill me in a second.”

“Ronald Beauchamp,” Toby pronounced, still astonished at this unexpected turn of events. “It's hard to believe he could do what you're sayin'.”

“Well, ain't it kinda funny that there ain't been nobody killed anywhere on Beauchamp's property? If you go lookin' for bodies, they're all on McAllister property, includin' Boone McAllister and his woman, and the woman and child that came with his brother. I swear, I can't paint you no clearer picture than that.”

“It's hard to argue with that,” Toby confessed. “I guess I'll go on back to town and give the council the news. They're gonna find it as hard to believe as I did. I don't know if there's anything anybody will wanna do about it—don't know if there's anything we can do about it.” He felt he should do something, but he didn't know what. “I reckon we oughta bury Beauchamp. What are you gonna do now? You stayin' here for a while?”

“Might as well,” Fuzzy said. “Ain't got no place else to go.”

“I need to get on back to town. How 'bout you buryin' him? Would you mind?”

“It'd give me great pleasure,” Fuzzy replied grandly.

Red Shirt was sitting in his tipi when he heard some young boys shouting Joel's name. “Jo,” they called out, having shortened it. “Jo is back!” they alerted the village. Red Shirt put aside the pipe he had been making and hurried outside to greet his friend. He was surprised to see a woman following him on a second horse. Eager to hear the story, he ran to the center of the circle of lodges to meet him. When he got there, he saw that Walking Eagle and Crooked Arrow, along with many others, had come to greet Joel as well. They stood waiting while the horses walked up from the stream. As they came closer, there arose gentle murmurings among the gathering when they saw the bruised and battered face of the woman.

Walking Eagle was the first to speak. “I see the white warrior has returned,” he said in an uncertain tone. “Were you successful on the warpath?”

“You might say that,” Joel replied as he stepped down from the saddle. “But you don't have to worry about the soldiers coming to your village. The man, Beauchamp, is dead, but not by my hand.”

“Ah,” Walking Eagle responded. “That is good news. The white man's law is not looking for you, then?”

“They've got no reason to look for me,” Joel said.

Walking Eagle looked relieved. “Then welcome back, my friend.”

“Yeah, welcome,” Red Shirt said then, having politely held his tongue to let the chief speak first. “Tell us what happened. Who this woman?” He nodded toward Lena, who was still seated on Boss Beauchamp's black Morgan gelding, hesitating to dismount before she was sure she was welcome.

“Lena Three Toe,” Joel said. “I told her she would be welcome in Walking Eagle's village. She's had a hard time of it, and had no place to go, so I brought her here.”

Yellow Moon stepped forward then and offered her hand to help Lena down. “Welcome,” she said. “You must be tired and hungry. Come and we will prepare food for you.”

Lena looked at Joel, as if asking if it was all right. “Go along with Yellow Moon,” he said. “I'll take care of your horse.”

Red Shirt stepped forward to help him pull the saddles off the two horses and carry them, along with a canvas bag filled with some clothes and personal items that belonged to Lena, to his tipi. They turned the horses out with the Indian herd, leaving their bridles on to identify them quicker, no longer feeling the precaution to tie them up next to the tipi.

“I'm hopin' one of the women will take Lena in,” Joel told Red Shirt as they led the horses out to the meadow where the Shoshoni horses were grazing.

“Already done,” Red Shirt said, “when Yellow Moon take her. You tell me now what happened.”

Joel related all that had taken place since he rode off to kill Beauchamp, and why the Ute woman came to be with him. “I've been thinkin' a lot on the ride over here, and I've been makin' some plans on what I'm gonna do now that we don't have to worry about Beauchamp and his gang of killers. I'm gonna build another house on that piece of land Boone filed on. I'm plannin' on raisin' some cattle and horses on that mountain, and open that mine up again. I was kinda hopin' you'd help me do it.”

Red Shirt started to shrug but stopped and grinned instead. “I help.”

“It's a deal, then,” Joel said, and offered his hand. Red Shirt took it and pumped it up and down in an exaggerated handshake, causing Joel to remark, “That oughta make it official. There's one more thing I've gotta do before we get started. I'm goin' into Silver City and have a talk with the sheriff and that city council to make sure they all know that's my land and I intend to keep it. I'd like to convince all of 'em that I'm peaceful and plan to do business with 'em.”

“I go with you this time,” Red Shirt said. “I not sure you come back last time.”

Joel laughed and said, “All right, if you want to. We'll go in the mornin'. Ain't no use in losin' any more time. We've got a lot of work to do if we're gonna make a goin' operation outta that place.”

•   •   •

Before leaving the next morning, Joel told Lena why they were going and that if all went well, they should be back in two days. She should know by then if there was a place for her in the Shoshoni village, but if there was not, she would be welcome to go with him and Red Shirt. She seemed at ease with the situation, so they saddled up and rode out.

As they crossed over the stream, Joel saw White Fawn standing alone a few dozen yards upstream watching them. He touched his finger to his hat as a salute, but she turned and walked away without responding, leaving him at a loss as to what he had done to cause her icy reaction to him. It was just going to keep her on his mind that much longer.

•   •   •

Since Silver City was too far from the Shoshoni village to get there before nightfall, they camped that night in the barn on Joel's property. He figured the business he had in mind would be better conducted in daylight. They rode into the north end of town a little before noon, walking their horses slowly up the middle of the street until reaching the Miner's Rest and the sheriff's office across from it. Everyone they passed along the way stopped to gape at the pair, causing Joel to wonder if maybe he might be riding into an enemy camp. It was too late to reconsider now, so he pulled the Henry from his saddle scabbard just in case when he dismounted. His last meeting with Jim Crowder had not ended well.

Toby Bryan looked up from his desk when the door opened to find it filled with the formidable figure of Joel McAllister. His initial reaction was to hope everything Fuzzy Chapman had told him was true, because the expression on Joel's face was not friendly.

“McAllister,” Toby said.

“Blacksmith,” Joel returned, surprised to find him in the sheriff's office. “Are you the sheriff now?”

“I am,” he said. “Toby Bryan's my name.” He guessed that Joel had forgotten it. “What can I do for you?”

That explained why he had been riding with Beauchamp on the trail to Blackjack Mountain. “I've had some trouble up at my and my brother's place, and I wanna make sure you and the folks here in town know that I'm a peaceable man. As far as I'm concerned, the war between my land and Beauchamp's is over, and I didn't start it in the first place.”

The sheriff smiled and got up from his chair. He extended his hand, and said, “I'm glad you came in. I think we know the real story behind that war you had. Fuzzy Chapman told us the whole thing. Beauchamp had us all fooled for a long time.” Joel shook his hand and Toby went on. “We'll welcome you to our community.” He paused, then continued. “Say, I thought I got a glimpse of the woman who cooked for him lyin' on the kitchen floor, but she wasn't at the house when I went back the next mornin'. You know anything about her?”

“Maybe,” Joel replied, hesitant to say too much in case they were looking to hang Lena for the killing.

“I was just wonderin' if she was all right. I know she's the one who killed Beauchamp, but I know that it was self-defense. She ain't in no trouble.”

Joel nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I can tell you that she got beat up pretty bad, but she's gonna be all right. Can't say where she's goin', just that she's gone.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Toby, and Joel decided it best to be cautious, just in case. They stood there for a few moments of awkward silence, neither man sure if there was anything more to say.

“Well, I reckon I'll be on my way, then,” Joel finally said. “Are you still shoein' horses?”

Toby chuckled. “Yeah, I'm just sheriffin' till we find somebody wantin' the job permanent. You wouldn't be interested in the job, would you?” The idea seemed like a good one to Toby.

“I ain't gonna have the time,” Joel answered as he went out the door, where Red Shirt stood holding the horses.

•   •   •

After camping overnight in the barn at the ranch, they splashed across the stream by the Shoshoni village late the next morning.

“I got something I've gotta do,” Joel told Red Shirt. “You go on in. I'll be there in a while.”

He wheeled the gray then before Red Shirt could question him, and loped into the meadow where the horses were grazing. Red Shirt shrugged and continued on into the village. He had learned to like coffee as much as his partner, and he was ready for a cup then.

He had just gotten a fire going and was about to go to the stream to fill the pot when he heard the sound of high-pitched yelps coming from many of the people in the village. He looked back to see Joel riding into camp leading seven horses on a line behind him. Astonished, he ran back to the circle of lodges in time to see Joel pull up in front of Walking Eagle's tipi, dismount, tie the lead end of the rope to a stake in the ground, then climb back onto the gray and ride away, leaving the seven horses behind.

Red Shirt threw his head back and laughed. “He listen when I tell him he need wife.”

A small crowd gathered a short distance from the chief's tipi in hopes of seeing Walking Eagle's reaction to the proposal. It was not uncommon for a father to let the gifts remain outside his lodge for a long time, even overnight while he considered the offer, while an anxious suitor waited and watched to see if the horses were taken away. In the event they were, he knew that his marriage proposal had been accepted, and he was spared the embarrassment of having to go to retrieve the horses himself.

From Red Shirt's tipi, Joel could just see the horses outside Walking Eagle's lodge, so he sat with a grinning Red Shirt, drinking the coffee he had made, only getting up once in a while to see if the horses were gone. His answer was short in coming, for he saw Walking Eagle come out of the tipi and look the horses over. As Joel watched, Yellow Moon came out then, and the two talked for a while, before White Fawn came out, marched over to the stake, and untied the rope. Then, in what looked to be no uncertain terms, she handed the rope to her father and pointed toward the pony herd in the meadow. Walking Eagle dutifully led his new horses away to the cheering of the people gathered close by.

Unaware that Red Shirt had come out behind him, Joel was startled when the Bannock warrior suddenly slapped him on the back.

“You not free man no more. We make big family now.”

“Maybe so,” Joel allowed. “I ain't been able to get her out of my mind, so I might as well have her in my tipi.”

•   •   •

Feeling the need to splash some cold water on his face, Joel knelt by the stream in the same spot she had come to talk to him before he went after Strong and Zach. He knew what he had done was rash, and he wondered if he would live to regret it. In the last few weeks, it seemed that he had never had time to think about anything but killing and keeping from being killed. But the few moments that he had thought about her were troubling to him. There was so little that he knew about the girl, other than the fact she was impulsive and strong-willed.

“Joel.” He heard her call his name.

The sound of it was soft and lilting. He turned to find her standing there. When he turned, she came into his arms, and he knew at that moment all he needed to know.