Seth Ward had been the post trader at Fort Laramie since 1857. During that time he had seen all manner of people pass through the army post; settlers heading for Oregon, gold miners heading for California, soldiers, Indians, trappers, mountain men, and many other opportunists. Most of these he could label as typical, none especially more memorable than the others until they had all melted into a single monotonous hash of humanity. But there was something decidedly different about the dark-haired, broad-shouldered stranger who entered his store on this early October morning.
He paused in the doorway for a few moments while he looked around the room. Tiny droplets of water glistened on his broad-brimmed hat and the roughly sewn buffalo robe draped across his shoulders. The few remaining snowflakes that had covered him melted in the heat provided by the stove and fell to create faint wet spots around his moccasin-clad feet. His right hand held a Spencer repeating rifle, hanging almost casually with the muzzle pointed toward the floor. It was not the man’s combination dress of animal skins and wool that caught Seth’s attention, however, for that was nothing out of the ordinary. Rather, it was the look in the man’s eyes as he surveyed the store. Seth got the impression that the stranger missed nothing in his cursory glance. Two men, a soldier and a civilian standing at the counter, turned to see who had walked in the door. The stranger’s eyes shifted momentarily to regard them before returning to focus on the post trader.
“Good morning.” Seth greeted Tanner. “Look’s like it’s still snowin’ a bit outside.”
“A bit,” Tanner agreed. He walked over to the end of the counter then, opposite the two men. The war was long since over, but he was still a little wary of Union soldiers. On their part, he was quickly dismissed as another of the many drifters who passed through Fort Laramie.
“What can I do for you?” Seth asked.
“Do you have any cartridges for a Spencer?” Tanner responded. Seth replied that he did, and produced a box from a cabinet behind him. He waited for Tanner to say how many he wanted, looking somewhat surprised when Tanner said, “I’ll take the box.” He was even more surprised when Tanner paid him with gold coins.
Pleased to receive the hard cash, Seth said, “You must be plannin’ to start a war. Is there anything else you need?”
“Five pounds of bacon, a sack of those coffee beans over there, and something to keep my feet warm,” Tanner replied.
Seth glanced down at the light summer moccasins Tanner wore. “You might be in luck, mister. I think I might have some boots your size.”
Tanner nodded as if thinking it over before speaking. “I’ve grown partial to Injun shoes,” he said. “I don’t reckon you’ve got anything like that.”
“Reckon not,” Seth said.
Overhearing, one of the men at the end of the bar, a husky man wearing corporal’s stripes, interjected, “You can get some moccasins at that Crow camp up the river. There’s an old woman there who’ll make ’em for you if you’ve got the hides.”
“I was just gonna tell you about her,” Seth said, “but she’ll take a while to make up some moccasins. I’ve got a stout pair of boots just your size.”
Tanner turned to face the soldier. “Much obliged,” he said.
“Shore,” the corporal replied. “When you get done here, I’ll walk outside with you and give you directions to that Crow camp.”
“You think of anything else you need,” Seth said, “you come on back, and I’ve probably got it. I don’t get paid with gold coins very often. You’re only the second one in a month.”
Tanner felt the blood in his veins suddenly go cold. He turned his attention abruptly back to the post trader. “Who was the first?”
Seth shrugged, thinking back. “Some fellow on his way up to Virginia City,” he said. “At least that’s where I think he said he was goin’.”
Tanner could feel his heart pumping against his ribs. “What did he look like?” he asked.
Seth stroked his chin as he recalled. “Tall fellow, taller than you maybe, but he was thin as a rail. Had a dark look about him. That’s about all I remember about the man.”
Tanner stood silent for a few moments, hardly believing he had at last stumbled upon Ike Leach’s trail. Jack Flagg’s advice had been good. “How far is Virginia City?” he asked.
“You thinkin’ about goin’ there?” Seth asked. “You’re talking about two weeks or more, dependin’ on the weather, through some pretty hostile Injun territory. And, mister, if you ain’t ever been there, you’re gonna need a guide. I doubt you can find one that’ll set out this time of year.
Nodding to Seth, Tanner picked up his purchases and said, “Much obliged.”
The soldier and his civilian friend followed him out the door. Outside, they gave him directions to follow the Platte for two miles west where he would find the Crow camp. “The woman you wanna find is Owl Woman,” the corporal said. “She’ll make you a fine pair of Injun boots.”
Tanner thanked them for their help, loaded his purchases onto his packhorse, and rode out of the compound, his mind still spinning with the news of Ike Leach. Unwilling to waste another day, lest Ike not stay put in Virginia City, he was inclined to set out right away for Alder Gulch. He had two problems, however, the most important being that he didn’t know the way to Alder Gulch. The second problem, only slightly less important than the first, was his feet were cold. Anxious as he might be, he knew that he couldn’t set out blindly for a place where he’d never been, especially this time of year. And he knew the folly of starting out ill-equipped to handle the cold. So, he reluctantly decided, the first order of business was to acquire warm footwear.
Following the directions given him by the corporal, he had no trouble finding the Crow village. Owl Woman turned out to be an old woman who lived with her son and his wife. She made moccasins in exchange for hides, trinkets, and money, whatever she could trade for. When Tanner showed her the buffalo hide he carried on his packhorse, she said, “I make you fine boots, warm, come up to here.” She touched his leg below his knee. “Two days,” she said in answer to his next question.
“Two days?” Tanner questioned. “You mean you’re gonna soften this hide and make up a pair of moccasins in just two days?”
She explained that she would take his hide to replace one she was already working on for a pair of boots for her son. Some minor adjustments could be made to change the size, and her son was in no hurry for his boots. Tanner considered this a real piece of good fortune, and the price was agreed upon—his buffalo hide and three dollars, paper.
Riding back toward the fort, he thought about Seth Ward’s advice, that he would need a guide to take him to Virginia City. I just might know one, he thought, smiling. Jack Flagg had been careful to give him exact directions to his friend’s saloon. The little man might have already been thinking that Tanner would need a guide. He couldn’t imagine why the curious old man would want to go. Maybe he was wrong. We’ll find out, I reckon.
As he guided the gray along the bank of the river, he decided he might as well start looking for a place to camp for a couple of days while he waited for his new moccasins. The path along the river dropped sharply as it doubled back around a large cottonwood that leaned out over the water. Rounding the trunk of the tree, Tanner pulled up sharply when he was suddenly confronted by a horse and rider blocking his path. Startled to find a pistol drawn and pointing at him by a man with a bandanna masking his face, he started to reach for the rifle in his saddle sling.
“I wouldn’t if I was you,” the man warned. “If you don’t wanna die, you’d best just set peaceful there.” The man nudged his horse up closer, the pistol pointing directly at Tanner’s face. “Now, let’s take a look in them saddlebags. Is that where you hide them gold coins? You could save me the trouble of tearin’ up your whole outfit if you just tell me where you got ’em hid.”
Feeling like a fool for being careless, Tanner quickly evaluated his situation. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but he had a strong hunch that it was the same man who had been talking with the soldier in the post trader’s store, who had given him directions to the Crow camp. The thought of it made him angry, with no thought of fear. With a pistol in his face, he knew there was no time to pull his rifle from the sling. He was wearing a revolver on his belt, but he wasn’t sure he could draw it fast enough to get a shot off before his assailant blew his brains out. Still, he was unwilling to meekly let this son of a bitch have his way. After what seemed a long standoff, Tanner dropped his hand to rest on the handle of his pistol.
“Get your hand off’n that pistol!” the man exclaimed. “I’ll shoot you down right now.”
Ignoring the threat, Tanner spoke, his voice calm and steady. “Mister, you’re gonna have to earn anything you steal from me. You might shoot me, but I can pull this pistol in less than a half a second. So I’m gonna kill you, even if I’m dead when I pull the trigger. You might wanna think about whether it’s worth the risk or not.”
His unexpected threat caused the man to hesitate. Tanner thought his bluff might have succeeded, but it was only for a moment, for the next sound was a voice behind him. “I expect you’d best get your hand off of that pistol. I don’t think you’re fast enough to stop a bullet in your back. Now get them gold coins outta them saddlebags like he told you.”
Damn, Tanner thought, knowing he had no chance to escape this standoff with no harm done. He was reluctant to give them what they demanded, but it wasn’t worth risking his life. Still, the very thought of being robbed by two surly scoundrels galled him no end, and they might decide to shoot him anyway. He was seriously thinking of telling them to go to hell, and letting the chips fall where they may. Another voice made his decision for him. “I got this Remington Rollin’ Block buffalo gun sighted right between your shoulder blades, mister. So if the shootin’ starts, this .50-70 cartridge is gonna leave a right sizable hole in your back.”
Even under such tense conditions, Tanner couldn’t suppress a hint of a smile, for he recognized the twang in the voice immediately. “Is that you, Jack?”
“I reckon,” Jack Flagg replied. “You wanna go ahead and shoot these low-down snakes, or let ’em go?”
“I’d just as soon shoot ’em both,” Tanner replied. He could see the confusion and uncertainty in his assailant’s face. “I’m feelin’ pretty generous today, though. Maybe we’ll leave it up to them, live or die.”
There was no indecision in the second highwayman. With the threat of Jack’s buffalo gun at his back, he said, “I’ll pick livin’.” He wheeled his horse and retreated at a gallop.
Still reading the eyes of the man facing him, Tanner could see the confusion turn to panic. Instinct dictated his next move. Lunging sideways, Tanner suddenly dived from the saddle, just in time to avoid the pistol shot that whistled through the air where his face had been a split second before. As he hit the ground, fumbling for his pistol, he heard the solid report of Jack’s buffalo gun, followed by the thump of the body on the ground. He was on his feet in seconds, his gun drawn, to find the man dead, a sizable hole in his chest.
A few seconds later, Jack rode up beside him. Looking down at the body, he said, “Damn fool.” Then he looked at Tanner. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” Tanner said, rubbing his backside. “Except where I landed on that damn root.” He looked up at the curious little man. “Much obliged,” he said. “Where’d you come from, anyway? I was in a helluva fix back there.”
“I’d say you was,” Jack said with a chuckle. “I was havin’ a drink with that friend of mine, and I happened to overhear them two fellers talkin’ about some stranger buyin’ stuff at the sutler’s store with solid gold coins. I couldn’t hear all their conversation, but I got enough to know they wasn’t up to no good. You were the only stranger I knew that had just rode in, so I figured I’d best follow them two to see if they was up to somethin’.” He grinned wide. “Good thing I did, warn’t it?”
“I reckon,” Tanner agreed. He reached down and pulled the bandanna away from the dead man’s face. It was the same man who had been talking to the corporal in the store.
“Has he got anythin’ on him that’s worth anythin’?” Jack asked, and dismounted to see for himself. As he relieved the corpse of gun belt and weapon, he paused to ask, “Can you really pull that pistol of your’n in less than half a second?”
Tanner laughed. “Hell no. I haven’t any idea how long it would take me to pull it. More like a half an hour, I guess. I’ve never had reason to time it.”
“I figured you was just tryin’ to bluff that feller.”
“I suppose we oughta drag him outta the path,” Tanner said. “We can dump him in that gully over there. I doubt if anybody’s gonna miss him.”
After the body had been disposed of, Jack took a long look at the deceased’s horse and decided it was little more than buzzard bait. “Saddle ain’t worth much, either,” he said. “Might as well leave it here, and let the horse go free.” Neither man felt any guilt over salvaging the dead man’s property. There was no sense in leaving any useful items for someone else to find. “What did you find out about that man you’re huntin’?” Jack asked when they were ready to leave.
“Like you figured,” Tanner replied. “Leach came through here, all right, headed for Virginia City.”
“That a fact?” Jack said. “How come you ain’t on your way to Montana?”
“I’m havin’ me some warm winter boots made. Then I’ve got to find a guide who knows the country.” Suppressing a smile, Tanner waited for Jack’s response.
“Hell, don’t nobody know the country between here and the Judith better’n me,” Jack proclaimed. “I hunted elk in Alder Gulch before they ever stuck the first pick in the ground, camped on Alder Creek and Stinkin’ Water Creek before folks ever started tearin’ up the soil in Daylight Gulch. Hell, when I warn’t huntin’, I picked gooseberries, and serviceberries, and chokecherries on the sides of the gulch. Lost a horse one year at Daylight Gulch—stepped in a stripped badger hole and broke his leg. Had to shoot him.”
“I know you know the country,” Tanner interrupted, lest the old-timer go on forever, “but you’re goin’ back to Denver City for the winter.” He shook his head as if perplexed. “I need a guide.”
“I’d go if you asked me,” Jack quickly replied.
“What about all that talk I heard about you wantin’ to winter with the Arapaho? I remember you said it was a bad time to start for the mountains. What changed your mind?”
Jack shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t know.” Then he flashed a wide grin. “I just figured somebody oughta look out for you.” In his heart, he didn’t really know why he was eager to go with Tanner. He just had a feeling that he was getting ready to die every winter he gave in to the lure of a warm tipi in an Indian village. If he had delved deeply enough into his soul, he might have admitted that he was lonely, a lonely old man facing the end of his life. In Tanner, he saw courage and determination, and he felt a strong need to be part of it.
“A lot of folks would tell you it’s the wrong time of the year to head up that way,” Tanner reminded him.
“Hell, I’ve wintered up that way before,” Jack replied. “Bitterroots, Bighorns, Wind River. Besides, it ain’t even really winter yet.” When Tanner didn’t respond right away, Jack added, “You wouldn’t have to pay me. I’ll go for nothin’.”
Tanner smiled. “How ’bout we go as partners, and I’ll pay for whatever we need as long as the money holds out.” Jack’s wide grin more than adequately showed his gratitude. They shook hands on it.