Chapter 10: Fire & Ice

In front of the hotel I said, “Meet you at the depot.”

Riles grinned, “I hope it’s a big bonus. You and Cayuse earned it.”

Chicago Joe had sent a runner, her houseboy, and asked me to meet her and Crazy Belle at the Castle on State Street. Another bonus might be a possibility, but that seemed especially generous since they’d already given Cayuse and me $200. Well, one way to find out.

As I walked down State, I was still impressed with what the locals called Fun House Street. Those angled mirror-like windows.

Suddenly John Wesley Harmon stepped out of a storefront doorway about 15 feet in front of me, raising his pistol.

As always, time slowed down; I saw everything in an instant of clarity. Knew without thinking the two things I had to do as I drew iron.

I gripped my scattergun just below the trigger guard and reflexively thumbed one hammer back. I whipped it backwards and upside-down onto my right shoulder just as I pulled my Peacemaker from the tearaway holster with my left hand.

I pulled one shotgun trigger and simultaneously shot Harmon in the forehead.

I whirled around to see Varner in a pool of metallic-smelling blood. Dark red, almost black, on the white snow. I’d caught a brief glimpse of him in a Fun House mirror; another back-shooter.

He was still breathing, little bubbles of frothy blood at one corner of his mouth. The blast had caught him on the right side, from the nose on down. His gun — that unique Reichsrevolver — lay beside his shattered arm. I kicked it further into the street.

Three men were peeking out of shops, “Go get Doc Adams. Run.”

We postponed our departure for a couple of days. For one thing, I needed to testify before the Police Magistrate about Varner and Harmon. Cayuse had already had his turn in court describing the Olbaum incident.

To set me up, Varner had held a gun to Chicago Joe’s head until she called her houseboy in to send a message to me. When the kid left for the Lenoir, Varner pistol-whipped her until she passed out.

Varner had publicly hired Harmon to run the crew guarding the Miracle Mine. But we all believed the real reason was to double up on the chances of killing me.

The hearings in front of the Police Magistrate, William Haverford, didn’t take long. In fact, they were brief. And held at night, when no one from the newspaper was there.

Cayuse’s killing of Gil Olbaum had been ruled ‘justifiable self-defense’. The same with me and John Wesley Harmon. While Varner was still alive, no charges would be filed against me for that one either.

It was obvious that Haverford, and probably most of Helena, just wanted the incidents to fade away. And that was certainly fine with Cayuse and me.

George Autry invited all of us to his house for a celebration breakfast. Or maybe a thank-you breakfast. The Gilmore Girls, the Robinsons, Miss Melanie, Cayuse and me.

In any case, it would turn out to be an eye-opening morning for me. I would learn— or be reminded — of the contributions of others.

Autry lived in a small house on a side street not that far from downtown. It was a modest place compared to some of those mansions on the Westside, but well maintained. Painted white with dark green trim fairly recently, probably just before winter settled in.

Autry had a big blue and white speckled coffeepot going and Emma took charge of keeping us refilled. Autry did the cooking himself — generous slices of salty ham fried in a large cast-iron skillet. He dumped a couple of dozen brown eggs into the sizzling fat from the ham and everything tasted as delicious as it smelled. He also added egg shells to the coffee pot, a new one on me.

Emma acted as our hostess. She knew where everything was — plates and cups and knives and forks. Autry watched her bustling efficiently about with some pride showing on his face.

Afterwards, Cayuse and I did the washing up, washing and drying. The Gilmore Girls approved. Then we settled down with the others for more coffee.

Autry looked at me, “Doc Adams says Varner is going to pull through. Which is pretty amazing given the spread pattern of the buckshot. Would you like to talk with him before you leave?”

Riles answered, “No, he would not.” Then she added, “I will, though.”

Autry turned to me, “Just out of curiosity, Flint, how did you manage to shoot both of them at the same time? With Varner behind you?”

“I caught a reflection of a black shape, a blur really, right before Harmon came out of that storefront. I think now that Varner was trying to move into the street so I wouldn’t see him in the window.”

“Yet you somehow managed to shoot him backwards while drawing on Harmon.”

I smiled and nodded toward my scattergun, “No need to aim, not really. He was ten, maybe twelve feet behind me, and the pattern would be big enough to hit him somewhere. And, anywhere on his body would be enough to disable him. If I’d had time to think about it, my concern would have been catching someone else with the buckshot.”

Molly picked up my 8-gauge carefully and pointed it backwards over her shoulder. She put her thumb inside the trigger guard, “Like this?”

Cayuse chuckled out loud, a sound so unexpected that everyone turned to him.

I said, “I tried it that way, Molly. One time, the first time I practiced it.”

“And?”

“Two things happened — I almost broke my thumb and I tore or strained some hand muscles. Three things — I also missed my target which is hard to do with a shotgun.”

Rebecca, “Was that back when you were squeezing that little rubber ball all the time?”

“Yeah, I had to work a little to get my hand-strength back.”

Molly, “So how did you shoot Varner?”

“Cayuse showed me this.” I turned the scattergun upside-down on my shoulder. “See, I can use my finger on the trigger, not my thumb.”

Autry said, “What about the recoil?”

“That was the problem with the first time. But I could put up with some pain if it was a life and death situation.”

“Still.”

“Look, Harmon was easy. He may have a Wyoming reputation, but he was slow, hesitant, barely got his gun up past his waist. Maybe he was waiting for Varner to shoot me. Captain McIntyre told me Harmon was an ambusher, a back-shooter. A face-to-face gunfight is very different.”

I thought back to that moment, “And with my scattergun, Varner was even easier than Harmon.”

Autry said, “And you were wearing gloves at the same time.”

Cayuse spoke up again, “Practice.”

I said, “The most difficult part was the conflict when using two weapons at the same time. To draw fast, you need a light touch. You lose a second or two by gripping a handgun too tightly.”

I thought back to my Fort Laramie days, “An old master sergeant, a dab hand with a pistol, told me to hold it like a bird. Too tight and I’d squeeze it to death. Too loose and it would fly away.”

Autry was listening intently. I’d never seen him fire a gun. And that was the best kind of lawman, in my opinion. On the other hand, anyone who carries a weapon would want to know the best way, the most efficient way, to protect himself.

I said, “With my scattergun, it was just the opposite. The first time I fired it backwards, resting on my shoulder, it flew up and I missed a man-sized target high and wide.”

Autry nodded, “Recoil. That 8-gauge must have one hell of a kick.”

“Fortunately, I’m blessed with some considerable hand-strength. And the key next time was applying the tightest possible grip. To keep the recoil from doing some serious damage.”

Molly said, “Show us.”

I gripped my scattergun just below the trigger guard and pointed it backwards and upside down over my shoulder. My long, thick fingers wrapped completely around the stock, the tips nestling under my palm. My elbow pointed out at an awkward angle as I raised the 8-gauge to my shoulder, but it probably provided some balance as I fired both weapons.

Autry bent forward for a closer look, “So the recoil didn’t break your grip.”

Riles was frowning in concentration; she and her sisters were demons for sopping up information, “So, a light pistol grip, a heavy one on the scattergun.”

Emma picked up my double-barrel and held it backwards, over her shoulder. She knew enough about guns not to be careless. She pretended to hold up a mirror and said, “Buffalo Fucking Bill.”

She winked at me and batted her eyelashes, “My hero.” She smiled at Riles, “If he weren’t my nephew...”

Molly said, “Emma.” Not upset, not even surprised at her sister’s boldness. Probably just thinking it might be a little soon after the ambush to be making jokes.

Riles laughed, “Well you did do an equipment inspection the other morning.”

Emma lay my scattergun back down carefully and held her hands several inches apart. My face felt as hot as Autry’s did when Emma was ragging on him.

Probably to change the subject Autry said, “Anyway that EagleLeague plot was more complex than any of us realized. Richardson said that Varner was actually the one in charge of the Miracle Mine — Olbaum worked for him.”

I nodded; Molly and I had suspected that.

“But that was just a sidebar mission. Varner’s main goal was to kill you, Flint. And that’s why he brought John Wesley Harmon in. Two against one.”

Riles made an angry sound deep in her throat.

I nodded again, “We knew Varner was a fraud when Mrs. Chambers got that Chicago letter from the Pinkerton Agency. They didn’t even know him and hadn’t heard of the EagleLeague either.”

Rebecca said, “I thought Varner said they were worried about them robbing trains?”

Autry said, “That was a lie. A lie to justify Varner staying around. So far as I can tell, the EagleLeague is keeping away from the biggest cities like Chicago. They did get their start in Philadelphia before they started moving west. They must figure the pickings are easier in Helena and smaller places.”

Molly said, “That Pinkerton letter led us to believe Varner was a fraud, but since they didn’t know anything about the EagleLeague, we couldn’t jump to the conclusion that he was also a killer. We did suspect that he was connected to the Miracle Mine, so that could actually have been his only reason for being in town.” She shook her head. “So far as we knew at the time. Right up to the point where he tried to back-shoot Flint.”

Emma said, “Fucker.”

Autry said, “I don’t know this for sure, but I believe the fact that you all were leaving town forced Varner’s hand a little.”

I said, “I thought the same thing. The ambush wasn’t an ideal setup and not just because of those windows. It was too public. Varner would want to do the deed and then get away with it. The whole thing had a hurried feel to it. A little rushed.”

Rebecca said, “What I don’t get is why Varner waited so long to ... to go after you, Flint. He’s been in town for weeks.”

Molly said, “Greed. He was waiting for that Chicago money to come through. The bankers had agreed to provide the funding — $2,000 to start with — but the actual money hadn’t arrived yet.”

Autry said, “That’s what I think too. Varner spent time learning Flint’s habits, his routines. And he got to know Helena right well, all that wandering around he did. But once Patcheye and Stumpy were arrested ... well, your routines changed, and that probably meant all of you would be leaving soon.”