Chapter 1

The dry hot wind blew the rope in a circular motion above my head. Around and around the branch and leaves and sky in the background. My neck burned and I needed to breathe. I needed to use my hands. They wouldn’t move.

I needed air!

A face inserted itself between me and the rope and sky. It was fuzzy and out of focus. Hands were suddenly at my throat. I wanted to grab them but my hands wouldn’t move!

Suddenly I could breathe! I coughed and gagged and inhaled.

I inhaled again, feeling like I was filling my lungs down to my boots.

And again.

I let out a breath and coughed and breathed in again. There was a tugging between my wrists and my hands came free. I brought them to my neck and could feel the wetness that was the blood seeping from the skin torn by the rough rope.

I’d been lynched and the bastards had used a new rope that almost tore my neck off.

I should be dead.

I’d been saved.

The fuzzy out of focus face.

Rolling to my stomach I was trying to stand, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I looked up at that face again.

“Stay down, pard. Catch your breath.”

I looked at the face now. It belonged to an old friend. He gently pushed me down into a sitting position where I could breathe and look around. There was a small cart pulled by a donkey and a Grulla stallion. There was no one else in sight. I looked up at the swinging rope and then down to the ground next to me at the makeshift noose.

As the air returned to my body, I remembered what happened.

“Now what?”

“Don’t ask me, I just came along for the ride.”

“John, we’ve been ridin’ together for six years.”

“Right.”

I looked at John Black and just shook my head. We’d been friends ever since the night I pulled him out of the bottom of the outhouse that some yahoos had destroyed while he was inside sitting and doing his business. I mean really, what sort of men wait for a fella to be sitting in the outhouse, then set it on fire, and start shooting it full of holes?

John had made a few remarks about their families ... and their girlfriends ... and the brands they rode for. But he was a little drunk. Well maybe he was a lot drunk. He’d just come off the trail from a wagon train that had been wiped out by the Apache. He made it out, riding hard on a horse with an arrow stuck in its rump, and had come to the saloon to put on a good drunk.

He’d told me the story after I’d pulled him out of the shit and drug him to the creek. It was dark and the only light was the dying flames of the outhouse. Struck me as funny that they would burn down the only place outside the saloon to take a shit.

Once I got him into the creek he cleaned up pretty good and when I got him back to my outfits wagon, he got a change of clothes before we burned his old ones. Sorta like skunk, the smell of the stuff that’s been sitting in the bottom of an outhouse for a few years just won’t ever go away. Hell John even had to shave his head and beard!

We’d just come off the trail having signed on to drive a herd from Oklahoma to Montana. We were dirty and it was a contest to see if we had more dust in our boots or in our throats. All we wanted was a drink, a meal, a bath, and a real bed.

We stopped at the livery and took care of our horses. We took off their saddles and curried them. John was splitting a stack of hay between his black mare and my old Dun gelding.

“I’m gonna get a start to the saloon. I’ll see ya over there.”

“OK, Chris.”

That’s my name, Chris O’Dell. I took off for the saloon but before I walked in the door, I took off my hat and beat some of the trail dust off of my coat and pants. Entering the saloon, I walked to the bar and asked for a whiskey and then looked around the place. There were a few men here and there. One in particular was at the far end of the bar. He looked like trouble.

My drink was poured and it was calling my name when I heard the big cowboy.

“Hey! You lookin’ afraid of somethin’.”

I didn’t turn my head to look at the big man and answered, “Can’t be me, I ain’t afraid of anything in here that I know of.”

“Do you know who I am?”

I took a breath to calm myself and turned around. This was obviously the local tough looking to establish his rank over a stranger.

“Look, mister, I just came of the trail for a drink and a meal. I’ll be gone in the morning. I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble.”

“I asked you if you knew who I was?”

I’d had enough of this yahoo’s prodding.

“Mister, I don’t know you and I don’t really care who you are.”

“That’s mighty disrespectful!” he said and went for his gun.

Did I mention that I was a fair hand with a gun? I palmed my Navy before the fella cleared leather and shot him in the throat.

John Black was walking up the boardwalk to the saloon when he heard the shot. Running to the door he saw his partner standing there with a smoking gun and a man on the floor, spitting blood from his mouth and spasming all over the floor. It seemed that everything was under control so he waited outside for Chris to come out.

Then it wasn’t so under control.

“He shot Brundle. String him up!”

“Yeah. Somebody get a rope.”

Suddenly Chris was surrounded by a half a dozen men with guns drawn. John figured if he went in there and started shooting, the two of them would be lucky to get out with only eight or ten bullet holes in each of ‘em. John stood back as the mob rushed out the door with a struggling Chris O’Dell.

They tied his hands drug him outside but didn’t see his horse.

“Get him on Brundle’s horse!” someone yelled.

So they pitched him up on a horse tied to the hitching post.

In minutes, a mob of maybe a dozen was riding out to a stand of cottonwoods at the edge of town. They swung a rope over the strongest looking branch and put a noose over Chris head and tightened it. Someone slapped the horse and it moved off a few steps leaving Chris dangling and kicking at the end of the rope.

Chris was gasping and jerking, since he hadn’t dropped far enough or hard enough to have his neck snapped by the knot in the rope.

“That’ll do it, boys! Let’s go get a drink!”

With those words, everyone rode off fast to get a good spot at the bar, leaving Chris O’Dell to slowly strangle and die.

“Hi John,” I said when I could breathe and speak.

“Hi Chris. What the hell did you do?”

“Fella in the saloon was on the prod. He drew first, I shot him. His friends decided to lynch me. Where’s our horses?”

“Back in the livery. I heard them talking about hanging you when I was outside the saloon and I figured I wouldn’t have time to get to the livery and saddle both our horses and make a quick rush out of town, so I looked around and saw an old Mex walking that there donkey cart,” he said pointing at the old cart nearby. “I gave him a dollar and told him I needed the cart and the donkey pulling it for an hour or so. I followed the mob and got here after they left and before you were dead.”

“You couldn’t have found nuthin faster?”

“Well I was worried that I’d get to you too late and I’d have to carry off your body.”

I smiled at his thinking process and clapped him on the back.

“Help me up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He gave me a hand up and I stood, still feeling a little shaky.

“Let’s walk back and get our outfits.”

“Why walk? I got a cart and you have that Grulla stallion that you was riding when they hung you. I heard somebody say that it belonged to the fella you shot.”

I looked the horse over. It looked like it was a good horse but it had been treated badly. It had lash marks on its fore shoulders and its tail was sheared off a bit. It hadn’t run off with the mob when they left and was standing on the far side of the tree, away from the donkey and cart, cropping grass.

“You sure that was his?”

“That’s what a fella in the mob said.”

“OK.”

John got in the cart and I approached the Grulla. Its ears pointed straight up as I got close and it raised its head as high as it could reach. I kept walking towards it, speaking in a low voice.

When I was within reach I stroked its neck a few times and let it get used to me before I gently took up its reins. It didn’t pull away or even move its head. With the reins gathered in my hand, I took hold of the saddle horn and put my foot in the stirrup and slowly put my weight to it. The big stallion didn’t object. I swung my leg over and I settled into the saddle. He stood steady and firm.

“Let’s ride, John.”

We set off for the town and went around to the back of the buildings to get to the livery. John tied up the cart where the old Mex would see it after the sun came up. I tied the Grulla up and removed the saddle and blanket, setting them off to the side of the stall holding my old horse.

The Dun gelding I’d been riding on the trail was old and had served me well. As I rode the Grulla, I realized just how weak my geldings gait was getting. Riding him was always like running on a rutted road. I really liked my saddle more than the one that had been on the Grulla so I swapped them out placing mine on the top rail of the stall next to the Dun.

“I’m too sore and too tired to start anything tonight. I’m gonna climb up in the loft and sleep in the hay. In the morning I’ll decide what to do next.”

“Sounds good to me.”

I climbed up in the loft and moved a couple of sheaves of hay together, covered them with my old horse blanket and using my saddle bags as a pillow, I fell asleep.

In the morning I woke up late. The sun was high and I looked around for John. He wasn’t in the loft where his bed had been. I sat up, stretched, and began to scratch the itch on my neck. That was a bad thing to do. I pulled my fingers back and found blood and little pus. The wound was starting to heal and my body was fighting an infection.

I climbed down from the loft and found a water trough that had fresh water running out of a pipe. I splashed some of the cold, clean water on my face and hands, then I wiped a good amount around my neck. It stung a bit so I knew some of the wound was still open. I needed to see a doc. I was looking for a towel to dry off when John walked back into the livery.

“Morning, Chris.”

“Morning.”

“I got up and let you sleep. You were tossing a lot. You don’t normally do that, so I figured you needed the sleep. I saw your neck bleeding a little so when I got up I walked around town and found a doc and a café. He can fix up your neck and then we can have breakfast, well actually lunch, and plan out the rest of the day.”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, Chris, it’s almost eleven in the morning. By the time you see the doc it’ll be lunch time.”

“I guess I did need to sleep.”

“Yup. Come on.”

We walked down the street to the place where the doctor had an office. It was upstairs from the general store. I was looking around and no one seemed to recognize me. I guess the late night cowboys weren’t up or were already working the range. I began to relax. We walked up the stairs and opened the door after knocking.

“Morning Doc,” John said.

“Good morning, is this the friend you told me about?”

“Yes, sir. This here is Chris O’Dell.”

“O’Dell? You related to the O’Dell’s with all the gold in Colorado?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, let’s take a look at your neck.”

“Did John tell you how my neck got hurt?”

“Yes, and we’ve had a bit too much of that. Seems like we have a lynching every couple of weeks.”

As he talked I sat in a big, chair and took off my shirt. The doc pushed on something with his foot a few times and the chair rose higher off the floor. He took a cloth with soapy water and washed all around my neck. It burned a lot.

“I know, it burns. This is going to burn more. It’s called hydrogen peroxide. It’s a weak acid and it eats away infected tissue and dead skin.”

He began to apply the medicine and it was cold and it smelled funny but it only burned a few times. After several minutes, Doc washed the wound that circled my neck with more soap and water. This time it didn’t sting or burn, much.

“That looks good. I’m going to apply a salve to it and then wrap it with a clean bandage. How long are you going to be in town?”

“I don’t know Doc. I just got in yesterday and got hung.”

“Right, but you killed Seth Brundle. He was the local gun hero. Some folks are going to look at you with fear, others with respect. Some friends of his might want to finish the job they started.”

“Well I hope not. When we’re done here I’m going to the café and eat all the food I can get. Then I’m going to get a room and a bath.”

“That might be a problem but whether it is or not, I’m going to give you some extra salve and clean bandages. Wash your neck tonight, apply the salve, and replace the bandage with the clean one. See me tomorrow if you can.”

“What do I owe you Doc?”

“A buck and six-bits should do it.”

I paid him and shook his hand before John and I walked down the stairs and over to the café he’d found.

John and I walked into the café and took a seat. I nice lady came to the table and offered us an omlette of eggs, bacon, peppers, and onions.

“I’ve never had an omlette. Heard of them though,” John said. “I’m good for one.”

She smiled and made a note on a small pad of paper.

“And coffee, please,” I added.

“Yes, sir.”

She walked away and John and I sat in silence for several seconds. She came back with two steaming cups of coffee.

“Did you want any cream or sugar for the coffee?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” I said politely.

She left the table and John said, “Seems like a right friendly town.”

“Yeah, except for the folks that try to hang ya,” I added.

“Yeah, I can see how that would put a fella off.”

When the lady returned with our omlettes she smiled and told us that our breakfast had been paid for and pointed to a man across the room. We looked in his direction but he never turned our way.

“I wonder what that’s about?” John said.

“I don’t know but after we’re done, I’m gonna thank him.”

John nodded and we ate and talked about where to head off to after we left town. We knew of more cattle drives out of Texas and Oklahoma. But Oklahoma had more indians than we wanted to deal with.

We finished, had a final cup of coffee and that’s when I noticed that the man who’d bought breakfast was still sitting at his table. Standing, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a two bit piece and left it on the table for the lady who served us. I looked at John and nodded towards the man. We walked over to his table.

“Excuse me, sir. The lady that brought our food said that you had paid for our meal. I wanted to thank you.”

“Me too,” John added.

The man looked up at John and then me. When he looked at me and saw the bandage around my neck he blanched a bit and mumbled, “It’s the least I could do after last night.”

I stopped to be sure that I had his words in my head, then spoke.

“What about last night?”

He looked fearful and after some hesitation he answered.

“I was one of the men who hung you. Well, I was in the crowd. I didn’t take no active part but I was there and I didn’t try to stop it. As I look at it sober and in the light of day, I don’t know that any one man could have stopped it but I’m sorry I was a part of it.”

I looked at him and spun some thoughts around in my head. That was a big crowd.

“Mister, there was a lot of men in that lynch mob. I don’t think me shooting that Brundle fella would have upset that many men; even if they were all drunk.”

“Well, I was drunk enough to take part but not drunk enough to forget what I did. Again, I’m sorry.”

“My name is Chris O’Dell. This is John Black. Who were the men leading that party last night?”

“Oh no. You’re going to kill them, ain’t you?”

“Nope, but I am going to impress upon them the wrongness of their acts.”

“That means you’re going to kill them. There’s three more of them. Brundle was one of the gang. They make a habit of bracing strangers, shooting them in self-defense, and then taking their outfits. They take turns bracing any new fella and last night was Brundle’s turn.”

“Too bad for him. Now, who are the others?”

The man looked like he was going to piss himself and them pass out.

“Look, mister, I accept your apology and appreciate the meal. But I’ve heard from the Doc that this lynchin business has been going on for a while and there’s no law to stop it.”

“The gang runs off the sheriff every time.”

“And the folks what live here aren’t up to running these bad men out on their own?”

“Right,” I said, the tone of my voice changing.

“Chris,” John touched my shoulder. “I know that voice.”

“What voice?”

“The one that sounds like we’re gonna become marshals or sheriffs or something.”

“Hey, it’d pay a little money that we’d need before moving on.”

“Chris,” John whispered in my ear. “We don’t need the money right now.”

“It would help set things right, John. Seems to me that a man should leave some sort of a positive mark in his back trail.”

“Oh boy,” John said dropping his head and shaking it.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Ed Fitzgerald. I own the general store. I normally never get drunk but I’d just found out that one of the members of that gang has been seeing my wife on the side. I needed to get drunk.”

“So let me ask you again, what are the names of the remaining gang members?”

“Lev Flatts, Royal Knight, and Basil Hayden,” he said the last name with extra venom. “He’s the one seeing my wife and they call him Bass.”

“Thank you, Ed. John let’s go.”

We walked back to the livery in silence. John knew what was going to happen and he wasn’t happy. I’d marshaled at a little town outside of Provo, Utah back when they had some boys what had been cut loose from their Mormon families and turned outlaw.

It took a few months to get things square. Some of the boys weren’t outlaws they just didn’t want to be Mormons anymore. It came down to me squaring off with the elders of the local church and the real outlaw boys.

I got the boys who wanted out hooked up with a cattle outfit in Colorado and left town. I heard that a month later there was a major shootout and most of the outlaw boys and all of the church elders were killed.

The remaining outlaw boys left town and the church elected new elders and that was that. Strange are the ways of the Lord.

Back in the livery, I curried the Grulla stallion and slipped him a bit of corn and made sure he knew that his new owner was also a good friend. That was when I noticed that the horse had no brand. I kept that news to myself but knew it would be noticed by anyone who took notice of horses in general. I’d have to talk to the hosteler about this.

I turned my attention to my saddle and the saddle bags. I was carrying my earnings from the drive and the gold I always had with me in case of tough times. The gold was sewn into the false bottom of the saddle bags and it was still there. So I was all set, unless I got lynched again.

I was just checking over my old bridle and tack when John came in from looking around the area.

“Uh, Chris?”

“Yeah John.”

“You ain’t putting a saddle on that horse,” he said, like he was telling me something I didn’t know. “You ain’t fixin’ to ride him bareback are you?”

“Nope. I’m fixing to go to the saloon and have a drink and a meal. Then I’ll want a bath and to sleep in a real bed.”

“WHAT!? Chris, those are the same folks just tried to hang you last night.”

“Yeah, after talking with Ed, I’m gonna have to deal with that first. You comin’?”

John Black let out a long sigh and said, “I spose so. How do you want to play it?”

“I’m gonna walk in the front door of the saloon and say “Howdy”. You go round back. Take the shotgun you used for birds and cover me. I just want to make it clear that I really don’t want trouble but I don’t intend to be hung again.”

“So you’re not just gonna walk in shooting?”

“Nope. That one fella braced me and lost. The others were drunk. If I have to make a point, I’ll pull iron but I don’t want to. I’d probably have to end up trying to kill half the room.”

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t rush in when you shot that fella. I was outside and figured it would be better to save you after the fact. If those fellas hadn’t rode away when they strung you up, I was gonna start killing them until I could get to you.”

“That answers some questions I had. You good with covering me?”

“You know I am.”

I always put my pistol back in its holster when I’d shot it. It was a reflex to return it as quickly as I drew it. I pulled it out now and replaced the one expended shell from last night. John checked his pistol and shotgun. We walked over to the saloon and John took off behind the place when we got to the boardwalk. When he went around the back corner, I started my walk to the saloon door.

I slipped the thong off my pistol’s hammer and placed both hands on the doors, pushed and stepped in.

The saloon got very quiet, very fast.

I walked over to the bar and asked for a whiskey, my voice still rough from the rope. I took the shot and asked for another. I set it on the bar and turned to see all eyes on me.

“Boys, you hung me. Not the way to make friends with a stranger. Now, I said before that I wasn’t looking for trouble. I didn’t want to kill that fella,” I said pointing at the stain still on the floor. “Now I figure that I don’t want to shoot y’all and y’all don’t want to get shot and die. So what’s it to be?”

“You killed Brundle,” said a man that I recognized as one of those that hung me.

“Yup, do I need to kill you?”

“Um ... no,” he said quietly.

“Good. My partner and I had been on the trail a long time. We just wanted a drink, a meal, a bath, and a bed. If you have a problem with that, tell John. He’s the fella by the back door with the shotgun aimed at you.”

Everyone turned, as one, and saw my tall smiling friend and his gun. I turned to the bartender.

“I thought I smelled grub when I was in here earlier. Is any food still available?”

“Yes sir. We have elk stew and biscuits.”

“And baths?”

“No sir but we got the fixin’s so you can wash up real good.”

“And a bed?”

“Well, that might be a problem. All the rooms belong to the girls.”

“OK. Let’s take one thing at a time,” I said turning to the men in the saloon. “First, anyone wanna finish off what Brundle started?”

Everyone shook their heads. Then three men walked into the bar. It was the members of the gang who had previously hung me.

“I recognize you three from the lynch mob. I want you to know that if there IS any trouble, I’ll make sure to kill you three first. OK?”

The three men looked shocked.

“Now which of you three are Lev Flatts, Royal Knight, and Basil Hayden?”

“I’m Bass Hayden and I don’t think I like the way you’re talking about me and my friends.”

I turned to face him straight on.

“I’m told that you three have been at the center of the lynchings here in town.”

“Now who would have said that about my friends and me?” He laughed as he again emphasized that the three were together.

“It doesn’t matter. The fact is that your pard braced me and lost. You put a rope around my neck and tried to hang me and failed. Now who wants to see who dies harder?”

His two friends stepped up and sided him. They were shoulder to shoulder and that made them an easy target and would slow the draw of two of them. Behind them no one moved to aid them; most behind them quietly got out of the way. I looked at the three of them and smiled.

“Boys, I sort of knew you didn’t have the cojones to face me fair. That’s why I brought a friend this time. Hi John!”

“Hi Chris!” John said having run from the back door to stand behind the three just inside the front door.

Everyone turned their heads again to look at who was speaking.

“Now John there is the man who saved me from the rope. We’ve been pards for many years. So he wants a piece of the men ... excuse me, the cowardly bastards, that braced me and then hung me. So, I’m gonna kill Bass. He’s gonna kill one of you others and I’m going to shoot the third. Now you two boys decide which one of you gets John and which one gets me.”

My eyes never left Bass Hayden and when he turned his face back to me from John, he knew it was time. He drew.

I shot him, putting one just above the middle button of his vest.

John shot Lev Flatts on Bass’ right as he was reaching for his pistol and Royal Knight threw his arms up in the air and screamed, “DON’T SHOOT!”

“Alright Royal,” I said, aiming at his chest. “I came in here to have a drink and a meal. If you’re still in town when I’m done, I’m going to kill you. And Royal, if I was you, I wouldn’t move slow. I already had the drink.”

Royal Knight slowly reached down to his pistol and put the loop over the hammer and then he quickly walked to the stairs and ran up to one of the rooms. I looked at John who was going through the pockets of the two dead men on the floor. He took off their gun belts as well.

“Chris, there’s about ten dollars here and these pistols are fairly good. We can get some money out of them.”

“Does anyone here know who might want to buy a couple of slightly used outfits?” I looked around the saloon as I spoke.

One fella raised his hand and spoke timidly.

“Sir? The undertaker will do that.”

“The undertaker?”

“Yes sir.”

“A town this small has an undertaker?”

“There’s been a site of hangings and shootings over the past year. He’s been making a good living.”

“Well hopefully that’s over with now. Unless some of you figure to fill in these boys places.”

No one moved.

“Now look. I know some of you were drunk the other night and went along with the lunching as a part of the mob. Lynching a man, especially an innocent man is the lowest thing a person can do. I don’t intend to do away with every man in that bunch. John and me just came into town for a drink, a meal, a bath, and a bed. That’s all we want now and then we’ll leave.”

Everyone seemed to relax and when one of the group at a table playing cards said, “I’ll take two.” The game started up again and the whole place went back to normal.

A couple of fellas dragged the two bodies out the back of the saloon and both of them came up to me when they returned.

“I’m sorry, mister,” the taller of the two said. “I was in that crowd. It’s happens so often here no one thinks anything of it anymore.”

“That’s a sorry excuse for murder.”

“Yes sir it surly is. I’m sorry, sir,” the other man said.

With that they returned to their table and began drinking their beer again. One’s hand was shaking so bad that he held the mug with two hands so as not to spill any beer. The other fella just nodded and joined the first.

“Mr. Bartender?” I asked just as I spun around and drawing my pistol upon seeing Royal Knight run back down the stairs in the big mirror behind the bar. He flew out the doors with his outfit wrapped up in a bundle in his arms.

“I thought you said the girls had all the rooms,” I continued when Royal was gone.

“They do, sir. Royal was staying with one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Ruby. She’s the redhead looking at you from the railing up there.”

I turned and looked at the woman. She was pretty in a used sort of way. She stood at the railing in her bloomers, wondering what had just happened. I looked back at the bartender.

“Is she going to want to shoot me for running off her man?”

“Nope. She was just sharing her room. Sometimes she took a fella up there when he was sleeping and did him on the bed next to Royal. Same with Lev. I guess they slept hard.”

“Or they liked to watch.”

“Yeah, could be that too,” he agreed with a sort of grinning look on his face.

“Who had the room Lev used?”

“That would be Hanna. The one with the brown hair next to Ruby.”

I walked over to John and he joined me and we walked up the stairs.

“Ruby. Hanna,” I said as we both tipped our hats. “My name is Chris O’Dell. This here is John Black. We’re fixing to be in town a few days. Since we put an end to the men using your rooms, would you be put out if we took their places for a few days?”

“You killed Bass.”

“Yup. I was told he was the worst.”

“He was. He was using the wife of the storekeeper. She had no choice. He was gonna kill her husband and their little baby if she didn’t go along. She’ll want to be thanking you before you leave. You can stay with me. If you want.”

“I’d prefer to not have another man in bed with us.”

“OK,” she said.