The Old West Adventures of Ornery and Slim: The Trail Never Ends

By Montana Kid Hammer

The Trail Never Ends, Montana Kid Hammers third novel in his series, trails Ornery and Slim into another set of high adventures; escapades that grow out of the very frontier that holds them fast. Ornery, a Civil War survivor turned veteran cowhand, and Slim, a young orphan from Philadelphia and a burgeoning cowman in his own right, partner up to ride for the brand handled simply as the O U T (Oh-Ewe-Tee) Spread.

Their third season of cow crafting finds this pair in the company of, or referenced to, such historic old west personages as, Wyatt Earp, Teddy Blue Abbott, Crazy Horse, and Teddy Roosevelt. Ornery, Slim, and the other hands of the outfit experience such calamities as encounters with rustlers, prairie storms, unsavory saloon types, sheep wars, cantankerous US Army personnel, and wonderful womanly wiles that up the ante of their challenges and try both soul and gun hand.

Kids Old West series is intended to rekindle fond recollections of Old West evenings sat around campfires to a passel of never before told bone rattling and hair-raising cowman tales. Offered is a unique opportunity to ride back to those wild and wooly days of Americas western yesteryears.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491816912

Montana Kid Hammer

Montana Kid Hammer, Kid, is a Montana native, author and educator whose abode is nestled in the hills just north of Fairbanks, Alaska. He enjoys horseback riding, snow and water skiing, hunting, history studies, and traveling far flung across the American West. Kid has a family, is a retired military man, and has lived and traveled in the region of which he writes. Schooled at Eastern Montana College, Embry-Riddle Aeronautical Institute, the Community College of the Air Force and the Institute of Children's Literature, he is self-published locally in Fairbanks with an Old West short-story volume, several poetry volumes, and has sent submissions to Cowboy Chronicle of Single Action Shooting Society. Kid is also a nationally recognized novelist by his Ornery and Slim storybook series. He is an NRA Certified Instructor and Life member, a Life member of the Single Action Shooting Society, a Life member of the Golden Heart Shootist Society of Fairbanks, and holds a Colonelcy in the Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels. Kid teaches NRA Firearm Safety courses and the Alaska State Conceal Carry classes, does his Cowboy in the Classroom and US Civil War Living History presentations for folks of all ages as his way of sharing this most marvelous time in American history with peoples of the twenty-first century. He is richly blessed for his doing of such informative topics. Follow Kid’s many exploits at: www.montanakidhammer.com and on Face Book.

Book preview

THE OLD WEST ADVENTURES

OF

ORNERY AND SLIM

THE TRAIL NEVER ENDS

A story by Montana Kid Hammer

Illustrated by Jonathan Harrison

Edited by Miss Lady Caity

44074.jpg

AuthorHouse™ LLC

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2013 by Montana Kid Hammer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/12/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1692-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1690-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1691-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013917021

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Introduction

Author’s Disclaimer

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Chapter 1.   The Shooting of the Yellowstone Kid

Chapter 2.   The Man Remade

Chapter 3.   Slim’s Having of Old Leg Trip

Chapter 4.   Ornery and His Bluecoat Predicament

Chapter 5.   A Top Hand Cowman’s Newfound Lady Friend

Chapter 6.   The New Big Deal In Well Springs

Chapter 7.   Ornery and Slim Meet Janie the Stagecoach Gal

Chapter 8.   Ornery’s Big Surprise

Chapter 9.   A New War Headed For The O U T Spread

Chapter 10. High Adventure in Big Elk Country

Glossary

About the Editor:

About The Illustrator: Mr. Jonathan Harrison

About The Author:

Illustrations

Chapter 1.   Hammers Down

Chapter 2.   Miss Regan’s Farewell

Chapter 3.   Slim Crowns Leg

Chapter 4.   The Slim Saving Grab

Chapter 5.   Supper With His Lady

Chapter 6.   The Big Deal Arrives

Chapter 7.   Heaven’s Finger

Chapter 8.   Meeting Colonel Reed

Chapter 9.   Making Right By Becca

Chapter 10. The Next Table Elk

The Old West Adventures of

Ornery and Slim

The Trail Never Ends

(Third Novel)

A story by Montana Kid Hammer

Illustrated by Jonathan Harrison

Edited by Miss Lady Caity

Consider reading the first two AuthorHouse books in this series:

The Old West Adventures of Ornery and Slim—The Partnership

The Old West Adventures of Ornery and Slim—Back in the Saddle Again

INTRODUCTION

I was almost a first grader when the American Civil War, plus 100 years, broke out. It was about the same time I recall seeing a family photo of my Uncle Bill sitting on a couch with his dad in what I believe was Kansas. The photo was titled Whitey and William Lambert, and they were garbed in beards and Civil War-style regalia. It was at that moment, when I was about six years old, that I fully realized just how significant that national conflict, its origins and aftermath, had been and was still; and that it was, and still is, America’s most defining event to date, and the precursor to another defining time, the American Old West. Imagine with me, if you will, that you had just shook the hand of the iconic American movie actor, John Wayne (Marion Robert [later, Mitchell] Morrison, 1907 to 1979). He in turn, purportedly in 1925, during his early years of acting in the burgeoning American movie industry, met and shook the hand of another American icon, Wyatt Earp, (Wyatt Berry Stapp Earp, 1848 to 1929) who was born thirteen years before the beginning of the War-Between-the-States. In the same way that a handshake may span several ages and tie them together in a way that makes time seem so inconsequential, one can see just how close, generationally speaking, we present Americans are to the time of the Civil War and the making of the Old West, and the world-power Nation of America that would follow from this period in history.

I do not attempt to recount the American Civil War in this novel, but to chronicle that period in America that followed it. And if it is implied that this series is the raising of Slim, then in my light references made about the war here, it might be said they refer to the mentoring of Ornery, as well. I bid you, enjoy!—mkh

AUTHOR’S DISCLAIMER

This is the unofficial Cow~boy Surgeon General’s warning to my readership:

THIS NOVEL READS LIKE A 19th CENTURY COW~BOY WROTE IT,

and is recommended to be read, at the speed of dialogue, and as if that very same cow~boy was sharing it to you by his oral storytelling tradition, where it might be said, it’s his sworn duty to slaughter the Queen’s English tongue with his very own.

Also, this novelist is in no way responsible to those of his reading audience who may be carried back in time to the world of Ornery and Slim, and then find no desire to return once again to the time or place of the present.

(My very special thanks to fellow author, Dakota Livesay, editor of Chronicles of the Old West, for permitting me to borrow on a version of his so aptly shared expression that is the sum of my above statement. Please check out Dakota’s Chronicles of the Old West, you shall not be disappointed.)

A special note of interest to educators: The Ornery and Slim adventure series is written with you in mind. Upon recommendation by other like-minded educators, and from my own personal reading disabilities, I designed this novel series with double spaced lines, heavy block font, and high contrast black-on-white letter facing in the hope that by doing so this book series might lend itself to your classrooms and libraries as a highly sought after literary resource. If nothing else, I pray that the many adventures found herein shall be sufficient inspiration to draw in readers of all ages to come ‘live-in-the-Old-West’ with Ornery and Slim.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

This cowman novelist truly has not the words sufficient to thank my many first time and ‘old-hand’ loyal readers in assisting me in spreading the O U T Spread across the globe via The Old West Adventures of Ornery and Slim—The Partnership and Back in the Saddle Again.

I am extremely honored for the continued teamwork of my ever-marvelous storybook editor, Miss Lady Caity, exceptionally skilled illustrator, Jonathan Harrison, and highly talented webmaster, Mary Wetherington, as we four craft you our latest novel. I wish to acknowledge their hard work by sharing with you that they are truly the virtual unsung heroes of the Ornery and Slim franchise. Simply put, I could not publish these books without them.

It is always a pure prairie pleasure to have friends who are courageous enough to co-write their storybook characters with me. So I dearly wish to once again acknowledge Mister Donald D. Reed, Colonel Reed, for his literary assistance in crafting Chapter Eight of The Trail Never Ends. This chapter would not be half the read it now is without Don’s lent hand. Thank you, Don. My thanks to Teddy Blue Abbott, my steadfast partner on the research and book-touring trail. My very special thanks to the Buckhorn Saloon & Museum’s Colonel Texas Bob Reinhardt, Victorian Jess, Miss Scarlett, and Cow~boy Garrett for their unparalleled Texian support of this novelist when he visits their San Antonio de Bexar, Texas.

I am honored plumb, with much gratitude, to Ms. Kim Rowley, my once local Barnes & Noble Booksellers Customer Relations Manager, for her unequaled support in fetching Fairbanks, and beyond, the many tales of Ornery and Slim.

DEDICATION

In Memory of:

Utah Barbara,

(Barbara G. Abbott, April 20, 1934—November 8, 2011)

most loyal Ornery and Slim fan.

&

Justice Lily Kate,

2013 Single Action Shooting Society Hall of Fame Recipient,

Fellow schoolteacher, Alaskan fishing partner, and dear friend.

Chapter I

The Shooting of the Yellowstone Kid

It was late spring, the cow hunt was past, and it was the start of Francis Ezekiel Slimmery’s, or Slim’s, third season on the Oliver Ulysses Tucker, (O U T) Spread. Also, it was the same season that Patrick Jason O’Connor, or Ornery, and Yellowstone Kid, the Tucker Ranch cow detective, received permission from their boss, Cap’n Stewart, with Mr. Tucker’s blessing, to trail north to Canadia where Kid would ply his trade as cow detective in tracking down a dollar-fetching short herd of rustled up Tucker Spread beeves, amongst more stolen cattle from other local ranches. Ornery was dispatched to assist Kid in fetchin’ and trail bossin’ them stolen bovines back home, or to a profitable market that would pleasure up and pay out Mr. Tucker.

Trusted word had come to the Tucker Spread from lawmen out of Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, and Deadwood, Dakota Territory, of a long riding, gun hardened band of cattle thieves from off east that was dallying about the open range and filching beeves from a variety of ranches in both territories. The best evidence now put the outlaws and their mixed herd of stolen cows, and a small band of rustled horses, going north for Canadia via the Montana Territory with bogus herd ownership papers.

Upon all the nefariousness afoot, the neighboring ranches called for to hire a couple of local cow detectives and a top hand or two that were gun-pliable to locate and fetch back their livestock, while serving up swift justice upon them rustlers, fair or foul, for none cared which, so long as it was in fact swift. The local outfits of the Twenty Spread, Johnson Spread, the Kinchard Ranch, the Barckley Place, the O U T Spread and a few others threw in together to buy the services of these particular professionals so’s to mend on their bovine predicament. Purportedly these local boys were pitted against a band of thieves, a group of seven to nine highly cow-skilled and gun-mastered trouble bringers. Cap’n Stewart and Ornery figured three cowhands and a pair of detectives were plenty enough souls to supply a swift solution to this cow nuisance once and for all, especially if this gang were roped-dallied up properly by the element of surprise.

It was reckoned that this cow thieving could no longer be tolerated or excused, especially when this very same band of merciless ruffians were not only rustling cattle and horses, but slaughtering both animals and local cowmen straight up by their cruel doings. Theirs was the murder of young Neddy Peppers, a cowhand from the Kinchard Ranch, when they inconveniently found him guarding the beeves they desired to filch. Men of that very same description, while encroaching upon the Tucker Spread, bullet winged Charlie Spragg who was on the fly from them, as they bent a trail for the Double X with more stolen Tucker beeves. Then they back shot dead ole Charlie Sorensen of the Twenty Spread when he rode off to sound the alarm about their nefarious doings, this last shooting witnessed from a far by none other than Rafe Johnson, the ranch’s very own cow detective. Bob Barckley, eldest son of Mr. C. Harry Barckley, owner of the Barckley Place, had a rope put about his torso hard and was nearly dragged to death by them same boys, and left for buzzard bait. As Kid had offered in comment, Them jaspers would likely wait fer the buzzards to come, an’ blast ’em birds fer no swell reason whatsoever. Fortunately for Bob, he done lived, though he was in a bad way for a long time thereafter. So began the tale about the trail to Canadia for Ornery and the O U T punchers, among others.

The plan that was hatched called for three leather-pounders to make up the initial hunting party and two more to be sent to follow shortly thereafter. Subsequently, Kid called on his swell friend and trusted partner, Rafe Johnson, to join Ornery for their journey north, or wherever this job led them. Rafe, a Texian (an old or original way of saying Texan) compatriot, had met up with Kid back in their Dodge City cow trailing days when they were younger pups, nigh on a decade back. Unlike Ornery, who was along to boss these two in trailing the stolen herd home, Rafe and Kid had the serious obligation of finding the ne’er-do-well boys and arranging for their plumb up execution, bar-none. Ornery caught wind of just how meaningful their ‘serious work’ was when upon inspection of the detective’s firepower he realized that they meant only deadly business of the harshest kind, and they did not plan to fail, period. He was equally astonished, and plenty amazed, at the quality and variety of the collection of shooters the detectives had assembled for this particular assignment. Not only that, he eyed with curious delight an entirely unique ducking pack roll carrier they had constructed for the conveyance of these same guns. Inside their unfurled gun carrier, Ornery spied a finely dressed Model 1874 Sharps Buffalo rifle in caliber 45-110 with a thirty-four inch octagonal barrel with a tube scope on top, a 56-56 caliber, [actual 52 caliber] Spencer carbine, and a Model 1873 Improved Winchester ‘musket’ in caliber 44WCF, [.44-40], for fast mid-range shooting. Another rifle he readily recognized was an Improved Henry rifle, chambered in a rim fire forty-four caliber cartridge. There were a couple of bobbed off shotguns, or scatter-pistols as Rafe referred to them, to round out their collection of long guns and handguns for any messy close-in fighting. Ornery figured Kid and Rafe wholly serious about their hunting solely based on their somber mood and by the ‘artillery’ they were packing up. Each man had a single packhorse for the food and gear assigned to him and a spare saddle horse for the trip to aid in their swifter traveling. Kid and Rafe had a single sturdy little pack mule issued to them for their traveling armory. Before their departure they took, by wisdom, their last bit of direction from Cap’n Stewart for their new and dangerous assignment, and then they rode away gone. Waving to them, Slim watched as his three friends turned to go off the big yard, more north than west when they went.

Later on in their travels, even Ornery was surprised, yet pleased at how swift they fetched up the trail after the rustlers and how rapidly they trailed through Montana to the Canadian border, those cow detectives showing their tall determination to curtail this latest reprehensible activity, and earn their bounty. They rode sure and steady, changing to their second saddle pony at mid-day each day so’s never to ride any one animal too hard for their going. Ornery reckoned that they were moving almost twice as fast as a healthy herd should be going. Now the question begged, just how far ahead was the herd, or had it come to be sold and the rustler go-ed gone?

The O U T boys trailed into Canadia, holding herd ownership and brand registry documents showing true ownership of the cowherd and horse band they claimed upon as they approached Fort Macleod of Alberta Province, Canadia. Ornery’s eyes feasted and his brain noted unto himself just how vast that prairie country north of the Missouri River of the Montana Territory, and all the way to the Canadian fort, did appear to his eyes and mind, with nary a distinctive variation upon the landscape, or so he could best reckon. However, they soon noted one fortunate distinction; an obvious broad path in the half-horse-tall prairie grasses suggested, with goodly encouragement, that a herd had passed through recently.

Once the Tucker trio arrived at what appeared to be a fairly new fort, Ornery sent Kid to obtain for his party the proper authorization from the local provincial law arm to pursue their undertaking and purpose, although without fully revealing his complete purpose to the same. Selected from the post’s complement was the Canadian constable, Corporal Justin Thyme of the Northwest Mounted Police. He was assigned to accompany the cowmen in their endeavor, for to act as guide and purveyor of his nation’s laws, by order of the local provincial commissioner. The cowhands were pleasured to have additional company, for he could enlighten them plenty to the ways of the local folks, the lay of the land, and possible customers that might likely receive their stolen herd and band.

After Ornery finished the details of their cow recovery plan with the Corporal, Kid and Rafe, Rafe and he went to procure fresh horses, packhorses, and additional provisions for their continued travels. As they did, both men discovered good evidence of their rustled stock having been through, as the fort’s Commissary Master was in the holding of a dozen head by mixed yet familiar brands. This evidence made proper their claim and purpose for having come into Canadia as valid. After tracking the ne’er-do-wells thus far with relative ease, none of it surprised the three Tucker boys that the stolen herd would be this straightforward to find and just this soon, too. It appeared that the rustlers were not too terribly concerned for being troubled by the law, detectives or otherwise, with the evidence so blatantly showing on them now.

Within the day, all of the herd-tracking men, including the Corporal now, were back in the saddle going north, crossing Oldman River and then riding along Willow Creek. A word or two shared unto the foursome by some locals, and the trail left behind by the unsuspecting rustlers, offered that the same was hold up on the Sheep River not far from the confluence of the Bow River. It made plumb good sense to bring a herd here by the fresh water where the grass was plenty and stood tall to the belly of a seventeen-hand high horse. The rustlers were obviously fattening up their stolen herd on the move, for later sale at Fort Calgary, a bit further north.

As Ornery rode drag to his group he was guv to a bit of boredom and began to speculate on how young Slim was holding up back at home. Then his active mind slipped away to pondering on that Spanish gal, Josephina, a calico friend back home in Well Springs, where she was with Miss Lisa, their hometown schoolteacher. Thoughts of Josephina made him suddenly feel lonelier than a dandy-tee-totaler in a Dodge City saloon on a roaring night filled with trail weary oiled-up cowpunchers. And though the long trail wore on them all, he wore his day down to naught with sweet ‘rememorances’ of her whirling about in memory in his skull, as weary of his saddle he sorely was. He could not recollect a time most recent when he had spent so many long days in the saddle trailing for beeves. It had not been since he had trailed up from Texas with the original Tucker herd from all those years ago that he would have been in his saddle with a single herd so long as now, and he was a younger, spryer cow pup back then. By far he was not that young any more, and he could reckon that from the way his rack-of-bones were aching on him for his current saddle mileage. By brain distraction, Josephine’s memory was a fair salve on him for the time being.

When night fell, them four riders quit the trail and made camp. Corporal Thyme secured the camp perimeter while the O U T boys took to the other chores. Ornery worked the horses, pack animals, saddles and such. The Corporal gathered fire fuel; sun-dried cow chips, small amounts of tiny sticks and small dead branches for tinder cooking coals. He performed his perimeter perusal on foot, a worn blanket in tow carrying his fuel as he went. Kid helped Rafe secure their meager camping gear from their pack beasts and established their bunk down spot for the night. When the Corporal had completed his perimeter walk and wood fetching, he, along with Ornery’s able assistance and a spade, dug a small shallow fire pit so’s to commence upon their supper making chore.

Kid and Rafe had earlier bagged a double couple of prairie chickens and a pair of rabbits for supper. Ornery cared on for the ponies while the Corporal cooked up supper, and the detectives finished setting up camp and tuning up their revolver hands with a bit of target practice just outside of camp. Later, Rafe went out as well and kept watch on the camp’s perimeter thereafter. The others sat quietly, eating their simple supper of belly wash, wild bird, rabbit meat, rice, and dried apricots.

Ornery asked, Corporal, how come ya’ can cook so swell? He answered, Prior to arriving at my new posting where you found me in garrison, I used to cook and bake at home. Rafe, in from his rounds, said, By the time we got here this evenin’ I was hungry enough to eat my saddle blanket; wet even! All the men laughed good, realizing Rafe was speaking for them all in all truth. Ornery, Rafe, and Kid offered sincere words of respect to the Corporal for the tasty victuals, and first-rate camp coffee too. They hoped he would do it all over again come breakfast. For the moment though, as this was the first actual time the four had to sit a spell, repose a bit, and converse upon each other’s good company, they took advantage of the chance to come to know one another better.

Ornery knew that prior to this adventure and their work with the O U T, Kid and Rafe had history together as Peace Officers in Dodge City and Ellsworth, Kansas for brief stints, and later in Deadwood on the heels of folks like the Earps, the Mastersons, Tilghman, and Hickock. Since Kid oft’ did Mr. Tucker’s bidding, Ornery knew him from where the ranch and range policing was concerned. As for the other, well, he knew Rafe as Kid’s closest friend from the neighboring ranch, the Twenty Spread—oft’ handled The Double X. As such, Ornery had learned a powerful respect for the two detectives as far as their shooting, hunting, tracking and trailing skills in the seasons he had been in their company, and from gun scrapes prior—and there had been a few.

Neither Ornery nor the rest knew very much about the Canadian constable, not yet. Like most men, they reckoned he could handle himself in a hullaballoo, though it was not a given. Therefore, so’s not to let swell coffee go to spoil after supper and chores, they sat a spell and jawed apiece about their origins, and them times prior to this ride. The Corporal tol’t, I came from the back woods of eastern Canadia, where I spent summers cabin living, tracking and hunting. In my youth, I schooled as a chef and baker’s apprentice during my education in Montreal, by winter. Seemingly my skill for meal making, eye for detail, and beast tracking made me a well rounded and welcomed addition to my present life as a member of my nation’s mounted police constabulary here in the Far Western Canadian plain, and so here I am come to this fresh frontier adventure.

By now though it had been noticed to the Tucker boys that the Corporal was well schooled, could ride on par with Ornery and handle a horse well, and he knew his way around his firearms keenly enough when hunting. So they reckoned the Corporal to be naturally born to his line of employment. Nevertheless, they wondered, might he be savvy if an unannounced fight was in the makings?

Ornery, being the only member of the posse to have served in the American Civil War, was their sure fighter from horseback. Before Ornery had gone to Texas during that war, he had been assigned as a First Sergeant to a captain, Captain Reed, in a Virginian Confederate cavalry troop, or company, of a regiment under the command of none other than General J.E.B. Stuart. All this and he lived to tell of it, for he was a veteran saddle back saber soldier of First Manassas, the Valley, Antietam, and more, earning his stripes in battle before early ‘63 and his entry into the Confederate Texas, or Far Western, portion of that same war. The others respectfully listened upon him full, and beckoned him with great enthusiasm to share tales of cavalry engagements unto the enemy. Ornery obliged them with tales and explanations of maneuvers that drew both queries and expressions of awe from all present, much like he oft’ got from Slim. Ornery enjoyed edifying while entertaining his short party, yet went carefully by, if at all, through the hard killings, and the blood fighting parts of his say. Serious words guv them all, yet none garnished by brag or pride as to the bloody portions, but tol’t he of his unit’s behind-the-lines shenanigans with yarn-like one-of-kind Ornery said words. This carried well by all ears that fetched his goodly tol’t tales.

Their tales tol’t, the chores done up and the horses hobbled, the men settled in for the evening as the stars, blanket like, lit the clear nighttime heavens. Ornery volunteered for first watch, having gotten riled up in the head from the long-ago war saying memories. Rafe would relieve him later on.

Before it seemed even possible, the air carried the aroma of mouth watering, belly pleasing coffee, and the crackling of a small campfire brought life to the others sleeping ever so peacefully. The Corporal called to camp, To boots and saddles, gents, for I have a heaping helping of belly packing nourishment in my skillet! Now Justin, as the fellows began to handle him, overheard indistinguishable mumbling as the three dead-log bed-rollers turned a-grumbling, the result of his calling them forth. He said, We have a rustled herd to save, but beans and belly wash, as you Yank Fellows say it, to have before we go to it. Ornery chanced his simple request, Any far chance I’d git got guv my breakfast in bed, good Corporal? Justin replied a cheery tone, Why most certainly, Sergeant Major! Would you have me to serve you hot coffee and pork back on fine china with spread linen or toss it all upon your blanket with you still rumpled beneath it? For sure them words drew a hail of polite insults and goodly laughter from the others, but just for Ornery’s sole benefit. Kid offered, Doe put yer fair luck to the good test, Sergeant Major, fer the grease is hot upon yer blanket when it comes.

On them words, Ornery figured he best drag out from under his blanket and get to filling his belly before the other boys cleaned up all the grub as a result of his procrastination and long winded bed roll chatter.

Within the hour and by the first light, Ornery and the boys threw in together and put up their saddles to ride up Willow Creek. With one last cautious look about, they reined their ponies to action and moved off for their next camping hole.

They rode well another day to naught and put off to rest. Come the morn, Kid and Ornery scouted up and down both banks of the river for further evidence of their cattle. All evidence tol’t that their herd might have either freshly arrived at Calgary fort or was just shy of the place. The Corporal leading, they put on their ponies again and crossed over the river, going with caution to Fort Calgary.

The sun was dead overhead when Kid and the Corporal came to the top of a small hill. Over that little rise, the unbelievable busted out in front of them. Their eyes filled full by the sight of a quiet, short herd grazing in the company of a single cowhand sitting watch on them. Without thought and solely by reaction, both men swiftly kicked down off their saddles, went prone to the ground on the backside of the short crest and hid themselves and their ponies from the view of the single saddler, who by fortune had his back to them.

Kid fished up his telescoping monocular from his belt pouch to peer upon his latest find from afar. In little time, riding up from behind, Ornery and Rafe approached and rapidly took notice to the fresh action of their prone, sod-perched partners. They too parked their ponies so’s to observe and learn of this fresh situation that lay there before them.

Kid lay quite still, very quietly and carefully eyeing the terrain and activity thereabouts. Watching hard the lone rider at the back of that same herd, Kid reckoned that the saddler did not appear to have a clue that he was under close scrutiny. Finally, Kid pulled his eye away from his spyglass and smiled, saying in a low whisper, This’s our missin’ herd alright. They’s fer sure wearin’ all the right brand marks.

So they decidedly took to holding up, waiting and watching to see what was going to happen next. Ornery glassed the herd carefully for brands that would confirm Kid’s words, and helped the Corporal learn the same about this herd before them. He concurred with Kid that this was their mixed herd in question, along with a growing mix of brands that included the very ones they had come so far for.

Soon enough, a larger party on horseback rode to the point where the single saddler was posted on the herd. Upon seeing these men, Rafe confirmed that these were the murdering rustlers he had encounter at his Spread. The three Tucker boys and the Corporal, quietly and swift-like, put themselves to deliberating a plan of assault, as they prudently remained just out of sight and sound of the outlaw band. The Tucker party carefully backtracked on themselves, and took to hiding in a small stand of trees about one hundred and fifty yards south of the herd. This was the place where they reckoned to spring their attack upon the rustlers, and exact the recovery of their herd. Suddenly, however, a single horse rider appeared atop a low promontory above where the rustlers and the herd sat, and the rider being south facing away from the Tucker attackers, Ornery and his party immediately set to revamping their plan of assault forthwith.

This new plan had Kid, Rafe and Ornery swapping a few firearms around with each other, and Justin was guv the pair of pommel placed scatter-pistols. Now they were all fixed up to go dance with them rustlers. Rafe took up in a low tree, where he hid with an assortment of powerful long-range capable rifles at his disposal, as he fixed to be the proverbial ‘snake-in-the-grass’ player in their new plan. Kid sat pat with a long lever gun of good power, his 45-60 caliber Winchester Centennial rifle, ready to advance forth on horseback and shoot if’n some foolishness busted loose on Ornery and the Corporal. The Justin and Ornery, as the Corporal-constable and livestock inspection officer, planned to casually ride out to perform a ‘health and wellness inspection’ on this herd, a second and more thorough look to verify that this was in fact the cattle they were in search of. And if’n so, they would procure the same and make it ready for the return home, or for sale. Now the plan was this, if’n after this closer inspection proved this herd was indeed theirs, Ornery would remove his hat from his head, run his left hand long through his hair fore-to-aft twice, and reset his hat upon his head as a signal to the other three of his posse to commence to guvin’ them rustlers the rest of their plan. But first, Ornery and the Corporal would have to go present themselves to these already positively identified cow thieves.

It was not long before the ne’er-do-well cow runners took notice of the red-jacketed rider and this man’s horse set companion. The pair rode up like they were just going along their way, perhaps to Fort Calgary. Ornery and the Corporal continued to keep an eye on the ridge rider, as well as the six saddlers now in front of them in various places. Fortunately for Ornery, his horse was a change-out and did not wear the brand that would identify him to his Wyoming home place like a goodly number of cows in the herd before him displayed.

The whole affair started off swell enough with the mounted constable guv by the first word, calling out, Good day, gentlemen! I am Corporal Thyme of the Northwest Mounted Police and this here is my stock inspection officer, Pat Orey. Ornery liked this introduction, having never been an officer before. And who might you all be? continued the Corporal.

The closest outlaw rider nodded and introduced his boys to the policeman, saying, Howdy Constable, I would be Hank Rent, and this here is—pointing to his immediate right—my foreman, Jake Simms. Over there is Bob Patty and behind him is Li’l Billy Mack. Pointing to his left, That’s Denny Shea, James Mackey and up top there, that’s Sam Burners. As the two men conversed, Ornery was observing and concluding to his swell satisfaction that this was their filched herd by nearly every brand all too familiar to him, including that of the Tucker Spread.

Justin watched on as Ornery removed his hat and did all that had been discussed prior. Then the Corporal asked, Mister Rent, are you bossing this outfit for this herd’s owner? Rent replied, Yes. Why? The Corporal answered, Then you will not mind showing Mister Orey your proof of ownership document, true? Hoping to stall or rearrange the conversation, Rent replied, What kinda papers do ya’ require sufficient, Constable? The Corporal answered, Say ones like for all of these different brands, papers of ownership, health inspections, bills of sale, and all you have for his inspection as required by this province. Rent hotly protested, Constable! That will occupy a fair piece of time and I am expected at the fort up the road by day’s end. I done all of this when we bordered in. Besides, ain’t that swell enough for ya’ nosey redcoat cops? Ignoring the insult, the Corporal replied, Daylight is a burning, and if you have already furnished orderly papers previously, you will not mind my man looking to see just who honored you in at the boundary and any transactions since then, will you?

Smelling trouble and knowing his paperwork was not what a sharp-eyed inspector would let pass, and not wanting to be detained further, or have his stolen herd pulled, Rent called out, Jake, guv ’em what they come for!

In a flash, and as Ornery, who was to receive the ‘papers’ so feared, the outlaws seemingly wanted to offer powder filled paper cartridges and more, rather than their cow-documenting paperwork. Watching Rent’s eyes begin to grow more shifty, and listening to the hostility in his voice grow, Corporal Thyme reckoned on their direction toward gunplay too, and he was not alone in this observation. Rafe listened and watched on from his great distance away, and though he could in no wise hear what was spake, he could see and read the actions of the man addressing the Corporal. He tightened his eye’s focus on his rifle’s scope, through which he had a goodly bead on the head of the man who sat the saddle nigh on the Corporal, ready for a shot on the same should it be demanded by circumstance.

Jake hesitated none long and fetched up what his boss called for. The Corporal swift-ed