Incident on the Chisholm Trail

Chapter 9

     It was tolerably obvious to sheriff Fuller as he set off for the ‘Barred Os’ that he might need to ditch Carson and his payoffs, but wished first to assure himself that there was no way of salvaging the situation. In the meantime, the last thing he needed was that youth roaming around town shooting his mouth off about the Lord alone knew what.

     Circumstances were combining, quite by chance, to bring matters to a bloody climax. Two hours before Dan Lewis had walked into Fuller’s office in Oxbow, a party of twenty men started out from the ‘Triple C’. They were led by Ezekiel Carmichael’s nephew Jethro and their intended destination was Dave Carson’s place which, at the smart pace they were travelling, they had hopes of reaching before nightfall. On the way, Jethro Carmichael was anxious to overtake his Uncle Ezekiel in order to take counsel with him.

     When Gerry Fuller rode into the ‘Barred Os’, he could see at once that everybody there was in a state of high readiness. He had been hailed twice as he approached the place, by men whom he took to be sentries – posted, he assumed, to keep a watch for strangers. This was not at all the usual way of things. So it was that before he’d even spoken with Carson that day, the sheriff had received all the confirmation that he himself required of Dan Lewis’s story. It was plain as the nose on your face that trouble was expected at the ‘Barred Os’. He observed that Carson himself, contrary to his usual custom, also had a gun at his hip.

      ‘Gerry,’ said Dave Carson, ‘What brings you up here?’ There was an edge to the question. Fuller had picked up his money just the week before and since this was the only dealing that the two men ever had, Carson was probably hinting that the sheriff needn’t come more frequently for his hush money.

     ‘Just passing through,’ replied Fuller, adding in a lower voice, ‘Any chance of a few words alone?’

     ‘I’m kind of busy right now. Can it wait until another day or is it important?’

     ‘I’d say it’s pretty important, yeah.’

     ‘All right, come on into the house,’ said Carson with an ill grace, ‘I hope this won’t take long.’

     When they were alone in Carson’s study, sheriff Fuller thought that a little plain speaking might be in order. ‘First off,’ he said, ‘Is where I don’t take kindly to you treating me like some tradesman who’s making a nuisance of himself. You can drop that game as soon as you please.’

     ‘What’s this all about?’

     ‘Word is, you’re in trouble. I’m hearing that your little outfit is about to fall to pieces.’

     ‘The hell you have? Where’d you hear such a pack of lies?’

    ‘Never you  mind. I got my sources. Why don’t we stop foolin’ and talk straight. First time I ever see you heeled. You’re expectin’ a fight, ain’t that the way of it?’

     Carson didn’t reply, but stared moodily out the window. Then he turned back and faced Gerry Fuller squarely. ‘You say you want some plain speaking,’ he said, ‘Well, try this for size. If I go down, I’ll take you with me. Others here know you been on the take these eighteen months. Strikes me as you have a powerful strong motive for helping me out now.’

     Fuller’s eyes narrowed and he shot the owner of the ‘Barred Os’ an evil look. ‘Oh, it’s like that is it?’

     ‘Yes, that’s what it’s like. You help me out now and I don’t say that we can’t come to a new arrangement. Maybe more money for you. But I need you on my side this day, else we’re both finished.’

     ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ said Fuller and took his leave without bidding the other man farewell.

***

     ‘That looks like a drive ahead of us,’ said Jethro Carmichael, ‘Please God it’s my uncle.’ He was talking to a man from the ‘Triple C’: the closest thing that Carmichael had to a friend. Jethro Carmichael was a moody man of uncertain temper and lacked his uncle’s ability to get on effortlessly with all classes and types of men. All his life he’d lived in his Uncle Ezekiel’s shadow and never took a step without consulting the old man.

     The troop of riders had been on the road since dawn and had progressed at a canter for much of the time; the men vying with each other to see who could be in the lead for the longest period. They most of them knew that there was likely to be some gunplay before night fell, but they were young and keen to display their bravado before their fellows.

     ‘You know anything about this ‘Barred Os’ place?’ asked Jethro of the man at his side.

    ‘Not a damned thing. All I know is it lies nigh to Oxbow, little town off the trail aways.’

    ‘I hope my uncle has some more facts than that. He seemed sure in that letter that this Carson is at the back of all the rustling hereabouts. Lord knows how he found that out while herding steers along the trail.’ There was a hint of bitterness in this statement; this being just precisely the kind of information that Ezekiel Carmichael would be liable to pick up. Even out in the wild and following the Chisholm Trail, his uncle still somehow managed to keep his finger on the pulse and keep a track of what was going on between south Texas and the cow towns of Kansas.

      As Jethro Carmichael and his men continued, it became apparent that the cloud of dust reaching up to the sky was indeed a cattle drive. When they overtook it, they found that it was the one which had recently set off from the ‘Three Cs’. Almost the first person they saw was old man Carmichael, shouting and swearing like the youngest and most vigorous of the cowboys. Ezekiel Carmichael’s boast was that he never asked any man to do a single thing that he was not ready, willing and able to do his own self; on expeditions such as this present one, he made good his words.

    Jethro watched his uncle enviously. There never was such a man for being able to command the respect of others. How he did it was a complete mystery to his nephew. When Ezekiel caught sight of the men, he hailed them boisterously, crying out, ‘Don’t just sit there like you’re a bunch of shop-window dummies! Come on and lend a hand rounding up these damned animals.’

     When everybody was covered in dust and had been sworn at and cursed by Ezekiel for being a set of lazy weaklings, he called over his nephew. ‘Well boy, you ready for some lively action?’

     ‘I’m not too sure what’s what…’ began Jethro, before the old man cut in with the greatest irascibility.

     ‘Not sure? What the devil is there to be sure about, I’d like to know? It’s all straightforward as can be. This fellow Carson has been preying on us and others for several years now. I may as well tell you, we engaged Pinkerton’s to look into it some little while since.’

     ‘Pinkerton’s? Why didn’t you tell me?’

     Ezekiel shrugged. ‘Fewer people know about things, the less chance of somebody talking out o’ turn. Anyways, I ain’t yet got their report, but my information’s sound enough. We ride down on that Carson’s place, the ‘Barred Os’, tonight and then if we can find anything don’t look right, why I’ll see him hanged.’

     Jethro was appalled. ‘Lord a mercy uncle, you can’t do that! What are you thinking of?’

     ‘Who says I can’t?’ demanded the old man pugnaciously, ‘That’s the law o’ the range. I’ll warrant Carson knows that as well as I do. I’m telling you once for all, I won’t be put upon. If this man’s been behind all them stock thefts, then I’ll have his life.’

     ‘Anyways,’ continued Ezekiel Carmichael, ‘I ain’t about to ask you to do the job. I’m a comin’ along, you know.’

     ‘It’s not to be thought of, uncle Ezekiel. Let me notify the sheriff in the nearest town. Let’s do this legal. Please!’

     But Jethro knew his uncle well enough to see that his mind was made up. For good or ill, the old man was utterly determined to settle this affair in his own way and by his own rules. The only problem was that Ezekiel Carmichael followed the old frontier code and this would not always answer now in the modern world. Launching what was, to all intents and purposes, an armed raid like this could have serious consequences for them all. Still, his uncle was not a man to be gainsaid and if he said he’d do a thing, then by God he’d do it, or die in the attempt.

***

     It was lonely and dull in the little cell and Dan Lewis thought he’d go clean out of his mind if he had to stay there much longer. In the story-books which Dan had read, mainly trashy dime novels, men locked up in cells always seemed to pace up and down restlessly. There was barely room enough here though to stand up and step to the zinc bucket which had been provided for his bodily needs. He was certainly unable to take more than one pace before reaching either the wall or the iron bars which stretched from ceiling to floor. He’d no idea what time it was now, but guessed from the height of the sun outside the tiny barred window, that it couldn’t be far off noon.

     When he heard the key turning in the door leading to the street, Dan couldn’t help calling out; hoping that his imprisonment was about to end. ‘All right,’ said sheriff Fuller, ‘Just hold your horses there. We got all the time in the world.’ He went over to the stove and fiddled around there for a spell, before setting a coffee pot on top. Then he came over to the cell and said, ‘I’m not at all sure that I’m doing the right thing, but I feel in a good mood today.’ Then he unlocked the door and indicated that Dan could come out.

     ‘I’m free to go?’

     ‘Not so fast. We need to have a few words together first. Sit down. Happen you’d like some coffee?’

     ‘Yes, please.’

     Fuller prepared two cups of black coffee and then settled down behind his desk. He said, ‘I’ve got my doubts about you, but all things considered, I’m minded to release you. On condition that is, as you leave Oxbow and head straight back to your own town. Indian Falls, wasn’t it?’

     ‘That’s right. But what about the rustling?’

     ‘That ain’t your affair. You get yourself home and be thankful as nobody sees fit to charge you.’

     ‘Charge me? What with?’ asked Dan indignantly.

     ‘Rustling. Now I’m going to give you back your gun, your horse is still outside and you can just dig up and head south. What d’you say?’

     It was perfectly clear to Dan Lewis that there was something about this that wasn’t open and above board. Was this shifty-looking individual part of the racket that was being run up at the ‘Barred Os’? One thing was for sure, this man was not playing straight with him which was a shocking thought to a young man who had always had the healthiest respect for the law. He said, ‘That’s right kind of you, sir. I’ll go straight home, you can depend on it.’

     In point of fact, Gerry Fuller didn’t really want the boy to go home at all. He was right ticked off with Carson and hadn’t taken to being threatened in that way with exposure. As far as he was able to apprehend, Carson was anticipating some species of assault on his place and was readying himself for a regular siege. That was all well and good; the sheriff hoped devoutly that a band of marauders descended on the ‘Barred Os’ and killed every mother’s son to be found there. At the very least, the sooner that Dave Carson ceased to breathe, the happier that he, Fuller, would be. He had more or less resigned himself to receiving no further payoffs, which was a pity. Still, there were worse things than having to depend exclusively upon his salary from the post of sheriff. Not having even that salary, for instance, would be the devil of a thing.

     The way sheriff Fuller had the case reasoned out, the more men there were gunning for Dave Carson, the better the chances of his being killed and nobody ever finding out about the cosy little arrangement that the two of them had enjoyed. This young fellow didn’t look like he’s be any great shakes with a gun, but he had a grudge against Carson and whatever he promised now, he was sure to go haring off up to the ‘Barred Os’ just as soon as Fuller turned him loose.

      ‘Well boy,’ said Fuller, ‘Have we got us a deal?’

      ‘Surely,’ said Dan, ‘I’m going to mount up and ride back home at once.’

     For a moment, sheriff Fuller was tempted to laugh out loud. Here the two of them were, both lying their heads off and neither one of them meaning a damned word that he said and both determined to put one over the other. In the event, he restrained himself and said simply, ‘All right, get on out of here and don’t let me catch a sight of you again.’

***

     Although he was often short with the man and frequently berated him for falling down on the job, Dave Carson had never felt the need for Fats’ help so keenly as he did that day. Not only that, he could really have done with the other nine men who had ridden off with his foreman. God knew what had become of those ten men; it was as if they had vanished from the face of the earth.

     There were twelve men living and working at the ‘Barred Os’, but only nine of them could be relied upon if things got ugly. The other three were weaklings who, in Carson’s estimation, would be no use in any sort of rough house. He was handy enough with a rifle himself and so that gave them ten guns with which to defend the place. The advantage always lay with the defenders in such situations and so Dave Carson was reasonably confident that he would be able to fight off some cowboy lynch mob. Provided of course that sheriff Fuller didn’t involve himself by deputizing a bunch of men from Oxbow and turning up here on his own account. Carson was under no illusions at all on this subject; there was going to be a reckoning between him and Fuller and that sooner rather than later. For now though, he needed to organize the defence of his property against the men who, if the the man who had lately been here had been telling the truth, were even now riding towards him.

     ‘You two men,’ Carson called across the yard, ‘You want to fall foul of this lynch mob alone? Otherwise, get rifles and go and join the men over at the main gate. We don’t stand together, we’ll all hang together.’

     ‘Yes, boss,’ mumbled the men, with no great show of enthusiasm, and went off to arm themselves. They were two of the three that Carson hadn’t thought he could rely upon and he was pleased to see that they did not look to be leaving, but preferred to take their chances with the rest of them. Depending upon the size of the gang heading that way, this was like to be a close-run thing and every extra gun was welcome and could tilt the matter in their favour.

     Three men had been posted up on the high ground to the west of the ‘Barred Os’. There was no doubt that any trouble was going to be coming from the south, but as a precaution, Carson had set another man to watch the road to Oxbow. He didn’t trust Gerry Fuller one little bit and now that they’d had sharp words, Carson wanted to be sure that he would see any group of riders starting towards them from town.

     As far as the owner of the ‘Barred Os’ could make out, they should be in a good position to see off up to twenty or thirty attackers. After all, they were forewarned and forearmed; not to mention where they knew the terrain a sight better than those seeking to do them harm. Despite the danger, Carson felt quite buoyed up and optimistic. This wasn’t, after all, the first bit of danger that they had encountered while running this show. He’d have to patch things up with the sheriff of Oxbow after this was all over, maybe raise his share of the profits a little, but that apart, Dave Carson was confident enough. To the outside world, even in Oxbow, it would all look like some squabble between two cattle outfits. Who would be able to say who was in the right and which was the villain of the piece?

***

     Jethro Carmichael was in despair. He knew, had known for almost the whole of his life, that his Uncle Ezekiel was stubborn as an ox, but this was something else again. He tried once more to make the old man see sense.

     ‘Uncle, it isn’t to be thought of! Why don’t you go along now with those steers and I promise to handle this for you.’

     ‘Handle it?’ asked his uncle, scornfully, ‘You mean you’ll be kissing and making up with that bastard and asking him to pledge his word not to take any more of our cattle. No, this needs a sharp lesson and I’m the man to deliver it.’

      ‘You could end up on the wrong side of the law,’ pointed out Jethro, ‘It’s just not worth the risk at your age.’

     ‘At my age?’ said Ezekiel Carmichael, raising his head like a rattler about to strike, ‘At my age? My age be damned to you. I said I’ll lead this foray and by God that’s just what I mean to do.’

     The sun had only lately set and the two of them were standing apart from the others. Jethro was speaking a low and confidential tone of voice, but his uncle, who got deafer every year, was practically bellowing his defiance. There was no point in aggravating the old man further and so his nephew said, ‘Well, you have it your own way.’

     ‘You’re damned right I will!’

     After riding south for a mile or so, until he was out of sight of the town, Dan Lewis headed to his left and then circled round Oxbow in the direction that he guessed led to the ‘Barred Os’. He didn’t know himself just what he would do when he got there, but he wasn’t about to let this end in such a vague and inconclusive fashion with the slur of having been detected in the act of rustling still hanging over his head.

The last few days had been an education for the young man. He had almost been hanged, killed his first man and then been locked up in a cell as well. A grown man might have found this dizzying succession of new experiences alarming and disconcerting; but when you are young, you often just take such things in your stride. Dan supposed that at some stage, he would need to sit down and think all this over carefully, but for now he was only keen to clear his name. Fretting about having killed men could wait until he got back to Indian Falls.

     While he was musing in this way, Dan didn’t notice the man perched on a rock, away over to his left. The first he knew was that somebody shouted to him, ‘Where are you going?’

     ‘Nowhere especial,’ replied Dan, not being minded to discuss his affairs with a complete stranger, ‘Why’re you askin’?’

     ‘I’m watching out for any strangers heading this way. Meaning such as might be looking for trouble.’

     ‘Well I sure ain’t looking for any trouble,’ said Dan pleasantly, ‘Who set you to stand guard?’

     The man stood up and came down the slope, so that he could talk with Dan at a normal, conversational level. He said, ‘Fellow called Carson. I picked up with his boys a week ago, but seems he’s running into difficulties. As between the two of us, I ain’t all that sure as I’m a going to be stickin’ around much longer.’

     ‘That so?’

     ‘Yes, siree. Say, you headin’ up to the ‘Barred Os’?’

     ‘”The Barred Os”?’ Dan assumed a mystified expression, ‘What’s that?’

     ‘Did I not say? That’s the spread I’m working for.’

     ‘No, I don’t reckon as I’m heading that way. I’m aiming to cut across the Chisholm Trail. I’m on the right path for that, ain’t I?’

     ‘That you are. Just keep going straight. You might want to cut along to the left a mite. There’s another fellow setting watch and he might not ask you first what your business is.’

     ‘Thanks for the tip. Well, I hope it all goes well for you.’

     ‘Thanks, stranger. You take care now.’