A Legend in Time

By Ralph Pendergrass

The westward movement holds a special place in many American hearts. Within the bindings of this book lie stories of struggles and sacrifices. Adversity and adventure. Love and laughter. Life and death. Our story begins with one such man in old age sharing stories to his grandson of what it cost his family to help tame the American West and build for the future. Within his stories lies firsthand accounts of the days of old. The old west when the west was really wild. Of friends and foes, outlaws and Indians. From poverty to prosperity. Gallant and heroic acts of survival and sacrifice. Last but not least herein lies the story of a man and his horse. He and this magnificent stallion both faster in more ways than one ride off into folklore and legend with a massive fortune of gold and seven outlaws hot on they're trail.

As a dark silhouette sat motionless in the saddle of life upon his tall dark horse in the light of a full moon. High on a bald hill he sat, "silent," "patiently waiting," casting a soft shadow on the hard ground below. The only peace this silhouette would find would only be found by his own admission. "At the point of dying."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685267407

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1: Grandpa Shad

Chapter 2: 1865: Live and Die Well, My Son

Chapter 3: Dead as Dead Gets

Chapter 4: 1865: Brody Dempsey

Chapter 5: He's Got Grit

Chapter 6: 1865: Family

Chapter 7: 1867: Like the Bear and the Wolf

Chapter 8: 1867: Which Is the Hoss? Which Is the Saddle?: Chapter 9

Chapter 9: 1867: Mount a Painted Pony

Chapter 10: 1867: Red Elk and Runs Swiftly

Chapter 11: 1867: The Mother Lode

Chapter 12: Cole, Slim, and Little Bob

Chapter 13: 1870: Mattie

Chapter 14: 1869: Standing Red Bear

Chapter 15: 1869: John Fulbright

Chapter 16: 1870: To the Victor Goes the Spoils

Chapter 17: 1870: Trouble Me No More

Chapter 18: 1871: The Gun He Wears and the Lead It Carries

Chapter 19: 1872: S and S Mule Express

Chapter 20: 1873: The Scalp Hunters

Chapter 21: 1879: I Never Take Killing a Man Lightly

Chapter 22: I Will Hate No More

Chapter 23: 1879: Tell 'Em When Ya See 'Em I Said Howdy

Chapter 24: 1879: Wetworth

Chapter 25: 1879: Big Jim

Chapter 26: 1880: Breaking My Promise

Chapter 27: 1882: Dead on His Feet

Chapter 28: At the Point of Dying

Chapter 29: 1883: As the Color of Snow on Four Legs

Chapter 30: 1883: Ain't I Something?

Chapter 31: 1884: Strangers with a Grudge

Chapter 32: Late October 1884: Watch Your Back

Chapter 33: 1884: A Legend in Time

Chapter 34: 1884: Miss Dora Scott

Chapter 35: 1886: A Fork in the Road

Chapter 36: Eyes Are Watching

Chapter 37: 1886: The Devil Himself

Chapter 38: 1886: This Shindig Is Over

Chapter 39: 1887: Come Hell or High Water

Chapter 40: 1887: The Only Profit to Be Had

Chapter 41: 1928: I'll Be Along

About the Author

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A Legend in Time

Ralph Pendergrass

ISBN 978-1-68526-739-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88851-251-7 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-68526-740-7 (Digital)

Copyright © 2022 Ralph Pendergrass

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

To Delbert and Judy Long of Lebanon, Missouri

Not to go into specifics, but in my youth, I left home earlier than most and lived in my car for the last two and a half years of high school. For the better part of that, I worked on Delbert and Judy Long's dairy farm before and after school and on weekends. I was a bit of a handful, it was said. Though as I look back, I only see myself as being young at heart, living life as only one without a clue about real life would do. Had it not been for Delbert and Judy treating me better than I deserved, there's no telling where I could have ended up. Delbert, Deb as he was called, would often say, Boy, what you need is a hitch in old Uncle Sam's army. By golly, they'd straighten you right out. I was like most kids at that young age. Invincible! I had a fast car and a fast mouth.

Delbert was probably the most honest man I ever met, and regardless of what showed on the outside, I had the greatest respect for both him and Judy. What Deb and Judy spoke got through to me more than they ever could have imagined, and years later, I was blessed to have the opportunity to let them know it, and that I did. Though they have both passed now, this dedication goes out to them. I only wish they both knew the true depth of my gratitude and the tremendous pleasure it was to have known them both.

Ralph Pendergrass

To the Reader

If you read more than one of the novels in this series, it will appear at times that you are rereading one of the other novels. There are certain chapters taken one from the other yet changed somewhat so that they are not exact one to the other. This was done in order for each novel to tell its own story yet tie one novel to the other without compromising the integrity of what the whole story has to tell; yet each novel has, within itself, its own complete story to tell.

Chapter 1

Grandpa Shad

As I stepped out into the pitch-black darkness of the back porch, I latched shut the door behind me. Just off to my right, in the darkness I heard the squeaking of an old rocking chair. A weathered old face momentarily came to light there in the darkness when a match was struck. The old man sitting there cupped it in his hands and relit a hand-rolled Prince Albert cigarette, then he took a couple good puffs and shook his match out, then he coughed a couple times.

Put some fire in that lantern, boy, he said. Then pull ‘yer' self' up a chair. He rocked forward leaning in his chair and spit off into the darkness. You could see just a hint of daylight in the cresting sky far to the east.

After I pulled a match out of my pants pocket, my eyes focused somewhat to the darkness. I could slightly see leaning forward there in his rocker the old man's silhouette as he then gazed out from under the overhang of the porch toward the star filled sky. We still have half an hour before that sun bust's daylight. Days are finally getting longer and warmer, he remarked as he now reached to his side where his hot cup of coffee sat on a stick of wood.

I raised the globe and struck the match putting it to the wick of the old kerosene lantern hanging there a few short feet away. Shortly thereafter the surroundings in the darkness soon began to show their presence as I lowered the globe.

Morning, old man, I remarked as I took notice of him holding a book he had been writing in for some time. You keep sucking in this ole cold mountain air at your age, and it's liable to be the death of you.

While cradling his book in one hand and with his cigarette near burnt to his withered old fingers in the other, he said, That's Mr. Old Man to you, youngster.

I could almost hear him smiling through the darkness though I hadn't seen him smile since my grandma Dora had passed. I also hadn't heard him laugh in just as long. A slight smirk seemed to be the best you could get out of him these days. My grandma's death was the beginning of the end for my grandpa.

You'll always be more than Mr. Old Man to me, Grandpa, I said. You know that. I can only hope to be every bit the Mr. Old Man you are in my own time. I hope one of these days to have my own grandson who thinks as much of me as I do of you.

Son! he began. That would be all well and good, ya know, the kid thinking a lot of ya and all, but you don't want to ever be anything like me. To do that you'd have to see the things I've seen and done the things I've done. He held his book up slightly, shook it, then laid it back in his lap and continued. "I'm telling ya now, you don't want any part of that. To die old and alone not real sure if the good Lord will smile upon ya come judgment day. No, sir, you're coming along just fine without all that. You keep on coming along like ya are, and you'll be a far better man than I ever was.

I know I ain't said it to ya, but maybe a couple times in your life 'cause I ain't one to wear shit out, but hear me plain and clear now. I love ya, boy. Always have, always will. I never wanted to be hard on ya. I just had to be because we got a lot riding on you. Coddled boys don't make real men.

Well, I love you too, Grandpa, I solemnly said. You didn't have to say it. I always knew it.

Well! he said. I just didn't want to clutter your mind with such thought while trying to make a man out of ya and teaching ya how to run this ranch. It's a serious business, lad, and it takes serious men to run it proper like, and I needed you to take it serious. If you want your family and this ranch to prosper, then you're going to have to be a hard man too, so don't expect folks to like ya nor have the want for such.

Pa says you're a dying breed, I said.

Na! he responded. Assholes are born every day, boy, and don't let yer pa or anyone else tell ya different.

I could hardly keep from snickering a little at that one, and neither could he. I sure miss those conversations with him.

I don't know where you come up with all the things you do, I said.

It came with my education, he responded.

I thought you one time said you only went to the six or eighth grade, I remarked.

I didn't say it was a good education, he answered. My lands the stories I could tell.

I've only heard bits and pieces of your stories, I said. Grandpa! In all reality, you know everything there is to know about my life, but I know very little of yours. Why is that?

Well, there was a time I thought, Grandpa said. Better they was left in the past, but now day's I'm thinking different. The story of my life is a story of many stories. That's why I decided to write this here book.

Is that what you've been writing in your book? I asked. Old stories and such?

I'd love nothing more than to have had you meet the man you was named after, Grandpa said. To do that now, you'll have to read my book. It'll be the closest thing to meeting him you'll get these days.

*****

In the early morning light of what was left of the kerosene lantern burning and the sun rising, I saw my grandpa lean forward in his chair with his elbows resting on his knees and rubbing his hands together thinking.

Son! he said. I can tell ya a plenty stories, but truth be told, they ain't all easy to tell or hear. That's in part why I wrote it down. Some stories might put a smile on your face, then again some might tear at ya somewhat. Then Grandpa looked up and off into the sky now breaking daylight, hesitating several moments before speaking again.

"Like my telling ya about the man you was named after, for example. Oh my lord, how I've missed him and that big ole horse he rode. Big Jim he was called. I guess it was best they died together. If ole Big Jim would have died of plain old age, it'd probably killed ole Quin, anyway. It was like they was meant to live and die together. It's a terrible thing to see the most important thing in your life grow old and die. Then knowing he died only a shell of what he once was. I'm talking about in his youth, and worst yet is knowing you yourself ain't that far behind.

"I'd even like to tell ya how it was I came to hold the prettiest woman alive. My, my. I can still see the love in that woman's eyes yet today. All I have to do is close my eyes and think back on fonder times.

"Boy, I could tell ya stories of love and romance. Heartaches and hardships. Life and death. My favorite, legends and lore. Where the good guy always wins but we both know that isn't always true now, don't we? Leastways, one time that I know of.

"They'd be stories of how the west was really wild and how several so close to this family left us way too soon. But that man and his horse. Now there's a story worth telling. It's a story about how the speed of that horse was only matched by the speed of the colt that hang from his rider's hip. You want to hear about the real Wild West, well, son, I can tell ya all about it because I lived it. Course now back in those days, we didn't call it the Wild West. No, sir, we called it just trying to survive.

"I'd like to leave this earth knowing my grandson knew his grandpa for who he really was not who he thought he was. I don't want ya thinking more of me than what I really was but to be honest I was a real cowboy in the days of the real west, and I'm proud of it. Men like me and Quin, Cole and Slim, little Bob. We was all cut from the same cloth, we were. That I now see and there's no shame to be had in it. It was like we was all just a bunch of marbles dumped out of a sack on the hard ground but we all rolled out together.

"There's been a good many that's lived, loved, fought, and died on this patch of ground. I'll be another soon enough, and more than likely, you will too, but that will be in your own time. One day you'll be the head of this family and this ranch. Don't think for a second that it's going to be easy. I made the hard choices when others wouldn't and because of that I became a hard man it was said. I reckon there's some truth to it. It was my punishment ya see. Good or bad, right or wrong. Every tough choice comes with some kind of punishment. You'll find that out soon enough. I wasn't always a hard man. There was a time I was a cheerful type, like you.

Quin, the man you was named after. Not so much. Not that he didn't crack a smile once in a while, but ya never heard him just outright bust a gut.

"I guess I knew all along he was a tormented man inside, but I didn't see it or understand it like I should have at that time. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own concerns.

We was given a job, Quin and me. A job neither one of us was gonna short serve come hell or high water. A job building a legacy, ya see. A legacy for others to come. That brings us to you, this ranch, and this here book. I've got a story to tell lad. I just hope I've got time enough to tell it.

However long it takes, I said. I'm here to listen, Grandpa.

If, for any reason, I fail to finish reading it to ya, I want you to pick it up and finish reading it yourself. If anything, you might want to add a little more to it. My journals are full of stories. Pass it on to your young'uns. Add your own stories.

With just enough daylight to see the pages, he looked off out into the early-morning sunrise. Somewhat thereafter, he cleared his throat and, without ever looking down, began to read what seemed like from memory instead of his book.

His name was Quinlan Mc Colley, he said. Then he looked over at me. His eyes were watering somewhat, I could tell. I wasn't sure if it was because of his old age or maybe it was because there was sadness to come at what he in time would share with me. In time we made a pair, he said. Him and me, blazing our own trail and giving 'em hell, as they might say. But like I said, it was in time. We was yet to meet.

It was late summer 1865. Shortly after the War Between the States. Twenty miles south of what's now known as Bozeman Montana. There under the shade of several aspen sat a covered wagon.

Chapter 2

1865

Live and Die Well, My Son

It was late 1865. Shortly after the War Between the States. Twenty miles south of what's now known as Bozeman Montana sat a covered wagon in the early morning shade of several aspens. Also in the shade of the aspens stood a double set of Missouri mules all hobbled and grazing in the edge of a small grassy meadow.

Twenty yards to the west was an embankment with a shallow creek which was down to a small stream for this time of year yet the water in the shallow creek was clean and cold.

The Pilgrims who were traveling into the lower Montana territory to make a new life were known as Carny and Madge Mc Colley, along with their son fifteen years of age, Quinlan, and their daughter, Kaitlin, who was nine years of age.

Migrants from Ireland their journey had been extremely long, yet their new home was almost in sight. Carny felt sure he would see the site of where they expected to build their new home in no more than two or three days' time.

Carny had taken his family and left a troubled Ireland behind years before only then to find himself in an even bloodier conflict. The War Between the States.

He and his family had survived the war, and he then continued his search for a new home and prosperity.

As Carny sat with Quinlan one night in the glow of a late-evening firelight, he said, "Know this, my son. A man who hides in the shadows of life just too merely exist may survive many years, but he will never know life as the Almighty would wish. Not life as the one who stood out front. Fearless for what he holds to be just and right. This man who stands out front may not see as many years, but he will know life for all its glory, and the Almighty will smile upon him come judgment day.

"Dying for what you believe to be just and right is godly, my son. God favors the brave and strong at heart but he hates a coward. As long as a man's heart favors the good of all mankind then defending it with his life should be his sacred vow. Never bow to another mans will when it is not godly or just.

"Yet, if you one day find yourself, standing out front and alone against a larger more abundant foe. Be not easily defeated. Be wise, use your head, my son. Be smart about it. Use the land, the trees, the water, the sun, and even the moon if necessary. Whatever you find available. Use it to your advantage. If you fall, take as many with ya as ya can. It may lessen the burdens of your brothers yet to come. Your one unselfish act of sacrifice could be what turns the tides and calms the winds for all those to battle in your stead.

Whether it be for the man you are or the man you were. If by chance there comes a time that you in old age can look back upon, let there not be found a life you've lived that shames you. Fight till your last breath leaves you. Live life and death one no greater than the other. Live and die well, my son. Live and die well.

Carny always spoke forthright and in depth to Quinlan for the responsibility of manhood would soon fall upon him and he would need a man's mind to make it in this world. He would need to see that there would be more than one side to every story and when it came to decision time it would have to be a decision he would have to make then have to live with.

Carny knew Quinlan to have the drive to be a man before his time. Always since childhood taking on responsibilities expected of a boy twice his age. Never was there ever one who more willingly carried a heaver load for one's age. Nor was he ever a complainer. He wanted to know everything. And being good with his hands he knew there wasn't anything he couldn't do if he put his mind to it. He would overcome anything and everything that tested him. To quit or give up was not in him. Little did he know and how quickly at such a young age his real test would begin.

Tied at the back of the wagon was a two-year-old Thoroughbred stallion Jim and two matching sorrel mares Rose and Ruby all bought in Kentucky on their journey to Montana. They were to be the beginning breeding stock to start a horse ranch. Thoroughbreds are known to be mountain bred. They could adapt to the changes in high altitude better than most. High endurance and stamina far exceeding the typical Quarter horses and free range wild ponies and mustangs roaming the American Northwest. Horses like the stock the Mc Colleys would be breeding would be valuable in this wild country.

Quinlan, lad! Take Jim to the stream and let him drink, Carny said. When ye finish, tie him a wee bit downstream with enough lead to reach some grasses straight away from the filly mares. I believe 'em to be coming into season. They've been short with him as of late. We'll take our Sabbath leave today and give the stock a day's rest before we trail on. I expect you to ride him down tomorrow. Take a little fire out of him and put a bit more savvy in him. Can ye handle that, boy?

Ye bet, Pa, Quinlan said. I can handle it.

Shortly thereafter Quinlan took Jim downstream and tied him to a small grove of saplings growing out of the bank with enough lead rope to reach wild grasses and the stream. Then upon returning he could smell the meal to come cooking over the fire but before he got back up the bank he spotted Kaitlin playing slightly upstream so he thought best not to leave her alone even slightly out of site of the camp.

Katlin! Quinlan scolded. You know better than to wander off the way you do. Ma or Pa will tan your hide they will. You keep on with doing that and one day a mean ole In'gin will scarf you up and run plumb off with ye. Make ye spend the rest of your days stomping corn into meal and chewing the stiffness out of an old smelly buffalo hide. I hear they make all the women folk do it. Big and little alike.

Oh, Quinlan, Katlin claims. Your telling tales, ye are. And I be knowing it.

Well, maybe so, then again maybe not so, Quinlan admitted. Either way. Ye best come on with me now.

After gathering up Katlin and her button eyed burlap doll, they were starting toward the steep creek bank when Quinlan heard several rushing horses hoof beats sounding above over the break of the bank in their camp then an awful fight broke out with yelling and cursing then gunfire erupted. The last words he heard from his folks was his mother's scream and his father shouting, Damn your hides! Then several more shots sounded.

Quin, for whatever reason, noticed a massive tree-root cluster washed out and sticking out of the creek bank. He without hesitation grabbed Katlin and tucked him and her both up under this massive root cluster. A covey hole so to speak with plenty of space to crawl high up and far back. Completely out of sight from above.

A horse and its rider rushed up to the edge of the bank for just a moment to look about then turned and hurriedly rode back.

Quinlan hadn't seen, but he had heard and he knew that all the gunfire he heard could not be fought off by a single shot rifle. His father's rifle was only a single shot.

Then he thought and remembered he had seen his mother tuck his father's pistol away in her apron and knew his father probably had no time to lay hold of it as to give them a fighting chance.

His father would complain to his mother about everything having its place, and his Colt's place was in the holster. Not in her apron.

Ah! she'd say. But it's a fine gun and it needs to be cared for proper like. Leaving it in that old holster out in the open will cause it to fail one day.

The fact of the matter was she herself used that as an excuse to keep it handy and Carny let it slide for he knew she could and would use it if need be.

Armed and agitated, a good many pioneer women in their own rights were a force to be reckoned with.

After several minutes of silence, Quinlan had to find out what had happened. So after motioning to Kaitlin about keeping quiet and staying put, he placed her home sewn burlap doll with button eyes tight in her arms then he peeked out through the roots. He saw a figure once again. This time standing afoot at the top of the bank above them briefly looking about. It wasn't his father.

He and Katlin froze in place. All hope was gone, and then he knew for sure. Not even he himself knew at that moment how he no longer was the boy he was just moments before. A change was taking place within him, even he, could not control.

At that moment, he rolled his eyes looking downward and suddenly noticed where he and Katlin had left plain as day their footprints in the dirt bank leading straight to where they lay.

As only chance would allow, the stranger took no notice and he turned back yelling to the others saying, Gather the mules. They'll fetch a fair piece from the miners. Leave the wagon. It may be worth a goodly amount but it's not worth getting our necks stretched over. We may need to move fast.

Once the stranger walked back to the camp, Quinlan told Katlin to hold tight and after getting his nerve up he took off his boots and shirt. He then quietly tore his shirt in half and tied each half around each foot. Then slowly and with great care not to make any noise he slipped out and took his feet with the pieces of shirt tied on and his hands also and rubbed and wiped out all the prints he could find. And in doing so he soon found himself at the edge of the bank where a deer path led to the camp. Just on the left side of the path to the camp was a thick cluster of brush.

Quinlan had to peak through the brush and what he saw took what youth and innocence that still existed in him away. Peering through the brush before him, on the ground lay the lifeless bodies of his mother and father.

He lowered his head near placing his face in the dirt bank feeling a sickness he had never felt before. Then he thought of Kaitlin. She was now his responsibility.

Suddenly there rose a near uncontrollable anger within him yet controlled he kept it, for along with the anger rose a determination. A determination to send each and every one of these men straight to the pits of hell. In order to do that he would have to be smart, keep control and use his head. Even with all the anger and heartache he was feeling, words spoken by his father came flooding into his mind giving him direction.

As the tall stranger stood no more than thirty feet away with his back turned to Quinlan, two other men were making their way through the belongings in the wagon while a fourth man just stood at the front end of the wagon looking about scanning their surroundings and then suddenly he looked straight at Quin but did not reveal him.

Quinlan's heart near stopped. He may have just made a fatal mistake. The man at the front of the wagon looked toward his companions and when they weren't looking his way he looked back to Quinlan and nodded his head for Quin to get away.

As they made their way in and around the camp, Quinlan studied their faces, memorizing their every feature. He would one day make them all pay.

Then one of the men climbed out of the wagon with a wooden box and when he opened it he hollered at the others, Hey, boys! I do believe we hit the mother lode! Yee, haw! Will ya take a gander at all this!

The tall stranger and the two pillagers counted out the money found in the cashbox while the fourth man just continued to stand at the front of the wagon keeping watch occasionally nodding to Quin and slightly showing discomfort as to Quin's reluctance to ease away or just run and hide.

That's a thousand and twelve dollars, said the man who happened upon the cashbox. I ain't never seen that much money in one clump in my whole life.

See, boys! the tall stranger bragged. Told ya when I saw this outfit. There's a man with money to spare. Looks like he had a plenty to spare.

The tall stranger who Quin had not yet seen the face of looked toward the man standing at the front of the wagon. Here's two hundred for each of ya. The rest of the goods we'll split even when we sell 'em. Right now I believe ole Jim Bob and I need to have us a talk. Keep digging around, Dod, he ordered. Jasper, get shud of those bodies.

Want 'em buried? Jasper asked.

No time for such nonsense. Toss 'em in that wash over yonder, and cover 'em up with some brush. Maybe it will hold the buzzards off a day or two. Gather what goods we can sell or use and be quick about it.

So while Jasper saw to disposing of Quinlan's mother the tall stranger passed the lifeless body of Quinlan's father. He then paused and bent over and removed a Bowie-style knife and sheath from Quinlan's father's belt.

He stood there admiring the knife. Then he walked up to the man at the front of the wagon and handed him the knife and sheath. Not your initials but it's still a mighty fine knife. Here, take it!

The man standing at the front of the wagon took it then stuck it in his waistband.

Then the stranger handed two hundred dollars to the man. Your cut of the dollars, he said. You look a little pale Bob. You hav'n' second thoughts of riding with us? The two men then stood face-to-face.

After a short moment, the tall stranger said, You best get your head straight. You're in it as deep as the rest of us now. Standing here all unsettled like. Your gazing about like you're look'n for a way out. Is that it? I won't have a man ride with me I have any doubts about.

I'm good, Cook, Jim Bob explained. Thing is, with all the gun play, there's a good chance it could have been heard a good ways off down this valley, and if someone came a run'n, we best be ready to fight or ride. Someone had to keep an eye out. It was either me or ole Jasper there. You'd rather it'd been ole Jasper?

He himself talks of being near run over by a late stage. He couldn't hear or see something like that coming? No, I reckon my keeping an eye out would be best for all concerned.

Thing is! The tall stranger smirked. Won't be no one coming. Leastways not as long as the buzzards don't give 'em up. These Pilgrims are twenty miles or better from the nearest trail cut'n north through the territory.

We passed this way didn't we? Jim Bob asked. Could be others would too.

Yea! But we was trying to stay off those trails, Cook explained.

Getting to be more than a few trappers and miners in these parts, Jim Bob once again explained. Besides! I thought we were looking to hold up gold wagons or banks. Not innocent folks.

A stake is a stake, the tall stranger bragged. This one turned out real nice.

Then Jasper walked up yakking, This was a heap easier than taking any bank and a dang site more profitable don't ya think?

Looking at Jim Bob, Jasper then said, Last bank we took, we pocketed $83. That's all. Left one dead and three dying as far as we could tell. That is at a dead run out of town. Then he laughed and slapped his leg. Yea, howdy! Them there folks were throwing us a lead and gunpowder party to say the least. 'Member that, Cook?

Bob! Ya ever try split'n $83 three ways? Twenty-four dollars and four bits each wasn't hardly worth it. Huh, Cook? The two hundred today sure makes up for it, though. Then Jasper started dragging Quin's father away.

Cook grinned a little at Jim Bob. Poor ole Jasper. Never had a day of schooling in his whole life.

With that the stranger turned around and for the first time Quinlan got his first good look at the stranger called Cook. A face and name he would never forget.

As the other man who happened upon the cashbox continued snooping and tossing out the family garments he came upon youngster clothing.

Holding up a young girl's night shirt he yelled out. Hey! We might have us a problem! Ya'll best take a gander and see if there's a youngster run'n about.

Cook quickly motioned to the men to spread out and search. Dod, the man who happened upon the cash box and clothes grabbed his rifle from his scabbard and was making his way toward where Quinlan and Kaitlin were.

With that Jim Bob swung up in the saddle and with a violent spurring and whipping of the reins and hollering, Ha up now! Ha! Ha! Ha! as he took off at a hard run north on his mount.

Where's he think he's a run'n off to? Jasper yelled out, asking. Ya reckon he spotted himself a youngster run'n off down yonder some where's?

The coward's cut'n out on us! Cook yelled. Toss me your rifle, Dod.

Dod tossed his Henry rifle to Cook and as soon as it landed in Cook's hands he levered and chambered a forty-five round then drew down over the wheel of the wagon taking a steady site and then a few short seconds later a shot rang out, and Quinlan saw the man from nearly three hundred yards away fall from his horse at a dead run.

Then the horse made a wide swing to the right and at a short lope came back to the camp. When it strode up and stopped the saddle was covered in blood.

Wow! Blow'ed his back plum out, Jasper declared. Quite a shot, if I do say so myself.

Cook tossed the Henry rifle back to Dod and quickly got back to business asking Dod. Them youngster cloths ya found. All packed away or out and about!

Packed away. Why? asked Dod.

'Cause if they were out and about that means a youngster's here, Cook explained. If not, there's a chance their probably where these folks were coming from or heading too.

We eyed these folks for a while and never saw but the two of them, Dod said.

Scout around anyhow, Cook ordered. Then let's high tail it out of this gulley.

With that Quinlan slipped back to Kaitlin and held her tight and kept her quiet while one of the men came and stood directly above them on the roots scanning briefly about up and down the stream as best he could then he hurried away.

A brief period later, Quin heard the galloping of horses getting fainter and fainter in the distance.

After a solid hour passed Quinlan finally put his boots back on then cautiously slipped out and searched about. Then he returned to Kaitlin. Quinlan felt relief knowing his parents' bodies had been moved and were now out of sight of his kid sister.

By this time Kaitlin was becoming aware of the cold hard truth about what had happened, Quin held her while she broke down for quite some time. Then he told her he needed to do a few things but he would soon be back. She near refused to let him go but after stressing to her how he had no choice she finally accepted the notion. You sit tight up here at the edge of the bank and keep an eye out while I tend to a couple things, Quin said. If need be, you scurry back up under these roots. You hear me, li'l Kate?

Katlin responded yes as best she could, shaking her head.

Quin and Kaitlin slipped back to the camp area and looked about. He sat Katlin up next to the bank near the path.

He saw the wagon worth a goodly amount still in its place, but he knew they left it so they could make better time. Everything else was scattered about. Quin grabbed up another shirt and put it on.

By this time Kaitlin had only a blank stare and was now showing no emotion. Just staring at whatever lay in front of her holding her doll tight. Their world had changed with just a few short seconds of gunfire. Quin was feeling shame for hiding though there was nothing he could do but try to protect Kaitlin. Had he tried anything else at all they too would be just as dead. Still, the shame was there. He recalled the remark his father had said about God hating a coward but what he hated worst was the thought that his father now thought of him as a coward for not trying to do something.

You just sit tight and let me do what's needed, Quinlan said, sickened by what he would have to do went to the wagon. He knew his father had a few hand tools and he was going to need a pick and shovel. He was shutting off all emotion as best he could for it would fall on him to give his folks a proper burial.

It was a horrific situation for anyone to be in, especially the young son of those lost yet he would shoulder this responsibility as only a man would and if possible collect debts now owed.

But as he looked the picks and shovels weren't to be found. They had been taken. But why? Then he recalled Cook mentioning selling to some miners.

Then he saw it. His mother's rolled-up apron lying between the chest and the bench board of the buck board in the front of the wagon. He thought the one time she needed her apron and she didn't have it on for it was rare for her to not have it on. Then he realized the leaving of the wagon proved more valuable than first thought.

The chest lid was open, and the apron wasn't visible from directly above. But it could be quickly grabbed up from the seat of the wagon if need be.

As he unwrapped it he laid his hands on his father's Colt 44 loaded and primer'ed. Then as he tucked it in his pants, he saw rolled further up in behind the chest, the holster and fixings. He grabbed it up and holstered the pistol. Buckled the belt and slung it over his shoulder. The fixings he tucked in his pockets and down inside his shirt. The fools got so excited when they found the money they overlooked it. Though it was a lot of gun for such a young lad he was large for his age, and he had shot it many times and was a fair enough shot with it when he had time to aim careful like. He was a crack shot with his father's rifle but it was gone.

He knew he could take only that which he could carry. Only that he would have to have. For he and Kaitlin had several miles yet to go. Thankfully, his father had showed him how to read the stars. Sun locations at what times of the year and how to tell the time of day accordingly. How to tell north, south, east, and west.

He knew the direction he needed to travel. Better yet. He knew if his father was right he was within two or three days ride at most from their destination.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks. A horse nickered. They were coming back. So he jumped from the wagon with his father's pistol over his shoulder and as he ran for Katlin to take cover he scanned the meadow and surrounding area only to not see a soul.

He stopped and searched the area for he knew what he had heard. Then he heard the nicker again. It was coming from down the creek. He suddenly realized it was the young two-year-old Stallion tied over the bank further down the stream in the creek. With all he had experienced in such a short time he felt if for just a second that between the pistol and the horse, their chances were improving. He caught himself wishing Katlin hadn't been there because with the gun and mount in his possession he could have pursued his folks' killers. But he had Katlin so he would have to look after her first.

He with rope from off the bindings of the covered wagon, took what he could tie to the Stud in the way of water containers, grub, and such and then helped Kaitlin up on the Stud bareback for the outlaws had taken his father's saddle and bridle as well.

Even though the young two-year-old Stud was green broke, he caressed and soothed the horse and he calmed. This was a good sign especially with the smell of death in the air.

It was time to go. He would have to return later and bury his folks. What was left of Katlin's state of mind need not be destroyed further.

Quin took hold of the young stallions lead rope then turned to leave this place of death and despair when he saw his father's hat up toward the front of the wagon where he last stood wearing it. Quin bent over picking it up then he looked at Kaitlin for several seconds then he put it on. I only do this to give you comfort sweet Kate. If instead you find offence, speak now.

It offends me not, Kate responded. It was a loose fit. Quin would grow into it in time.

As Quin headed north he stopped when he realized he was coming upon the area where the rider had been shot off his horse. So as he moved slowly closer he came upon the spot but the man was gone.

His father's knife and sheath lay nearby. Quin hurriedly grabbed it up and tucked it in his waist band. Quin now stood holding lead on his father's horse. Over his shoulder was his father's gun and gun belt. His father's knife was now in his waist band and he was wearing his father's hat. He pulled and cocked the gun.

That morning he stood simply as his father's son with dreams and hope of a prosperous future. Now he stood with no dreams and little hope. Yet he was still his father's son. But now his father's son stood with a gun and the determination to use it.

Chapter 3

Dead as Dead Gets

After Quin pulled and cocked the pistol he saw the blood trail heading thirty feet to his right at the foot of a small incline with a rock boulder protruding out and then he saw the toes of the man's boots as he was attempting to slip out of sight crawling around one of the rocks protruding out of the slope.

Quin started toward the man, gun in hand when he suddenly stopped and thought of Katlin, then he turned and looked at her. If for any reason he got killed by the man, who would look after her? Yet he knew he couldn't let it lie. So like the teachings of his father he would have to be smart about it.

He led the Stud and Kaitlin to a spot out of view of what he meant to do and took her down from off the back of the young skittish stud fearful he might jump if spooked, especially from