The Cassidy Posse (16 page)

“We know they got off the train at Table Rock,” replied Butch with conviction. “He’s an outlaw on the run. He must be headin’ for the Hole-in-the-Wall.”

“So you don’t know for sure,” said Jack, setting him up like a prosecuting attorney.

“Well, I’d feel a lot better if we could pick up their trail.”

“I have,” said Jack smugly. “Luke here’s little brother Lester was fishing on the Sweetwater yesterday morning and gave a fish to a red-headed man and four other riders. Said the man didn’t even say thanks.”

“Damn,” said Butch. “That sounds like Red.”

“That’s got to be Red,” said Elzy. “Only time that man opens his mouth is to complain. Surprised he didn’t say the fish wasn’t big enough.”

“Was there uh lad about twenty with them?” Mike asked Luke. “One with sandy blond hair?”

“I asked about the others,” Jack assured him.

“He didn’t rightly remember,” said Luke. “They come up on him all the sudden. Rattled the boy. Said a couple of ‘em didn’t look like they were from around here. Said they had suits and hats on like they was from the East.”

“That would likely be those other prisoners he escaped with,” concluded Mike. “They’re still wearin’ the clothes they stole on duh train.”

“He did say they moved into the stream after they left him like they wanted to leave no trail,” said Jack.

“Hell, that’s a waste of time,” declared Butch. “There’s only one way to go. Down the Sweetwater and through Devil’s Gap.”

“What about that way?” asked Jack, pointing towards the mountains to the north.

“Over the Rattlesnake Range?”

“I grew up here. I know a pass. I can save you a good day’s time.”

“Didn’t you feel the wind change early this mornin’?” said Butch. “There’s a storm coming this way. Look at the sky over west.”

“I can get you through those mountains before sundown if we ride now,” Jack assured him.

“That, uh course, means you’re joinin’ us,” said Mike, not happy with the direction the conversation was taking.

Jack shrugged his shoulders and smiled confidently. “Luke and me are volunteering to ride with you. It don’t look like you’re in any position to be turning down help.”

“Why would you want to do that?” asked Elzy. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Jack says we’ll be famous if we catch this guy,” Luke explained innocently. “There’ll be reporters and everything.”

“Luke, would you just shut up and let me do the talking,” said Jack.

“Elzy and me don’t want nothing to do with reporters,” said Butch.

“We got reputations to protect,” declared Elzy. “We can’t be written up in a newspaper as part of a posse. Why, we’d never be accepted in any self-respecting den of thieves again.”

“Well, enough jaw-bonin’,” said Butch. “You say you can save us a day’s ride. That will put us right on Ole Red’s heels. Besides, you’re not gonna sell those horses unless we let you come. Am I right?”

“Hell, it’s the Cassidy posse. I’m the only real Cassidy here.”

“It ain’t my posse,” Butch corrected him. “It’s Lieutenant McGhan’s.”

“Well, folks ‘round here never heard of Lieutenant McGhan but they’s heard of Butch Cassidy,” said Luke, “and there’re calling it the Cassidy Posse.”

Elzy, always appreciative of the ridiculous, began laughing as he slipped through the corral fence and began to saddle the fresh horses. “You got the cattle men declaring themselves to be the law and heading for Buffalo to lynch the duly-elected sheriff. Why wouldn’t you want to ride right into the middle of it with a posse led by an outlaw?”

“It ain’t my idea,” Butch said, walking towards the corral to assist Elzy. “Only reason me and the laughing boy are here is we can get you into the Hole-in-the-Wall. If we move fast maybe we can get them before they get that far and save me some embarrassment. I ain’t never gonna be able to go back there if they figure out I brought the law in.”

“It’s an honor among thieves thing,” Elzy assured them.

“The sun’s rising in the sky,” Butch said as he pulled the girth strap tight on the last horse. “We got everything. Time to move out.”

“We got enough grub if we get stuck in the mountains?” Luke voiced his first concern.

Mary wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and looked towards the forbidding mountains to the north. She went into the house and returned with a pair of boots and a fur hat that looked like it was fashioned out of an entire buffalo head. She caught Mike as he was about to mount his horse and drew him aside.

“Mike, I noticed you have street shoes on. You can’t ride into those mountains like that. These were my father’s. They look like they would fit you.”

“Ah, I can’t take yer father boots.”

“Please don’t be stubborn,” she said quietly, “and wear this hat. That Bowler you’re wearing doesn’t protect you. You can lose your ears to frostbite. You’ll need these in the mountains. My brother’s promise to get you through the mountains by sundown is probably a little optimistic.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll tie a scarf around my hat when we get out in the country.”

She looked at him for a moment with a troubled look on her face.

“Okay,” Mike conceded. “I’ll wear the boots.” He unlaced his street shoes and put on the well-worn boots. “I’ll give them to yer brother tuh bring back.”

“No, you can have them,” she said, stuffing his street shoes in his saddlebag. “I have no need of them.”

Mike mounted his horse and looked down at Mary. “Well, thank you. I wish I had sumthin’ tuh give yuh in return. You can keep that useless nephew of mine.”

She laughed. “I think it’s much too quiet out here for Patrick. He was definitely born for the big city.”

“How about me, Mary? Am I born fer the big city?”

“Probably,” she said with a shrug. “Anyhow, I’m sure Patrick is going to be very entertaining to have around for a few weeks. I’ll invite several of the local women over so he can enthrall us with tales of Chicago.”

“Damn it, let’s move,” shouted Jack. “She gonna be bringing out Indian blankets next if we don’t get out of here.”

Mike kicked his horse and moved him alongside Jack’s black stallion. He grabbed the horse’s bridle to hold it still and grabbed Jack by the coat collar. “Yer gonna have tuh learn some manners, boy, if yuh want to ride with me.” Jack jerked the head of the stallion and he pulled away from Mike’s grip. He wheeled the horse around defiantly and headed for the Rattlesnake Range. Butch and Elza spurred their horses and followed at a canter.

“He’s not a man to mess with,” concluded Elzy.

“Now that’s a good thing for a jasper like yourself to figure out,” said Butch.

Mike circled his horse around Mary and tipped his hat good-bye in the style of a true cowboy.

“Be patient with him, Mike,” she said with an anxious smile.

He returned her smile and kicked his horse into a gallop to catch up with the others.

The posse moved east on a well-worn trail along the Sweetwater River. It was forged and hardened by thousands of hopeful pioneers moving west. Jack remained in the lead with his friend Luke not far behind. A few yards behind him, Butch and Elzy rode side-by-side as they moved through a morning fog that had settled along the banks. Butch’s head turned frequently as he was keeping his eye on the swishing tail of the black stallion ahead of him while watching the hard-headed Chicago cop bring up the rear. Mike would catch up as soon as he cooled down, Butch figured, but he didn’t want to lose him in the fog. They already had left too late, so they could not spare any time backtracking. It was a relief when they rode out of the fog and Mike decided to join them. He reined in alongside Butch because Elzy tended to annoy him.

“You know your ridin’ on history here, Lieutenant McGhan,” said Butch, trying to make conversation.

“How’s that?” asked Mike indifferently.

“We’re on the Oregon Trail,” said Butch, pointing to the parallel tracks that stretched out into the distance. “See those ruts that your horse is walking in? Took a lot of wagons to make them that hard. Thousands of families moving west with kids, dogs and everything they owned. Lookin’ for somethin’ better.”

“Yuh seem tuh know a lot about this trail,” Mike observed, still keeping his eye on the black stallion in front of them.

“Well, my people traveled over it but they weren’t headin’ for Oregon, they were going to Utah. Course they didn’t know it at the time.”

“They didn’t know where they were goin’?”

“Naw, they were waitin’ for ole Brigham Young to pick the spot.”

“You’re uh Mormon,” said Mike, sounding surprised.

“Well, I was raised one, but I sort of got away from the church.”

“I guess yuh got a long ways away,” said Mike. “You’re uh known outlaw.”

“But he’s never killed anyone,” Elzy chimed in across Butch’s saddlehorn. The loquacious cowboy did not like to be left out of any conversation.

“I dun’t know if that’s a blessin’ with what we’re going up against,” said Mike.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Butch assured him. “If it ever comes down to it, I’ll pull the trigger. There’s just no reason to kill a man if it can be avoided by good planning.”

“Butch believes in surprise,” said Elzy. “He likes to have the drop on them before they even think about going for their guns.”

“Well, I’m on the right side of the law now, so if I have to plug somebody, maybe the Man up above will take that into account.” He cocked his head and gave a sidelong glance towards the heavens.

“The law,” sneered Elzy. “After all the politicians butcher it, it becomes a big bloated carcass. You get a lawyer and push it on top of the other guy and suffocate him before he does the same to you. Look what’s happening up in Johnson County. Who’s the law there? You got a bunch of rich cattlemen taking the law into their own hands while the Governor looks the other way. Why? Cause their money put him in office. Now they hired a bunch of Texas assassins to do the dirty work and they call them regulators. On the other side you got a duly-elected sheriff supported by a bunch of small time cattle thieves. Who’s the real law?”

“I been an offeecer of duh law fer ten years and I ain’t never heard ov uh regulater,” Mike replied. “So duh law is the duly elected sheriff and duh law is duh law.”

“Bullshit,” Elzy shouted, leaning forward to get around Butch. “The law is with who has the most guns and that’s usually who has the most money. The law is a maverick. It’s for whoever put their brand on it last.”

“Hey, look up there,” said Butch. He was tired of being the man-in-the-middle. “You see that flash of white? A mulie just run up that hill.”

The observation of a small mule deer bounding up the hill quickly took Elzy’s mind from the philosophical to the practical. The animal tried to hide behind some greasewood, but its long ears stuck up over the plant and gave its location away.

“Some venison would go good tonight,” Elzy concluded. “All we got is hardtack and beans.”

“Yeah,” said Butch. “What if a snowstorm catches us in those mountains like that Donner party? We’ll end up gnawing on each other. You’d better go shoot that critter before she decides to go over the hill.”

“Good idea, Butch, but you outah go. You’re the best rifle shot. Besides we don’t have time for me to butcher it. You’re a butcher by trade.”

“I’ll tell you what. You hunt her and I’ll butcher her. She ain’t very big. You can throw her over your horse and catch up to us in no time.”

“What ever yuh do,” said Mike, “be quick about it.”

“Okay,” Elzy conceded, pulling his Winchester from its scabbard.

“The winds coming over the top of the hill, so if you ride into the little stand of trees along the river, you can probably sneak close enough to get a decent shot.”

“Damn it, I know I got to be downwind,” Elzy protested. “Don’t tell me how to hunt a deer. If you’re so smart, you do it.”

“Okay, okay, just be careful. You don’t know what spooked it out of the trees.”

“We spooked her out of the trees with all our yakkin’,” said Elzy.

“I don’t think so,” said Butch.

“Why’d we stop!” shouted Jack. He and Luke had doubled back to see what the holdup was.

“Elzy here is just gonna pick us up some fresh meat for the road,” said Butch.

“The hell he is!” declared Jack. “We’re crossing the river and going north from here. Out of the valley through that break in the cliff up there. Then right between those two peaks. I’m the only one that knows the pass and nobody’s leaving the posse now.”

Such pronouncements by people of dubious authority rankled Elzy’s free-spirited nature.

“To hell with you,” he shouted at Jack. “Nobody put you in charge.”

“Well, he’s right, Elzy,” Butch conceded. “Probably best we stay together.”

“You don’t think I can kill that deer and find your trail again?” Elzy shouted at Jack. “That damn twitchy stallion you’re riding makes enough tracks for ten horses.”

“Elzy, you were right the first time,” said Butch, suddenly wheeling his horse around and pulling his Winchester. “I’ll go kill the damn deer and butcher her where she falls. That’s the fastest way.” Before anyone could argue with him, he whipped his pony and rode towards the trees along the river.