Duel at Low Hawk

The farther Boot rode on the trail to Okmulgee, the angrier he became. With each mile traveled since killing the two Creek lawmen, his suspicions increased. It was getting along in the afternoon, and since leaving the hills and the end of the game trail he had followed, he had found not one track to indicate Lilly had passed this way. He thought back about Lilly’s aunt and uncle. They said she had slipped away in the middle of the night. Now that he pictured it again, Tom Talltree seemed more than a little helpful in pointing out the girl’s trail. The whole scene was becoming clear to him now. They figured he was too dumb to see it. They had sent him off toward the hills. Sure, he thought, Lilly had slipped out that way, but wasn’t it strange that she had doubled back, and he had found two lawmen on his tail? And now he had ridden half a day away from Low Hawk while she was no doubt back laughing at him with her aunt and uncle. He yanked back hard on the reins, certain at this point that they had figured to pull the wool over his eyes. “By God, they’ll all pay for this.” He promptly turned around and headed back the way he had come.

Descending the last low slope before the open grass prairie, John Ward followed the single set of hoofprints along the game trail. Then, unexpectedly, another set of prints appeared, but this second set was headed in the opposite direction, coming toward him before disappearing off to his right. An instant alarm went off in his brain, and he rolled off his horse just as a bullet snapped over his head, followed by the crack of a rifle. He had ridden into an ambush.

He reached up and pulled his Winchester from the saddle sling just as two more shots rang out. Cousin screamed out in pain when the slugs thudded into the horse’s flesh. There was no time to lead the horse to cover as Boot continued to crank shot after shot into the dying buckskin gelding. Finally Cousin gave up the fight and collapsed heavily on the path. Still Boot continued his assault upon the fallen horse, hoping to hit the man taking cover behind it.

Even in the midst of the hailstorm of lead flying above his head, John’s primary emotion was compassion for the buckskin horse. They had been a team for too many years for him not to feel grief for the loss of a friend and partner. His secondary emotion was anger, though not as much toward the murdering renegade who shot his horse as with himself, for blundering into the ambush. He had never expected Boot to turn around and meet him. He scolded himself for not being alert. It had cost him the best horse a man could have. He now directed his anger at the bushwhacker firing from the cover of a stand of oaks some fifty yards up the slope.

Flat on his belly, he crawled up behind Cousin, and raised his head just enough to watch the stand of oak trees. Detecting a slight movement of branches, he ducked moments before a fresh volley of shots erupted. As soon as it was quiet again, he quickly laid his rifle across his saddle and opened fire on the spot where he had seen movement. Cranking out shots as fast as he could, he peppered the bushes near the base of the trees.

Caught in the process of reloading, Boot had to dive for cover behind a sizable oak tree while the brush and branches around him rattled with a rain of lead. “Damn!” he bellowed, already angry over having missed his opportunity to kill the lawman. There was no way he could be sure, other than instinct, but he felt certain that the man he was shooting at was John Ward. There was no man’s scalp he wanted more.

Knowing the deputy marshal had his position pinpointed, Boot finished reloading. He fired two quick shots at the fallen horse, then scrambled away to find cover a dozen yards away. Taking a chance that Boot was retreating to a new position, John did the same, moving away from Cousin to take cover behind a dead tree farther up the hill. There was a brief lull while both men waited to size up the new situation. Boot was the first to break the silence. He rose on one knee and fired three shots before he realized that the lawman was no longer behind the carcass. It was almost a fatal mistake, for he barely got back behind a tree before lead from John’s Winchester shredded the leaves around him.

As the afternoon wore on, Boot was forced to realize that killing this particular lawman was not going to be so easy. Twice more he moved to new positions in an effort to get a better angle on John Ward. Each time, John countered to thwart the half-breed’s efforts to get a clear shot. Finally Boot had to concede that it was a standoff, and it was getting later and later in the day. His mind returned to the thought of Lilly sitting smugly back with her relatives, thinking that the law was taking care of him. She laughed at him while he was out here in the woods, wasting boxes of cartridges. The image was enough to push him to the boiling point. To hell with the damn lawman, he thought. He’s on foot now, and I ain’t gonna waste no more time on him. His mind made up, he did not leave before offering insults and threats. “Hey, John Ward!” he shouted out. “You was mighty damn lucky I didn’t kill you this time. Next time you ain’t gonna be so damn lucky. It’s a long walk back to Low Hawk. By the time you get there, the girl and her whole damn family will be dead.”

John didn’t bother to answer. He waited, listening until he heard the sound of Boot’s horse as it bolted up through the trees. Still keeping a sharp eye in case Boot was trying to trick him into coming out in the open, he moved cautiously back to his fallen horse. What Boot had said was true. It was a long walk back to Low Hawk, but there were other possibilities. If he had any luck going for him at all, the horses ridden by the Creek policemen Boot had killed might still be close to where he had seen them. By his estimate, that was probably three miles through the hills. “Best get started,” he said. He then spent a few moments trying to pull his saddle off Cousin, but the stirrup was pinned under the big horse. Must have caught on a root or something under his belly, he thought. Under different circumstances, he would have worked at it until he could pull the girth strap and stirrup out, but time was short. The saddle was well worn and needing some repairs, anyway. So, taking cartridge belts and his canteen, he took one last look at his late partner. “I’m sorry, Cousin. I shoulda been on the lookout for some kinda trick from that devil.” Then he headed up the game trail, still cautious and alert for another ambush.

He found the horses, all three of them, about a quarter of a mile from the hill where he had first seen them. They had wandered only until finding a stream, and were grazing upon the young grass on the banks. He counted it as a stroke of luck that he happened upon them, because there was not much daylight left in the dense forest by the time he reached them.

Speaking softly, so as not to spook them, he approached slowly. “Easy, easy now,” he repeated. All three stood watching him, none threatening to bolt. He walked up to them and collected the reins. Then he took a quick look at the late Jack Wildhorse. “Damn shame,” he muttered. “Jack was a good man.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering the prospect of taking the body and the three horses back with him. But he knew he didn’t have the time to be strapped with the extra burden. Instead, he looked the horses over to decide which one was the stoutest. There was no question. The big gray stallion bearing Jack’s body was the best of the lot. With apologies to the late captain of the Creek Lighthorse, he slid the body off the horse and pulled it over next to a dead log. Next, he pulled the saddles off the other two horses and laid them side by side over the body. “That’s about the best I can do for the time being, Jack. Maybe that’ll keep the buzzards off your face till I get back.” He considered hobbling the horses to keep them from wandering too far, but decided not to in case he didn’t make it back.

Nightfall found Two Buck and Lilly fording Black Rock Creek some fifty yards north of Tom Talltree’s house. During the entire ride back, there had been no more than a word or two between them. Fairly exhausted, Lilly held onto Two Buck, finally succumbing to her fatigue and resting her face against his back. Though unable to express it, the feel of her body close to him, her cheek against his back, created a state of long-sought contentment for him. Since first coming to work for Wendell Stoner, Two Buck had been drawn to the young girl. Knowing she was too young at the time, he had remained silent about his feelings for her, content to wait until she was older. Now, as they approached the house of her uncle, he wondered if he should speak, unsure if it would be proper in light of the trauma she had just experienced.

“Blue Woman wants you to come back,” Two Buck insisted. “Besides, John Ward said to bring you back here.” In Two Buck’s mind, that should have ended all speculation. Just then, their presence was announced by Tom’s hound dog. Moments later, the door opened and Tom stepped out on the porch, his shotgun in hand. “It’s me and Lilly,” Two Buck called out. Then, before advancing any farther, he pulled his horse up and spoke his mind. “Lilly, when I said back there that I’d take care of you, I meant it. I meant that I’d take care of you always.”

His words were hurried and stumbling, but the message was clear. Lilly was clearly stunned by his rough proposal, unable to know how to answer. There was really no time at the moment. Her uncle was coming from the porch to meet them. Her aunt, having heard Two Buck call out, came out on the porch. “Two Buck,” Lilly hurried to say, “I thank you for what you are saying, but bad things have happened to me. I am not an innocent girl anymore.”

Properly contrite over his earlier treatment of his late brother’s only child, Tom Talltree reached up to help Lilly dismount. As soon as her feet were on the ground, her aunt ran to embrace her. “You had us worried sick, child. You shouldn’t have run away like that.” She paused then as she remembered. “I guess it’s a good thing you did, though, ’cause Boot Stoner was here.” She put her arm around Lilly’s shoulders and led her toward the house. “Never mind about that. He’s gone now, and the main thing is you’re safe. We’ll be ready if he ever shows up here again.”

Boot Stoner’s first visit to the humble abode of Tom Talltree was frightening enough to leave a lasting sense of fearful anticipation in the man. Periodically during the supper reunion with Lilly, Tom would get up and quietly slip out the door, his shotgun in hand, to take a look around the house and barn. He was not afraid to defend his home. His fear was to be taken by surprise, as he had been on the first encounter with the bloodthirsty savage. He could not even count on the dog to warn him of strangers. Half the time the dog would bark, but half the time it would just trot up to be petted. Although his wife seemed to feel the danger from Boot Stoner was now past them, Tom could not release the feeling that the evil half-breed might descend upon them again.

Two Buck sat in a corner of the room, listening to Blue Woman reassure Lilly that her home was with them. His eyes shifted from Blue Woman to Lilly, trying to guess what Lilly’s thoughts were. Occasionally Lilly would meet his gaze, and then hold it for a brief instant before looking away. Two Buck hoped with all his heart that Lilly would not think him foolish for his declaration of devotion.

The hastily prepared supper finished, Blue Woman suggested that it was time for bed. She placed her hand on Lilly’s arm and teased, “Now I don’t expect to wake up in the morning and find you’ve run off again.” When Lilly assured her that she would not, Blue Woman said, “We all need a good night’s sleep.” She looked at Two Buck, who had expressed his intention to sleep in the barn with his horse. “I don’t have any extra blankets, but Tom and I could do without the one on our bed. The nights aren’t really chilly anymore.”

“No, ma’am,” Two Buck replied. “I don’t need no blanket. If I get cold, I’ll use my saddle blanket.” After a lingering glance at Lilly, he bade them all good night and started for the door. He would not admit it, but he was past being ready for bed. Not fully recovered from the bullet wounds in his chest, it had proven to be a long and tiring day for him.

Outside, the two men walked to the barn, where Tom helped Two Buck pull some extra hay down to fashion a bed. After Two Buck was settled in, Tom expressed his intention to take a final look around his house, just to ease his mind. “I hope John Ward catches that son of a bitch,” he mumbled, mostly to himself after saying good night to Two Buck.