The Cassidy Posse (17 page)

Butch dismounted about forty yards from the stand of pines and proceeded cautiously on foot. He did not know what had provoked the deer to take flight. They were at a distance that a deer would normally just hold its cover. Something else must have spooked it. In case it was a mountain lion, he didn’t want to be shooting at it on horseback. He knew his black mare wasn’t gun-shy, but he was not sure of the buckskin filly he had traded her for. He had not survived as long as he had by taking chances.

As he moved slowly into the trees, he was keeping one eye on the rabbit-like ears of the mule deer. If he could get a quick shot off and just take the hindquarter, he could be back with the posse in less than an hour. He was already second-guessing the wisdom of leaving all those disparaging personalities together for any length of time. Mike was hardheaded, but he was sensible, so Butch hoped that he would keep things from getting out of hand.

When he reached the bank of the river, he saw something that made him forget all about the hunt. It was a pile of fresh horse manure. He crouched down behind a tree for a minute and listened to hear if he had any company before he moved closer to the pile; it was still steaming. Whoever had been here had just left a few minutes ago. The ground was covered with hoof prints and the scuffed markings of a few men. One ominous impression was the butt of a rifle that had been smashed against the ground. The odd thing was the wagon tracks. This wasn’t good country to be off the trail in a wagon.

Butch followed the wagon tracks down to the river where they disappeared into the rapid water. The river was beginning to get some spring melt and crossing it in a wagon had to be treacherous. If they were trying to avoid the posse, they would have just moved downriver without crossing. He looked at the opposite side of the river and saw Jack and Luke leading Mike and Elzy out of the trees that lined the bank and up towards the rock cliffs that rimmed the valley. Butch hunkered down close to the water and stared at the trees on the opposite bank. The river was too noisy to hear anything so he had to rely on his sight. A flock of sage grouse took flight. A few minutes later a group of three men broke out of the trees as they ascended the valley wall. They were making a straight line towards the posse. There were two on horseback and one in a buggy drawn by two horses. He understood the wagon tracks now. Even at this distance, Butch could tell the man in the buggy was too big for a horse to carry him. His concern now was that they had seen him break away from the posse and had a man stationed with a rifle waiting for him to cross the river.

Ever cautious, Butch went back to his horse and backtracked a couple hundred yards before crossing the Sweetwater. As he came up the opposite bank, he dismounted and hid in the pine trees growing near the water. The mysterious trio was heading directly for the twenty-foot wide break in the cliffs that Jack had just lead the posse through. Who were these guys? They didn’t appear to be locals. They wore those Russian fur hats like the Eastern cattlemen were fond of in the winter. Had they been waiting in ambush for them? Butch thought of the imprint of the rifle butt he had found on the ground. What else? But why? Maybe they were just after him and Elzy. It would be no surprise to anyone if they were on the regulator’s dreaded death list.

Butch pulled his Winchester from its scabbard and contemplated the three as they labored to get the buggy up the rock-strewn draw. They were mighty determined to catch up to the posse but were making slow progress. If Elzy was not too busy running his mouth, he might notice them. That was just an outside chance. He thought of popping off a shot, but three against one were never good odds. Besides, he reasoned, what if it were just a case of mistaken identity.

Butch studied the cliffs that rimmed the valley and spotted another passageway that a man and horse might be able to squeeze through about a quarter mile west of the rock-covered draw. It was in a direct line with the two peaks where Jack said his pass was. If he could make it through, he might be able to cut across the posse’s trail and get to them before the three uninvited visitors.

Jack had led the posse high into the mountains towards his pass between the twin peaks. The trees were becoming few and sparse as they moved into a boulder field that had slid off the side of the mountain. He was surprised when Butch rode out ahead of them from behind a rock that was large enough to conceal both horse and rider.

“Where the hell did you come from?” shouted Jack. “How did you get ahead of me?”

Nice greeting
, thought Butch. The first day was not over and he was already tiring of the arrogant young rancher.

“There was another way through the cliffs in the valley,” Butch said with a smirk. “I looked up and spotted it right off. It was on a straighter line to the twin peaks so I figured I could cut across your trail and pick you up.”

“Well, it must have been awful damn narrow.”

“Naw, it was pretty wide.”

Butch hoped he did not notice his torn shirt or the abrasions on the flank of his buckskin filly. The new passage he had found was no more than a crack in the rocks. He had to pull his horse through it.

Mike, Elzy and Luke had caught up at this point and were also surprised to see him.

“How’d you get out front, Butch?” asked Elzy.

“Found a short cut,” he announced proudly. “It was wide enough to drive a wagon train through.”

“Damn,” declared Luke. “Jack and me should’ve knowed about it.”

Hearing Luke include him in his weak self-admonishment, Jack wheeled his black stallion around and headed up the trail without a word.

“You could drive uh wagon train through it,” said Mike skeptically, reaching over to inspect the bloody flank of the filly. His face broke into an involuntary smile.

Elzy reined in on the other side of Butch. “What’d you say to make that hard-ass smile?” Mike was still in earshot and the smile was quickly gone.

“Never mind that,” Butch said. “Luke, go get your two-gun buddy and bring him back here. We got a problem and I’m tired of chasin’ him.”

“Yessar, Mr. Cassidy.”

Luke rode ahead screaming at Jack to stop until he finally turned around and reluctantly returned to the group.

“Jesus Christ, what now!” shouted Jack when he returned.

“Dun’t be blashfimin’, young man,” Mike warned him. Jack shot him back a defiant look but kept his mouth shut.

“Good,” said Elzy. “I was hoping someone would clean up the language around here.”

“Everybody just shut up and listen to me!” shouted Butch. His uncharacteristic loss of temper shocked them into a momentary silence. “We got company comin’ and I don’t think they’re friendly.” He explained to them the apparent ambush that would have been waiting for them.

“Yuh think they’re part of Red Alvins’ bunch?” asked Mike.

“He might have picked up a rumor about a posse after him,” said Elzy.

“I don’t think they’re with Red,” said Butch. “I was pretty far away though.”

“Then yuh dun’t know thet they’re not with Alvins,” insisted Mike. “Accordin’ tuh Luke’s little brother, there were some that dressed like dudes. He coulda left the three prisoners from Chicago behind tuh ambush us.”

“Don’t put a lot of stock in anythin’ little Lester tells ya,” Luke warned them.

“He would have remembered the big guy in the buggy,” said Butch. “This is a man too big to ride a horse. Red wouldn’t have nobody like that slowing him down.”

“They got to be regulators hired by the big cattlemen,” concluded Jack. “They’re all over the state. I heard there’s over a hundred of them. They must have us mistook for rustlers. If we just explain to them who we are, they aren’t gonna bother us.”

“Well, you can tell them yourself because here they come,” said Butch pointing towards a rise about a mile behind them. “They made good time getting that buggy through the draw.”

“Did anybody bring binoculars?” asked Mike.

“Yep, your nephew Patrick got a pair when we were buyin’ out the General Store in Rock Springs,” said Butch. “Never thought to get them from him before we left.”

“Every time we need some spyglasses, we say we’re going to get some,” complained Elzy, “and we never do.” He squinted in the direction Butch had pointed.

“I don’t see them,” declared Jack.

“I sees ‘em, Mr. Cassidy,” said Luke.

Jack turned and looked at Luke angrily. “I’m the only Mr. Cassidy here and I don’t see them.”

“If Butch says they’re coming, they’re coming,” Elzy said with finality.

“Then let’s keep moving,” said Jack. “They ain’t moving fast enough to catch us.”

“I’d like to relax by a nice warm campfire tonight,” said Elzy, “and that ain’t gonna happen with these three jaspers dogging our trail.”

“Well, it’s Lieutenant McGhan’s call,” said Butch.

“I can see ‘em now,” said Mike. “They got me curiosity up. Let’s find out what they want.” Mike took his Smith and Wesson .38 caliber service revolver out of his holster and broke it open to expose the cylinder. He put in one more bullet to give himself a full load. “I’ll go out and talk to them if you boys can give me some cover with those long guns.”

“If we’re gonna do that,” said Butch, “we might be better off back there where the trail narrows. Those big rocks on both sides will give us cover and they’ll be wide out in the open.”

“Why don’t we just keep moving,” said Jack, “and if and when they catch up to us, we can all talk to them. We’re five guns to their three.”

“Naw, I’m with Butch,” said Elzy. “If he’s got a bad feeling about these guys, I say we go for position on them.”

“Might as well stack the deck in our favor,” said Luke. “Least ‘til we find out what their business is.” Jack shot him another disapproving look as Mike shook his head in agreement.

“Elzy and me will get up on those rocks to the left,” said Butch, pulling his Winchester from its scabbard. “Jack, if you and Luke would set up behind those stubby little pines on the right, we’d have the whole meadow covered.”

Jack responded to the polite request with a surly scowl. Luke, however, moved into action. He dismounted his bony horse and detached the crude buckskin gun sheath from its side. Butch and Elzy, who had moved closer to satisfy their curiosity, were amazed when Luke pulled out the formidable-looking weapon.

“Jez, it’s a damn buffalo gun,” exclaimed Elzy.

“A Sharps,” said Butch. “Is it percussion?”

“Naw, it taint that old,” Luke assured him. “It uses regular cartridges.” He held out a hand full of huge 50 caliber rounds, each almost three inches long.

“Those look like they could knock down a house!”

“You’re sure welcome ta use it, Mr. Cassidy,” Luke said to him with admiration. “I’d be proud to say Butch Cassidy kilt ah man with my grandpa’s gun.”

“Well, thanks for the offer,” said Butch, “but considering the situation, I’d better stick with my Winchester. I know how to handle it. That cannon of yours might take some gettin’ used to.”

“They’re gettin’ close tuh the gap,” said Mike tersely. “I’m ridin’ out tuh meet them. If any ov you gents could cover me, t’would be appreciated.”

They all moved to their designated positions and watched as Lieutenant Michael McGhan rode out onto the meadow to greet the approaching strangers.

Some of Karl Van Dersel’s earliest memories were of fear. His father, a retired army sergeant, would instill it in young Karl on a nightly basis. A huge man with an evil temper, he would beat Karl savagely because he could not lay his hands on the demons that tormented him.

After his wife disappeared, he moved to the Tranvaal region of South Africa to try farming, taking a reluctant Karl with him. Unfortunately for Karl’s new schoolmates, he inherited his father’s enormous size and aggressive disposition. Among the passive country people, he began to understand the bright, shining edge of fear. To have fear made him feel weak and humiliated, but to evoke fear made him feel omnipotent. His dark hair and small eyes, sunk above prominent cheekbones, gave him a villainous look. As he grew larger and larger, he was treated with increased deference as everyone’s fear of him grew. He saw it in the eyes of parents who were afraid he would hurt their precious sons.