Chapter 4

"JOHN! ARE YOU OK?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Shipley. I was in the barn when the shooting started. I got off a few shots of my own. I ain't sure, but I think I did wing him. He sure made a noise like he was hit!"

"What's goin' on? Why would anybody shoot at us?"

"I don't think the shooter even knew that I was around. I'm sure that he was just trying to scare you. He shot at the darkened side of the house where you weren't likely to be. I'll bet it was that lawyer fellow what was trying to get the ranch. I don't mean him, exactly, but a hired hand."

"I'm so glad that you are here. Do you think that he will be back?"

"Not tonight, for sure. If there is a next time, I'll bet there will be more men with more guns. Maybe I better pay a call on this here lawyer and explain the facts of life to him."

"Let's eat the supper I've fixed and talk about it while we do."

The next morning, I did some necessary chores what had accumulated since Mr. Shipley's death. Then I got fully dressed in both my guns and rode to Pine Bluff to have a little talk with Anson Hooper, the lawyer what was giving Mrs. Shipley so much grief.

I got there right after dinner time, but I wasn't hungry. I had eaten some pemmican while I was making the trip. Hooper wasn't in his office, so I went to a nearby saloon to talk to the bartender. I wanted to get some background on Anson Hooper while I had the chance and before I met him.

At first, the bartender was unexpectedly closed mouth about Mr. Hooper, but he loosened up and gave me what little he knew. Hooper was a recent arrival in town, and nobody knew where he came from. He did talk funny, so they figured that he was a damyankee, though they weren't hated as much as they had been a few years ago during Reconstruction.

He showed up in town and started buying up property right and left. He must of had a lot of money, because he only bought, never sold. By now, he had accumulated quite a passel of land, and Mrs. Shipley's ranch was right in the middle. The assumption was that he was acting as the agent for some rich folks up North who planned on running a big cattle operation. This wasn't all that great as cattle country in most of the places he bought, so the locals figured him for a fool and sold out before he could change his mind.

Mrs. Shipley's ranch was the exception, because she had one of the few places with a surplus of water. Mr. Shipley had dug some irrigation channels and had a nice stand of grass in most of his pastures. The Lazy S was one of the very few profitable cattle ranches in the area. I figured that was why Hooper wanted her land.

Along about 3:00 o'clock, Hooper came back to his office, so I ambled over to have a talk with him. He was the only one in the office, so I figured that this was a real good time to have it out with him.

I went in, introduced myself, and explained why I was there. He got right huffy when I told him to leave Mrs. Shipley alone. I told him that her lawyer had proof that those papers he had were fraudulent, and he was going to have Mrs. Shipley sue Hooper for everything he owned if he didn't back off. The threat of the lawsuit seemed to have more effect on Hooper that anything else, and he turned right pale. I also explained that any more trouble at the Lazy S was going to call for another visit from me, and I wouldn't be so reasonable next time. I left him sputtering and at a loss for words as I walked out the door.

I was nearly half way back to the Lazy S when a bullet creased my left arm. A second bullet killed my horse. I was lucky the way my horse fell, because I was able to pull my foot out of the stirrup before the horse fell on that side. That way, I wasn't pinned under the dead horse and not able to move.

I managed to fall between my horse's legs so that his body shielded me from the galoots shooting at me. I knew where they were because of the powder smoke from the black powder cartridges they were using.

My wound wasn't anything to worry about, so I ignored it, but I hoped the shooters thought that it had been fatal. If they did, they might come over to loot my dead body, and that would give me a chance to plug one or both of them. I now needed a horse, so I hoped to get one of theirs'. Anyhow, I laid low, except for pulling my special pistol, and waited for further developments.

Those guys must of been real confident, because I didn't have to wait long. It wasn't 15 minutes later before I caught sight of two men walking toward me. They had Winchester rifles carried in their left hands, so I knew that they figured me to be dead as a doornail. With no gun in the right hand, I figured to have an unbeatable edge when they got close enough.

I was lying on my left side so that my right arm and hand were free to move wherever I wanted. Yeah, it was kind of painful, but I figured that it wasn't as painful as being dead, so I put up with it.

In my right hand, my shooting hand, was my seven-shot, double action, custom-made revolver, so I wasn't a bit worried. I was just anxious to get off my left arm and stop the pain from the bullet wound. I let the men get within 25 feet before I started blazing away as fast as I could aim and shoot. I got both men square in the gut with my first two shots and they plopped on their backs from the force of the blow from that big bullet powered by smokeless powder.

I got up slowly, since I wanted to be clear headed. I was afraid that if I jumped up, I might be a little bit dizzy from that, and I wanted to be sure that I could see if one of the galoots was still alive enough to take a shot at me. That was one of the things Gray Eagle had drummed into me about being a warrior.

Anyway, I walked up to where they were lying and nudged the bodies with my foot. Neither one reacted, so I figured that I was safe from them. Neither one looked anything like the wanted posters I had, so I figured they weren't worth worrying about. They had been lying in ambush on the crest of a low hill, so I went over there see what I could find. Also, I needed to fetch their horses.

I found a couple of canteens and some extra ammunition. One man had been using an antique Henry rim fire (where was he getting the ammunition?) and the other had a .44-40 Winchester. That Henry had to be 25-30 years old, I was really surprised that a professional would be using such an obsolete weapon. Oh, well, some people never get the message.

Their horses were hobbled down at the base of the hill, out of sight from the road. I collected them and the stuff at the ambush site. When I got back to the bodies, I stripped them of the valuables I wanted, but I left the bodies for the scavengers. I did gather up my stuff from my horse and used a rope to drag it off the road and out of the way of any traffic. I had the spare horse carry the loot and salvage, while I rode the other one to the Lazy S.

I didn't get home until after dark, and Mrs. Shipley was right worried about me. I told her everything that had happened, and she cleaned up my flesh wound for me. It wasn't much of a wound, but I was pleased to see that I was going to have a nice scar as a badge of honor. The girls back at the village would be impressed! On the other hand, Gray Eagle would want all of the details to see if I had learned anything from the experience.

The next couple of weeks were uneventful, and I wondered how much longer Mrs. Shipley would want me to hang around. I brought up the subject a few times, but she said that she was still fearful. I wondered if it was more a case of being lonesome, but I didn't mention that. She did ask me to stay long enough to help her gather a few head of stock to sell at Pine Bluff. That wasn't too much of a chore, so I agreed to that without any persuasion being necessary. Mrs. Shipley was a good cook, so I had extra incentive to hang around.