The Stranger 

Chapter 7

The Kid

"Come here, Son," shouted John Flood.

The young boy looked up and obeyed.

"Yes, Pa?"

"I got something for you, Robbie.” John looked down at his son. He was a very proud man. Proud of his son, proud of his ranch and proud at what he had achieved since arriving in Laramie, nine years ago. He was a respected member of the Laramie community. When he spoke, people listened. He had influence. He owned a business and a ranch and he had money. He had it all. All except Caroline. Caroline had been gone now for three years. He had raised Robbie as best he could and he knew the job wasn't finished. But he loved Robbie. Robbie was more than a son, Robbie was all he had left of Caroline.

"What is it, Pa?"

Robbie's Pa was a big man, over 6 feet tall. He was 33 years of age and was a hero to Robbie. Robbie wanted to grow up to be just like his Pa and he often told him so. Robbie looked a lot like his Pa. Stocky frame, tanned skin and dark hair. He even had his Pa's square jaw.

"Robbie, you're comin’ up to ten years old now, Son. Why, soon you'll be a man, so it's time you started the learnin’ of bein’ a man. So, I got you this rifle, Son, and I'm gonna teach you how to shoot. How does that sound?"

"For me, Pa?  Really?" Robbie was nearly inside out with excitement. His very own rifle. Now he could be like his pa. "Can I hold it, Pa?"

"Why sure you can, Son,” said John, handing over the gun. "Now, it ain't loaded so you can't go shootin’ anything just yet. But we'll get to that soon enough. First thing’s first. You go ask Martha to give you a cloth and some gun oil and you and me are gonna give this a real good clean.”

"But it looks clean, Pa.”

"That's cos it's new.  But the first thing you're gonna learn is how to look after it. Then you learn to shoot it. You remember when I bought you your first pony? What did you have to do?"

"Had to learn to take care of it before you would teach me to ride it.”

"That's right, Son. That's how a man should behave. Learn to respect and take care of things. Then, when you need things, they will be in shape to do the job they are meant to do. Always remember that, Son.”

"I will, Pa.”

"Good boy.  Now run along and get that cloth from Martha.”

Robbie disappeared into the kitchen where Martha was working. Martha was the housekeeper, and just like Daisy was to Slim, Jess and Mike, Martha was to John and Robbie. They were her family.

Chapter 8

The Marshal

Jack Colty was the town marshal in Denver Colorado. It was a bustling town, and Jack and his three deputies had their hands full keeping the law. Most of their work was not too serious though, mainly drunks and domestics. Sometimes topped up with a robbery or two plus the odd murder. Still, it kept them busy and in pay. Jack was generally liked by the people of Denver. Well why not; he was a good lawman and had a friendly manner. He was also respected by the people because he was a good gun hand. When he said stop, you stopped.

This morning though, Jack was not in a good mood. He had received a letter delivered on the morning stage. Ever since reading it, he had become preoccupied and edgy. He sat at his desk tapping the wooden surface with his fingers. His head turned from left to right as if he was looking for something, but his eyes were blank. What he was searching for, he would not find in this room.

Deputy Blue came in.

"Hey Jack, did you know that old Brian Holmes died last night. Fell off his horse and kilt hisself. Can you believe that? You gonna have to ride out there and make sure Mrs. Holmes is okay and that the body is taken care of.”

Jack Colty did not reply.

"You listenin’ to me, Jack?"

"What?" snapped Jack. "What did you say?"

"Brian Holmes kilt hisself last night by fallin’ of his horse. You gonna go over there to see Mrs. Holmes?"

"Er, no.  I can't. You go. I got things to do.”

"What do you mean?" asked Blue.

"Look, damn it, don't ask me a lot of stupid questions.  I just got things to do so you go take care of old man Holmes and his widow.”

"Fine Jack. No need to bite my head off.”  Blue looked suitably hurt.

"I'm sorry, Blue, but I got word this mornin’ that a relative of mine has died and I got to go take care of things. So I'll be gone for a few days. You and the boys will have to look after the town while I'm gone. Can you do that?"

"Why sure we can, Jack. You just go do what you have to do. And I'm real sorry about your kin.” 

Chapter 9

The Stranger never kidded himself into believing he was the greatest cook but when a man is hungry, food sure tastes better. So while the rabbit wouldn't have won him any prizes, to him it was a feast. Even his mud thick coffee tasted good tonight. Maybe this would be a good time to taste a drop of the whiskey he had bought. He had not had any whiskey for eight years and was nervous that he could not handle it. But then again, nothing ventured… So, he poured a little into his coffee cup and took a swallow. The warmth, as it trickled through his body, was a feeling he had forgotten, and it felt good. Maybe tonight he might get some peace away from the nightmares.  He felt into his saddlebags until he found the tin container with the cigar in it.  Lighting the smoke, he took a short careful draw. He remembered how he felt when he first tasted a cigar; he had been sick for hours, but then again, he had been only twelve years old at the time.

Twelve years old.  It seemed like a lifetime away now.  A lifetime lost.  And only one way to get it back.

He took another drink and another.  His eyes started to feel heavy and he didn't resist.  Soon his world fell into a peaceful darkness of sleep.  A peaceful darkness that would erupt into fear and madness as the nightmares came back.  He screamed like a wild animal and awoke with crazed convulsive movements that shook his whole being.  Leaping to his feet, he again was running backwards, away from the demons that haunted his nights.  Why couldn't he shoot them?  Every night he asked the same question.  Why couldn't he shoot them?  Despite how awful these demons were, they were his only companions.  Was he really so alone now? 

Chapter 10

Slim and Jess spent a couple of very pleasant hours in the saloon and, at around four o'clock, they decided to pay a visit to the town sheriff, Mort Corey.

Slim and Jess had been friends with Mort for about three years. They had a mutual respect for each other and, because of that, Mort usually made them his first choice if he needed help. Tonight they did not know it, but he needed their help again.

"Hi Mort," Slim offered as he went through the office door.

"Howdy Slim. Jess,” replied Mort.

Jess nodded, "Mort."

Mort got up out of his chair and smiled at the two young men. "Just the fellas I want to see."

Jess threw Slim a glance as if to say, we should have stayed in the saloon. "That doesn't sound too good, Mort," he said.

"Now hold up before you go drawing any conclusions, boys. I just need a little help tonight guarding a prisoner. Maybe one of you two could help me. Even better if you both could.”

"How long for, Mort?" asked Slim.

"Just tonight. Well maybe also tomorrow but that's all.”

"I dunno, Mort. We're supposed to take Daisy and Mike back to the ranch tonight.”

"Come on, Slim," begged Mort. "They could stay in the hotel. The county would pay and you boys would get wages. I'm sure you could use them.”

"He's got a point there, Slim,” said Jess starting to like the idea a bit. "And all we have to do is guard a prisoner.”

"That's it,” said Mort.

"Where is he?" asked Slim.

"Back here in my jail. There's a tumbleweed wagon due here tomorrow to take him to Cheyenne.  If it don't get here tomorrow, it'll be here the day after - latest.”

"What do you think, Jess?" asked Slim.

"Well, Mose can take care of the teams and we got nothing pressing. Seems to me to get paid for just sitting around ain't a bad deal, and Daisy and Mike get a night or two free in the hotel.” 

"Okay, Mort," smiled Slim. "You got two deputies.”

Chapter 11

Over at the Sheriff's office, the two temporary lawmen were enjoying a cup of fresh coffee when Mort arrived.

"How were things last night?" he asked.

"Quiet as a mouse. He never made a whisper,” said Jess. "In fact, you could have left him all on his own, he was so quiet.”

"I doubt that," replied Mort while helping himself to coffee.

"Anyway, Mort, who is this guy and what's he done? You rushed off so fast last night, you never told us.” Here was Slim being serious again.

"His name is Peter Travis and he killed three men in a gunfight in Billings. I saw his picture on a flyer and recognized him when he rode into Laramie four days ago. Had him in here since then.”

"Jess looked at Slim then at Mort. "Killed three men. That doesn't sound like a fair fight to me.”

"It wasn't. He had his three brothers help him and they bushwhacked these men and shot them in the back.”

"Where are the brothers, Mort?" put in Slim.

"Well, that's why I need you fellas to help me. I figure at some point they are going to turn up and try to break this rooster out of jail.  I'd have trouble with three of them but, with your help, we stand a chance.”

"You figure they'll come here?"

"Travis thinks they will.  Keeps telling what they will do to me when they get here.”

Slim stood up to refill his coffee cup. "So what do we do, just wait?"

"That's about all we can do. When the tumbleweed wagon gets here, there'll be enough guards to handle things.  I don't think they'll try anything then.  What's that look for, Jess?"

"Well, it seems to me that if his brothers are gonna make a move, it has to be against us.”

Mort nodded. "Guess so.”

Chapter 12

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when Jack Colty arrived at John Flood's ranch just south of Laramie. He had ridden hard and needed two things: A drink and a bath.  But he needed to see John Flood first.

John Flood was busy working on a saddle he was making.  He was good at leather work and he took a pride in it.

Colty rode up to the gates where the guard stopped him.

"Who are you and what's your business, Mister?" enquired the guard in a firm but polite tone.

Colty opened his jacket and exposed the tin star on his vest.

"Anyone can wear a star, Mister, You're gonna have to do better than that.”

"I'm Marshal Colty, from Denver. I've come to see Mr. Flood on private business.”

"Wait here,” said the guard not once lowering the rifle he had trained on the marshal. "Ben, Ben, come here.”

A young looking cowhand came over to the gate.

Ben turned and ran towards the house.  He told Flood about the stranger and Flood headed off towards the gate.

Flood recognized Colty straight away and a cold chill ran down him.  Quickly composing himself, he smiled.  "Why, Jack, what brings you here?"

"I need to talk to you.”

"Let him in, Spence.  I know him.”

The guard opened the gate and Colty rode through.  Once in, he dismounted and walked up to Flood shaking his hand.

Flood looked Colty up and down. "Looks like you been riding all night.  Come on to the house, get cleaned up and then you can tell me what this is all about.”

"I sure could use it and a drink," replied Colty.

Colty gave his horse to Ben.  "Do me a favour, will you, and take care of him."

Ben nodded.

The two men walked towards the house. Colty felt exhausted through lack of sleep and food but he had business and it needed to be done.  Flood felt nervous.

Chapter 13

"The jail is toward the far end of town on the right hand side.  Pete is inside.  I don't know if the sheriff has men in the jail but there weren't any posted outside.”

The oldest of the three took over at this point. "Okay, we wait until it gets real dark and then make our move. Till then, try to get some rest.”

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