No Less Than the Journey (33 page)

CHAPTER 24

The outlaws were aware of the defile at the far end of the canyon and during the night Ira Gottland sent two men to check whether the posse-men also knew of its presence. Both were shot dead as they approached the defile, the sound of the shooting telling Gottland all he needed to know.

It was a cold night but a wagon had reached the posse-men with a load which included blankets. As a result, most, including Aaron and Wes were able to snatch a few hours much needed sleep.

A relief was detailed to take over from Old Charlie, but the mountain-man refused to allow anyone else to use his gun, declaring that sleep was something he could either take or leave. He proved it by wrapping a blanket around himself and keeping up an intermittent fire on the outlaws’ cabin for the whole night long.

The next morning, when coffee and a meal of bacon and beans were being dished out from the wagon, Denver’s mayor, speaking on behalf of the other posse members asked Aaron whether he intended keeping the posse in situ around the canyon in an attempt to starve the outlaws into surrender, or whether they were likely to attempt an assault on the cabin at
sometime. He pointed out that many of the posse-men had businesses in Denver that could not be neglected for too long, adding, ‘We are not trying to wriggle out of our civil obligations, Marshal, but we have no way of knowing how much food and water the outlaws have inside the cabin. They could hold out for days … perhaps for weeks.’

‘That’s true,’ Aaron conceded, ‘but right now I can think of no alternative. An attack on the cabin would be costly in lives –
our
lives – so that can be ruled out. I think we’re just going to have to keep them bottled in and hope they don’t have ample supplies.’

Wes had been listening to the conversation and now he said, ‘I have an idea on what we could do, Aaron. It came to me in the night and I wondered why we hadn’t thought of it before. If it works it would be paying the gang back in kind for what they did in Denver.’

‘Go ahead,’ Aaron said, ‘Let’s hear it.’

‘Well, the stables are attached to the back of the cabin and, with winter coming on, they’ll no doubt be stacked with hay … right?’

‘You mean, if it was fired it would set light to the cabin too? But your idea needs someone to get there and set fire to it.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Wes said.

For a moment it seemed Aaron would raise some objection. Instead, he said, ‘When would you do this, tonight?’

‘Why not today … right away? We don’t need to wait until nightfall because the windows are all at the front of the cabin. Anyone approaching from the rear couldn’t be seen. I could enter the canyon from the defile with, say … a dozen men? They could take up positions close to the cabin with a clear view to either side of it while I went on and set fire to the hay, running back to join them once the hay was well alight. Meanwhile, when you and the rest of the men at the mouth of
the cabin see the smoke begin to rise you could come into the canyon, remaining out of rifle range until the fire drove the outlaws out. They’d be caught in the middle with no place to go. While all this was going on Old Charlie would be where he is now and use his buffalo gun to help out in whatever way he thought best.’

‘It
could
work,’ Aaron mused, thoughtfully, ‘It would certainly bring things to a head – and quickly.’

‘Then let’s give it a try right away,’ Wes said. ‘I’ll go to the far end of the canyon with a few men, picking up the rest there. On the way I’ll stop and tell Old Charlie what’s happening.’

‘Right, Wes, we’re on … but don’t take any unnecessary risks. I know how much you want Gideon – but so do I and it will be a sour victory if anything were to happen to you. Tell Old Charlie his support is going to be critical. He’s to fire at anyone who appears in the cabin doorway. When there’s no stopping the outlaws, he’s to shoot at those most likely to pose a threat to the posse-men.’

Old Charlie took his instructions without showing any emotion, saying simply. ‘Get on and do what needs doing, boy, I’ll be up here looking out for you.’

The posse-men at the defile were, on the whole, far more excited than Old Charlie about the forthcoming action. Their enthusiasm contradicted the generally accepted feeling in Denver that the town’s men would never form part of a posse and hunt down those who lived outside the law.

When Old Charlie saw Wes and the posse-men moving along the canyon from the defile, he began firing at the door and windows of the outlaws’ cabin in a bid to keep the occupants occupied while Wes’s plan was being carried out.

His ploy worked only until the Denver posse-men began to
fan out to cover the sides of the cabin. There was a rifle shot from inside the log-built building and a bullet passed close to the advancing men.

Wes immediately ordered them to drop to the ground using whatever cover they could find in the treeless but rolling floor of the wide canyon.

Speaking to the nearest posse-man, Wes said, ‘That shot must have come from the cabin … but there are no windows at the sides! How do they know we are here?’

‘They’ve picked away the mud between the logs,’ came the reply, ‘Fortunately, the cabin appears to have been well-built, which means there won’t be a great deal of space between the timbers. All that the men inside will be able to do is spot us through a peep-hole, then poke a rifle barrel through and fire without being able to aim properly.’

‘It doesn’t make the bullets any less lethal if they hit anyone,’ Wes commented, ‘Tell the others to pull back to where they can see the cabin sides, but can’t be shot at from anyone in there. I’m going forward to the stable now.’

Wes reached the stable at a run but, once inside, he discovered to his dismay that the back wall of the stable was also the back wall of the cabin! Anticipating that the posse might try to creep up on them from this direction, the occupants had already picked away spy-holes in the mud between the logs – and the outlaws were able to use their revolvers here.

However, Wes had made his way to the stable for a purpose – and he was determined to carry it out.

The hay was stored in a small room at one end of the stables and, although a number of shots were fired at him through the wall of the cabin, Wes reached it safely. Fortunately, the holes between the logs had been made at a height convenient for the men inside to spy through and Wes realized that by wriggling
on his stomach along the base of the log wall he would be below their line of fire and able to place hay against the bottom of the cabin wall in comparative safety, but he could hear the men inside the cabin scraping away at the mud between the lower layers of logs and knew it was going to be a race against time.

Eventually, he was satisfied he had placed sufficient hay against the wall of the cabin to start an effective blaze, especially when soaked with oil from a couple of lamps he found in the stable.

Unfortunately, the oil had a pungent smell that reached the nostrils of the outlaws. When they realized what was happening gunfire from inside the cabin increased alarmingly.

Hastily striking a match, Wes threw it on to the hay. It ignited immediately and when the flame reached the paraffin it ignited with a roar that left the outlaws in no doubt about what was happening.

Wes rose to his feet to run outside, but before he reached the door disaster struck!

One of the outlaw’s bullets hit him behind and above his knee, bringing him to the ground and he heard a jubilant voice shout, ‘It’s the Englishman, Gideon. I’ve brought him down!’

The cry was answered by another voice, saying, ‘Don’t shoot again … he’s mine. When the next shot from that buffalo gun hits the cabin, throw open the door and get out of the way. I’ll reach the stable and finish him off if it’s the last thing I do.’

Billowing smoke from burning hay was filling the stable now and, unable to walk, Wes could only drag himself to a corner. Here he drew his revolver and waited. He was in pain but could think clearly enough. He realized that when Gideon Denton sprinted from the cabin to the stable he would be fired at by members of the posse. Wes would hear the firing and
realize what was happening.

His hope was that if the outlaw made it to the smoke-filled stable, when he entered from the bright sunshine outside it would take a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior.

It happened exactly as Wes had believed it would. He was warned of Denton’s imminent arrival by the crack of a half-dozen rifles, the last of the bullets hitting the stable wall.

A moment later the door was thrown open and the outlaw, gun in hand, leapt inside, looking around him for his quarry.

Wes had his revolver trained upon Denton, but the outlaw was standing sideways on to him and Wes wanted to be certain of his target when he fired.

‘Looking for me, Denton?’ he called.

His words had the exact effect Wes wanted. Denton swung around and Wes fired … then fired again.

Two red patches blossomed on Denton’s shirt a hand’s breadth above his belt buckle and he jack-knifed to the floor.

By the time Wes dragged himself across the stable floor to the outlaw, Denton had succeeded in turning onto his back. He was mortally wounded, but still attempted to raise his revolver and point it at Wes, his expression one of desperate malevolence.

Reaching out, Wes used his own weapon to knock Denton’s gun from his hand. Looking down at the dying man, Wes said, ‘How does it feel to be shot and left to die in a fire, woman killer?’

‘You killed two Denton brothers,’ Gideon gasped.

‘Wrong!’ said Wes. ‘By the time this day is over I’ll have killed three.’

The flames had reached the stable roof now and small pieces of flaming bark were sashaying gently to the ground around the two wounded men.

‘Then do it properly and put a final bullet in me,’ gasped the dying man.

Looking contemptuously at the stricken man, Wes said, ‘You aren’t worth the expense of a bullet, Denton and you might as well burn here as in hell.’

Picking up the outlaw’s gun, Wes threw it to the far end of the stable before crawling to the open door. Once out in the clean mountain air he continued his crawl to a wooden water trough at the end of the corral. Here, with the trough between him and the blazing cabin, he ripped open his trouser leg, bound his neckerchief around the wound and waited for the posse-men to come to his aid.

CHAPTER 25

The siege of the Rocky Mountain cabin by the Denver posse came to a bloody and one-sided conclusion when the cabin had been half-consumed by flames. The door was suddenly flung open and outlaws spilled out through the doorway.

Emerging from the smoke they fired at anyone their reddened, smoke-sore eyes could see – or thought they could see.

Of the outlaws of the Denton gang, two had been killed at the defile during the night and thirteen died at the cabin. Only eight were taken prisoner and of these five were wounded, three of them seriously. Ira Gottland was one of this number, but it was believed he would make a full recovery.

It was a great triumph for the posse, for Marshal Aaron Berryman – and for his deputy.

Left homeless by the fire at the house behind the Thespian Club, Aaron, Wes and Pat were accommodated in the self-contained wing of the Denver mansion owned by a very rich Denver councillor who had been a member of the posse. The accommodation came complete with servants and a doctor called daily to tend Wes’s wounded leg.

During his convalescence here, Wes received a number of messages from well-wishers in the town and letters from Governor Schuster of Kentucky – and his daughter Emma. It seemed the battle with the Dentons in the Rocky Mountain foothills and its successful outcome had made headlines in newspapers throughout the United States and the two lawmen become national heroes.

Aaron also received a congratulatory letter from President Ulysses Grant, in which he asked that his congratulations be passed on to ‘Deputy US Marshal Wesley Curnow’ and the upstanding citizens of Denver who had formed the posse to assist the two lawmen. He added that he hoped very soon to welcome Colorado into the United States of America as its thirty-eighth State.

The letter was printed in bold headlines on the front page of Colorado’s newspapers and sparked off a wave of noisy celebration in the saloons of Denver.

Despite the acclaim received by Aaron and Wes, they did not feel like celebrating. The body of Lola had been recovered from the burned-out house and a bullet hole in her forehead told its own tale of the manner of her ending.

The funeral of the two women attracted mourners from all sections of the town and Wes was helped to the church and cemetery by Aaron for the sad occasion.

Both men felt very deep sorrow about the loss of the two women, but, following Aaron’s example, Wes succeeded in keeping his feelings contained, and neither men spoke of their joint loss to anyone but, as the excitement of the action receded into memory and the acclamation of the citizens of Denver subsided, Wes thought more and more of all he had lost and of what might have been.

He missed Anabelita, of course, but he also found himself thinking of the baby who had never known life outside its
mother’s womb.

In the days preceding Anabelita’s tragic death he had begun imagining what it would be like to have a son to whom he could teach the lessons needed to grow up into a man of whom his parents would be proud. To share with Wes the everyday things he himself had once known.

Or perhaps the child would have been a girl, someone to take his hand in absolute trust when the world seemed too large and beyond her understanding. A daughter for him to watch over as she learned lessons of life from her mother.

Wes had tried to tell something of his thoughts to Aaron, but the US Marshal had his own grief to cope with and, besides, he had witnessed too many deaths of those close to him.

Aaron’s reply had been to say, ‘America has not surrendered easily to civilised settlement, Wes, it has needed to be won and the price paid by men, women, children and even unborn babies has been high. By the time this country is secure the numbers of those sacrificed will be as uncountable as blades of grass in a Kentucky paddock.’

His words had made a great impression upon Wes until one rainy day when it was not possible for him to go out of the mansion, he had limped his way to the Denver Councillor’s library and there found a book of Walt Whitman’s poems on a shelf.

Remembering his time in Lauraville and the poetry that Tessa had been reading there, Wes took the book down. Leafing through it, he came upon a line in one of the poems that made him think of what Aaron had said to him, and of his own thoughts about the loss of Anabelita’s unborn baby.

In words that Wes could never have emulated, the poet implied that in the scheme of things a blade of grass is no less important in its way than the stars in the heavens.

Somehow, for reasons that Wes did not even attempt to understand, the words gave him comfort and a feeling that, in spite of Aaron’s implied explanation that such sacrifices were acceptable in a new country like America, he was right to grieve for the loss of his and Anabelita’s unborn child.

While Wes was still confined to the house with his wounded leg he received a delegation from the mayor and councillors. They offered him the vacant post of Chief of Police, to succeed the late and little lamented Chief Kelly.

Astounded, he at first declined their offer outright, but when they persisted he agreed he would think about it, more with the intention of getting rid of the unwanted delegation than of giving their offer serious consideration.

He wished Aaron had been able to advise him how best to turn down the offer without offending the Denver dignitaries, but Aaron was in Kansas, giving evidence against Vic Walsh.

Ira Gottland had recovered sufficiently to be questioned by Aaron and, aware that he faced being hanged for past activities, he had been eager to broker a deal with the United States Marshal.

Aaron refused to offer Gottland any sort of deal. The most he would promise the outlaw was that when he came to trial, the judge would be informed that Gottland had ‘co-operated’ with the Federal authorities – but only if the outlaw leader disclosed all he knew of Vic Walsh’s criminal activities and associations.

Aaron knew that such co-operation was unlikely to save the outlaw from the hangman’s rope but, desperate to save his skin, Gottland agreed.

Armed with Gottland’s statement, Aaron had gone to Trego, where Walsh was being held by Sheriff Murray and taken the dishonest Cornishman to Kansas City where he handed him over to the US Marshal stationed there.

Walsh would be taken on to Washington to await a decision on where, and under which name he was to be tried.

Returning to Denver, Aaron found Wes in the garden of the councillor’s house using a stick to support himself as he exercised along the well-kept paths of the impressive Denver mansion.

Exaggerating his own war wound limp, Aaron greeted him with, ‘You know, Wes, you get more like me every time I meet you, but it’s good to see you up and about again.’

‘I’m not sure that any similarity between us is a good thing, Aaron – certainly not for me. Folk are beginning to see me as a possible substitute for you. To be honest, I’m flattered, but I couldn’t fill your shoes and have no intention of trying.’

When Wes disclosed the offer made to him by the Denver mayor, Aaron said, ‘Don’t underestimate yourself, Wes, you’ve done a great deal more than many of the State Marshals I know … but you could do a whole lot better than being Chief of Police of Denver, so I hope you turned it down?’

‘I told them I’d think about it,’ Wes explained, ‘but I was just being polite. I don’t want the job.’

‘What do you want, Wes? Have you finally decided that mining isn’t for you?’

‘Yes. To be perfectly honest with you, Aaron – and I hate to say this – you’ve given me a taste for upholding the law. I believe it’s really worthwhile work, especially here in America, where the foundation is being laid for a new and potentially great country. At the end of his working life as a United States Marshal, a man could look back on what he’s achieved and say, “I’ve done something that’s made a difference to people’s lives, both now and in the future”.’

Giving Aaron a wry smile, he added, ‘Trouble is, I’m not at all sure I’m happy with the thought of being a target for every man who carries both a gun and a grudge against the law.’

Looking decidedly smug, Aaron said, ‘I find what you’ve said very interesting, Wes … very interesting indeed. If I understand you correctly, you’re saying you’d like to take a major part in seeing that the laws of the land are upheld, without putting yourself up as a target for every two-bit Western gunslinger out to make a name for himself.’

‘That’s about the strength of it, Aaron, but such work doesn’t exist.’

‘I’m not so sure about that, Wes, all parts of America aren’t like the Territories – and you’ve already done more than most to clean up this part of the country. I’d like you to speak to someone you’ve met before. He heard I was in Kansas City and came along to see me. I think you might find what he has to say of some interest. He’s in the house talking to the councillor right now. I’ll go and fetch him.’

While he was waiting for Aaron’s return, Wes sat on a garden seat thinking about the conversation he and Aaron had just had. Until now he had never seriously thought about what he really wanted to do with his life, but he
did
believe that ridding the world of the Denton gang and others like them was really worthwhile – and he greatly admired Aaron for what he was doing.

While he was thinking he was looking down into a garden pool in which a number of fish were swimming. Hearing a sound, he looked up and was surprised to see David Connolly, the young man he had last seen at the house of Senator – now Governor Schuster, of Kentucky.

‘No, don’t get up,’ the young visitor said, as Wes struggled to rise to his feet, ‘How is the leg?’

‘It’s coming along fine,’ Wes replied, ‘The doctor says that when it’s fully healed the limp should hardly be noticeable.’

‘That’s good,’ said David Connolly, ‘You did a wonderful job up there in the Rockies … you and Aaron.’

‘It was highly satisfying,’ Wes conceded, ‘but you haven’t come here to talk about that. Aaron said you had something to say that might interest me.’

‘I sincerely hope it will,’ David Connolly said, ‘but it is partly to do with what happened in the Rockies. Do you know that I’m married to Sophie Schuster now?’

‘I didn’t, but it comes as no surprise, you two make an ideal couple. Congratulations.’

‘Thank you, Wes. I am living at the Schuster mansion helping to manage the Governor’s estate – you’ve been told he’s Governor of Kentucky now?’

‘Yes, Aaron told me. He’s well pleased about it.’

‘So is everyone in Kentucky, my father-in-law is a popular man who has the welfare of Kentucky very much at heart. He is trying to gather men around him he believes will be able to help him do his best for the State – and that’s why I am here, Wes.’

Puzzled, Wes could not think what he could possibly do for Kentucky, but David Connolly was still talking, ‘Governor Schuster met with Marshal Berryman in Kansas some little while ago and sounded him out about becoming the US Marshal in Kentucky. Marshal Berryman declined because he’s been sent out here to the Territories at the special request of President Grant, but he and my father-in-law had a long talk about what the position entailed and Marshal Berryman left him mulling over a suggestion he made. When news of the annihilation of the Denton gang broke and he learned of the part you played in it, he made up his mind. Governor Schuster has sent me here to ask you to come to Kentucky as United States Marshal for the State.’

For a few moments Wes was absolutely speechless. When he eventually had his voice back, he said, ‘I know next to nothing about the law. I couldn’t take on something like that!’

‘The last marshal knew nothing at
all
about the law. Not only that, he was so politically biased that
his
law protected less than half the residents of Kentucky. Governor Schuster knows you have no political affiliations and you’ve proved your courage and respect for the law. Besides, Marshal Berryman has promised to teach you all you need to know – and says it will be far more than he knew when he was appointed a United States Marshal. You have created a very favourable impression in Kentucky for the manner in which you and the Marshal dealt with the Denton gang, Wes, and Governor Schuster has already broached the subject of your appointment with the President. I might add that a number of Kentucky’s leading families were present at Harrison’s funeral and they are proud to boast of their meeting with you. It would be a very popular appointment, Wes.’

Still recovering from the astounding offer, Wes said, ‘I think I ought to tell you that the main reason I was so determined to bring the Denton gang to justice was because they killed someone I was very, very fond of….’

‘You mean the croupier from the
Missouri Belle
?’

When Wes nodded, David Connolly said, ‘I remember her too – as you well know. She was a fine girl, Wes, the way she died would have roused me to doing something about it – but smashing the Denton gang is not the only feat you’ve performed on behalf of law and order since coming to America. Let me go back to Kentucky and tell Governor Schuster you accept his offer, Wes. You will never regret it – and I don’t think he will, either. He is a good and honest man who will return all the support I know you would give him.’