Duel at Low Hawk

A full moon, having traced its journey across the Oklahoma sky, was now settling into the distant hills west of Black Rock Creek. Long shadows reached across the yard between the barn and the house, spinning a dark, lacy web across the porch. In the shadow of a large cottonwood near the corner of the barn, a sinister figure knelt, watching the sleeping cabin. With strokes deliberate and unfeeling, Boot Stoner wiped the blood from his knife on the carcass of the dog at his feet. A soft whistle had brought the trusting hound to his hand to be petted.

He paused where he knelt for a few moments while he sized up the situation. He had left his horses back beside the creek so as to silently approach the house. He intended to take no chance on giving the girl an opportunity to escape this time. With one glance at the barn, he considered taking a look inside, but rejected the idea, thinking of the possibility of prompting a horse to neigh and give him away. He remembered the shotgun that had been propped against the door when he was there before. I should have kept the damn gun, instead of just throwing it in the yard, he thought. But, at the time, he had no plans of returning.

Moving with the silent grace of his native heritage, he stole across the open space between the barn and the house to a window at the front corner. Peering through the window into the dark interior of the cabin, he could make nothing out at first. Then, as objects slowly took shape in the darkness, he realized that his search was over. There, on a makeshift bed of quilts and blankets, was a slender form that could only be that of the girl who had driven his craving for revenge. A thin, malicious smile slowly formed on his dark face as he anticipated the pleasure he was about to enjoy.

Satisfied that she would not escape him this time, Boot slid along the wall and crossed the porch to the other window on the front of the house. Peering in through the window, he was able to make out the forms of two people sleeping together. Like lambs ready for slaughter, he thought and his smile widened.

He moved back to the door and lifted the latch. Pressing slowly against the door, he found that it had been barred. Damn, he thought, immediately angry. He carefully lowered the latch and backed away from the door to consider the chances that he could break the timber barring the door. He was mad enough to try, but knowing he was unlikely to break in before waking everyone inside, he paused to consider other options.

Moving around to the back of the house, he found what he was looking for. When he pushed against the back door, it gave just a hair. It was secured, not by a bar, but by a loop of rope. The rope was pulled tight, with no slack to allow the door to open. Not to be denied at this point, Boot strained against the door until he succeeded in stretching the rope enough to create a crack in the door. Then he forced his knife into the crack and sawed away at the rope until it was finally severed.

With nothing to stop him then, he gently pushed the door open and slipped inside. Moving silently, he went from the kitchen into the front room. He stood for a moment watching Tom and Blue Woman sleeping peacefully through the bedroom door. Their totally helpless condition brought him a satisfying sense of pleasure, and a crooked smile came to his face as he imagined their horror upon awakening. He moved then to the corner of the front room, pulled the makeshift quilt partition aside, and leered at the innocent girl lying there. He started to grab her by the ankle and drag her from her bed, but he resisted, preferring to savor his dominance over her for a while longer.

Very carefully, he removed the clothespins that held Lilly’s partition in place on the rope stretched across the room for that purpose, and let the quilts fall to the floor. Still, the unsuspecting household slept on, unaware of the monster in their midst. Smug in his satisfaction that they were all helpless to resist him, he proceeded to complete preparations for his evil indulgence.Thoroughly enjoying the invasion of the sanctity of the family’s home, he went back to the kitchen and lit a lamp that was on the table. Picking up a chair, he then took the lamp back to the front room and placed it on the floor. He placed the chair by the bedroom door and sat down. Able to see both the bedroom and Lilly in the corner of the front room, he reached down and turned the wick up in the lamp, and waited with his rifle lying across his lap.

The first to awaken was Blue Woman. As the room grew bright from the lamplight, she slowly came out of her slumber. With eyes blinking to adjust to the brightness, she sat up, looking around her, confused by the light. When her gaze finally focused upon the grinning half-breed, sitting watching her from a chair propped against the doorway, she immediately started, then froze. She slowly reached back and prodded her sleeping husband. “Tom, wake up,” she gasped.

Tom stirred then, hastened by the sound of Boot’s voice, and the evil chuckle that followed his comment. He sat up, and was about to ask Blue Woman what was wrong when he saw Boot leering at him. Without thinking, he made a sudden move for his shotgun. He was not quick enough. Boot cut him down with one fatal shot through the chest. In the next few seconds, the cabin erupted with terror and confusion. Lilly sprang up with the report of the rifle, followed almost immediately by a loud wail of anguish from Blue Woman. When the frightened girl saw Boot sitting there, she screamed.

She scrambled out of her bed to crouch in fear on the floor. Boot got up from the chair to go to her, but before he took two steps, he heard Two Buck’s boots on the porch and a frantic call for Lilly. Surprised, for he had not suspected there was anyone there but the three of them, Boot nevertheless was quick to react. With Two Buck pounding on the door, Boot walked over and lifted the bar, then stood aside. Seconds later, Two Buck burst into the room, charging past Boot, who was hidden behind the door. The obvious anguish registering on Blue Woman’s face told Two Buck that something was terribly wrong. He spun around just in time to catch Boot’s rifle barrel squarely across the bridge of his nose. Staggered by the blow, Two Buck dropped immediately, catching himself on one knee, but Boot was ready with a second blow of the rifle barrel against the side of Two Buck’s face. The young Cherokee crashed to the floor, out cold. Boot cocked his rifle and aimed directly at Two Buck’s head. Lilly screamed in horror, calling out Two Buck’s name. Then, forgetting fear for herself, she ran to his side.

“Well, now, ain’t that somethin’?” Boot snarled when Lilly took the unconscious boy’s head in arms. “So that’s the way things are, are they? That makes things a little different.” He lowered his rifle. Prepared to execute Two Buck moments before, he decided it would be more satisfying to drag the Cherokee’s misery out, in view of Lilly’s obvious affection for the boy. Shooting a glance in Blue Woman’s direction, he demanded, “Stop that bawling and get me some rope, woman.”

Blue Woman, who had left the bed to go to her husband’s side, looked up at Boot with eyes filled with tears, the lines in her face etched deeper by the anguish of this horrible moment. She did not reply at once. Instead, her eyes narrowed as she focused on the hateful, smirking face. “You go to hell,” she uttered defiantly.

Somewhat surprised, Boot grunted indifferently, then flashed a wide, toothy grin. “I reckon you’ll get there before I do, you old bitch.” The rifle cracked once more, creating a hole in the middle of Blue Woman’s forehead. The old Creek woman collapsed over the body of her husband. Boot turned his attention back to Lilly, who appeared to be in silent shock, unable to scream again. “Well, now, that just leaves the three of us for this little party,” he gloated.

A low moan from the injured Cherokee snared Boot’s attention once more. “You’d better find me somethin’ to tie him up with, else I’ll just have to shoot him right now.” He pointed the rifle barrel at Two Buck’s head. Then he suddenly remembered. “Two Buck,” he said. “That’s what you called him? I thought he was the one I killed back when that damn lawman jumped us after we left Jackrabbit Creek.” He fixed an accusing eye upon her. “He was chasin’ me because he’s sweet on you. Ain’t that right?” He drew back then, pleased with the discovery he had made. Not expecting an answer, he chided her further. “I bet he’d like to know your body like I do—and I mean every inch of it.” He threw back his head and laughed as she cowered before him, sick with the thought that her hell would surely start all over again. As suddenly as he had started, he abruptly stopped laughing and roared, “Get me that damn rope, or, by God, I’ll gut him like a fish.”

He smiled knowingly. “Now you don’t think I’m gonna let you go out to the barn while I set here watching your boyfriend, do you? I thought he might enjoy watchin’ me and you have a little party, but he ain’t worth havin’ to keep an eye on. It’d be a lot easier to go ahead and kill him.” He cocked the rifle.

Still too groggy to put up much resistance, Two Buck was effectively trussed up, then dragged over to sit up against the wall. Gradually, he regained his senses, aided by a splash of water from the bucket near the table. Out of his stupor, he looked with alarm at Lilly crouched trembling in the corner near him. Then he glared at Boot. “You jumped me,” he admitted, “but John Ward not so easy to trick.”

“Is that so?” Boot replied, delighted that Two Buck was recovered enough to verbally spar with him. “You know where your Mr. John Ward is? Right now, he’s on foot way back in the hills. I shot his damn horse out from under him. I expect it’ll take him till sometime about noon tomorrow to get back here. By that time, me and your little sweetheart, here, will be long gone.” He graced Two Buck with a sinister smile. “And the worms will be makin’ a meal off of your carcass.”

Boot just smiled. “Maybe I’ll do that,” he sneered. “Maybe I’ll just untie one arm and one leg. Let you hop around like a rooster while I carve you up with my knife.” Eventually tiring of the verbal insults, Boot decided it was time for the final outrage. Propping his rifle against the wall, he walked over and grabbed Lilly by the wrist. She tried to resist, fighting against him as he dragged her over to the bed. Rolling the bodies of Tom and Blue Woman out of his way with the toe of his boot, he threw Lilly on the bed. She tried to scramble out of his grasp, but each time he caught her and she received a vicious blow for her efforts. Soon, she was unable to fight him anymore, and collapsed to submit to his abuse as she had done so many times before.

Dropping his trousers, he forced the sobbing girl’s legs apart, all the while grinning at Two Buck and taunting the helpless young Cherokee. Unable to bear the sight, Two Buck closed his eyes tightly and banged his head back against the wall. “You can’t stand to watch,” Boot goaded, “but you can still hear.”

With no physical means to help Lilly, Two Buck could bear it no longer. In desperation, he tried to undermine Boot’s gigantic ego. Forcing himself to look at the savage assault, he commented, “I am surprised to see how small you are. You talk like a big man, but you are very small where you have to make children.”

Two Buck’s insults had served their purpose of temporarily killing the half-breed’s spiteful exhibition, as well as his ability to perform. Lilly was spared for the time being, but Two Buck knew that he was likely to pay a terrible price for her short reprieve. How terrible, he could not have imagined. Expecting to be shot immediately, he was surprised when Boot announced that he was going to spare his life. “Get up from there!” Boot commanded Lilly. “We’re leavin’.”

The malicious grin on Boot’s face told her that she was not going to like his response. “Why, that was just what I was plannin’ to do. Since you think so much of him, I decided not to shoot him. Is that what you want?”

She did not know how to respond, unable to believe that Boot would actually show compassion just to please her. But he checked to make sure that Two Buck’s bonds were secure, then promptly turned away. Grabbing Lilly by the arm, he led her outside. Pulling her back to the horses, he helped her up. Then, as he had done on the day he abducted her from his father’s house, he tied her wrists to the saddle horn. As an added precaution, he looped a rope under the horse’s belly and tied her ankles to the stirrups. “I wouldn’t want you to fall off, darlin’,” he teased.

Tying the reins to a porch post, he went to the barn and looked around in the dark interior of the building until he found a pitchfork. With a forkful of dry hay, he returned to the house and deposited it in the middle of the front room floor. He repeated the exercise several times until he had a sizable pile of hay in the small room. When he was satisfied with his efforts, he paused to mock his prisoner. “These mornin’s can get pretty chilly, and Lilly wants to make sure you don’t get cold.”

The brutal half-breed’s intentions were obvious, and Two Buck knew there was nothing he could do to save himself. In a defiant gesture, he spat at his tormenter. The spittle fell short, causing Boot to laugh at his feeble effort.

“You better start sayin’ your prayers, boy,” Boot goaded. He stood there simply grinning at his captive for a few long moments before going to the kitchen where he had spied a can of kerosene. After emptying the can on the floor and furniture, he paused for one additional moment of gloating. Then he smashed the lamp on the floor amidst the dried hay. A flame immediately flashed, following the path of the kerosene. “Damn!” Boot exclaimed, stepping back from the flame. “I’d like to stay and watch you cook, but this place is gonna be too hot in a few minutes.” He laughed as Two Buck tried to squeeze back against the wall. Staying only long enough then to make sure his fire was strong, he retreated from the burning cabin.

A man was judged by the way he lived his life—or so Two Buck believed. A man was judged by his bravery in battle, by the way he treated his family and his neighbors, and the way he faced nature’s hardships. And the Great Spirit, who watched man’s trials, also judged a man by the way he faced death. Two Buck’s time to face death had come, and he was determined to pass into the spirit world with dignity.

As the flames rose higher around him, reaching up on the walls within minutes after Boot departed, Two Buck could already feel the scorching heat closing in upon him. Through the crackling of the fire as it fed upon the table, he heard the sound of horses as his executioner departed. He even thought he heard the sound of Lilly crying, although that could have been the hissing of the turpentine in the log walls.

Like a great beast with an insatiable appetite, the fire crept toward the corner where he struggled in vain to free himself. The heat was now unbearable, closing in to consume the very air he was gasping to breathe. His skin was so hot that it felt blistered. With all hope consumed by the flames, he began to pray that he could be brave, although he now feared that he could not endure the torture. He called upon his native spirits to come to his aid. As the air became too hot to suck into his lungs, he prayed to the Christian God to take him swiftly.

Crying out in painful torment against the unbearable heat, he closed his eyes and prayed for death to take him quickly. With failing breath, he began singing his death chant. When he opened his eyes, there appeared to be a form before him, its outline wavering in the hazy, smoke-filled room. An angel? Hardly. The answer to Two Buck’s prayers stood as tall as the door frame, with shoulders that filled the opening. Casting burning chairs and small furniture aside, defying the greedy monster to impede him, John Ward walked through the flaming room. With no time for untying him, he reached down, grabbed Two Buck, and hoisted him on his shoulder. With roof timbers groaning and starting to give way, he retraced his steps to the door and the cool, fresh air outside.

Without pausing, John carried Two Buck down to the creek and laid him in the shallow water while he cut the ropes that bound him. Unable to talk at once, Two Buck gulped in the cool air. “You gonna make it?” John asked, not sure how close his young friend was to being cooked.

John shrugged. “I got here too late to catch Boot. The house was burnin’ like hell. No one was outside. I didn’t figure Boot took everyone with him, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna go in that burning cabin just to make sure. But then I heard you makin’ that god-awful noise you call singin’.”

Two Buck nodded, remembering that he had cried out when he thought all was lost. Though not overly proud of it, he was glad now that he had not chosen to meet his fate in silence. His appointment with death now effectively postponed, he remembered his main concern. “Lilly!” he gasped. “He’s got Lilly again!”

John shook his head slowly in silent exasperation. The murderous rampage had gone on far too long, and he could not deny a certain frustration over his failure to put a stop to it. Now, however, after arriving on the scene of another slaughter too late, he was not far behind the evil savage. This time, he was certain he had finally caught up with Boot Stoner. “How long has he been gone from here?” he asked.

John got to his feet. He glanced back at the burning cabin, and then he looked up at the sky. Already the moon had disappeared behind the hills and the darkness of the sky was softening. Daylight was not far away. “I’m wastin’ time standin’ here jawin’,” he said, even though he knew he would be wasting even more time if he tried to track Boot before there was enough light to see.

Although still a little shaky, and complaining of an ache deep in his chest, Two Buck said that he was ready to ride. John figured the ache was probably due to the overheated air and smoke the young man inhaled. “Most likely you’ll get over it in a little while,” he said. “Or else you’ll just die,” he added, teasing.

With Two Buck on his feet again, they went to the barn, where they discovered Two Buck’s horse missing. He took a long, cynical look at Tom Talltree’s old mare, but there was no other choice, so he looked around until he found a bridle and saddle. John watched him patiently while he saddled the mare. When he was done, John unbuckled his gun belt and tossed it over to him. “Here,” he said. “You don’t wanna go after Boot Stoner naked.”

At first light, they picked up Boot’s trail. It led in the general direction of Low Hawk. With Two Buck certain that Boot had not had breakfast before leaving Black Rock Creek, John was hoping that the outlaw might stop to eat soon after daybreak.

That was not the case, however. Boot planned to head south to the Canadian River and beyond to the Chickasaw Nation, and eventually into Texas. His plan included a stop first at Jonah Feathers’ store in Low Hawk, where he intended to pick up supplies for the journey.

It was still early when Boot rode into the little community of Low Hawk. With no concern at all for the risk of encountering vengeful residents of the town, he rode up to the store leading Lilly’s horse, with Two Buck’s behind hers. He tied his horse up at the hitching rail, pulled his rifle out of the saddle sling, and took a long look around before entering the store. Due to the early hour, there was no one about. Satisfied that he would not be disturbed during his dealings with the store’s owner, he went inside.

Jonah Feathers almost tipped his chair over backward when he saw who his first customer was. The coffee cup in his trembling hand sloshed hot coffee over the sides and down upon his fingers. The sensationof the hot liquid over his hand went unnoticed by Jonah as his whole body went numb with fright.

Jonah did as he was told, and in a few minutes, Ruth Feathers came through the doorway from the attached living quarters. “What is it, Jonah? I’m trying to roll out some biscuits . . .” She stopped in midsentence when she saw Boot standing there with his rifle cradled across his arms. “What are you doing here, you murderer?” she demanded, unconcerned with his reaction to the contempt in her tone.

Realizing Jonah’s fear then, she said nothing more, but she fixed the half-breed outlaw with a scorching gaze. Boot answered her gaze with a sneering look of scorn. Then he informed Jonah that he was there to get supplies. He walked around the little store, pointing out items he saw on the shelves and calling out the quantities he needed of each. Jonah hustled back and forth to fetch the items indicated, and placed them in a stack on the counter. Ruth backed away behind the end of the counter, where she stood silently watching. When she was sure Boot’s attention was on something on one of the shelves, she reached under the counter to retrieve the butcher knife used to cut side meat. She slipped it into the deep pocket of her skirt. She was not certain what she would do with it, but she was determined to have some form of protection.

When he could see nothing else he fancied, Boot said, “All right, load that stuff up on them horses outside.” When Jonah jumped to comply, Boot motioned him back with his rifle. “Not you. Let her load it up.” He stood then, gazing insolently at the frowning woman, waiting for her response.

Still Ruth hesitated, giving her husband a scalding look before she relented and picked up two sacks of supplies. Walking out the front door, she was startled to see Lilly sitting on one of the horses, her hands and feet tied to the saddle. “Oh, dear Lord, child,” she gasped. “That savage found you.”

Before she made any progress on the rope, she heard Boot’s voice behind her. “Hey, I didn’t tell you to do no talkin’. Get back in here and get the rest of my goods.” Shielding her knife with her back turned to him, she quickly hid it in her skirt again. Turning around, she marched back inside to get the other sacks. “Put them two behind my saddle,” Boot instructed when she came back.

Lilly saw the look of dismay in Ruth’s eyes when she realized she was not going to get an opportunity to finish working on the ropes. The captive girl showed Ruth a grateful smile and nodded in way of thanking her for trying. Heartbroken, Ruth returned a smile of apology. She stepped over to stand by Lilly’s horse when Boot stepped off the porch and prepared to mount.

Boot laughed at the notion. “Hell, I am payin’ you for them goods,” he said. “I’m lettin’ you and that old crow you’re married to live. I might could even do you a bigger favor, and shoot your old lady. How’d that be?” He leveled the rifle in Ruth’s direction.

Boot threw his head back and laughed, only to stop cold when he heard an authoritative voice call out from the edge of the trees by the creek. “Boot Stoner! You’re under arrest for murder. I’m givin’ you a chance to surrender peacefully.”

Boot’s reaction was immediate, and it was not to surrender. Swinging his leg over, he kicked his horse hard, and the animal bolted away with Boot lying low on its neck. Thinking quickly, Ruth severed the lead rope when Boot’s sudden departure pulled the line taut, causing Lilly’s horse to bolt after Boot’s before veering to the side and galloping off in another direction with Two Buck’s horse following. The crack of John Ward’s Winchester split the air as the deputy tried for a lucky shot.

He knew there was little chance of hitting the fugitive, but he took the shot anyway. If he could have waited until he was within closer range, he would have had a better chance. His instructions from Judge Parker were to always give the fugitive the opportunity to surrender, no matter how heinous the outlaw. He had done that, so he now felt that his obligations to uphold the law were satisfied. From this point on, he considered his job to be that of eliminating a mad dog. As the two galloped up to the store, John yelled to Two Buck, “Go after her!” Two Buck was already riding after Lilly as fast as Tom’s old horse would run. John asked the gray stallion for all the speed the big horse could deliver, and the horse responded, chewing up the grassy plain in huge chunks. At long last, the duel was on. Weeks of frustrating search had finally boiled down to a deadly dash across a grass-covered sea of prairie. This time, John felt certain, win or lose, the issue would be settled.

The two horses were a match. The lawman could realize no gain, and the outlaw could not increase his lead. Urging his horse desperately, Boot swung back toward the creek that ran through Low Hawk, through a stand of cottonwoods on the bank, and splashed through the creek to the other side. Still, the lawman was relentless, matching stride for stride. Striking a narrow wagon road, Boot turned his horse to follow it. Its hooves thundered along the hard-packed clay as Boot looked back to see John Ward still bearing down on him.

“Damn him!” Boot complained. There was something in him that feared the relentless lawman. He had boasted of a desire to face John Ward, even convinced himself of his strong medicine. Yet, at the fateful moment, he was not sure of himself. Now his horse began to show signs of fatigue, and he looked back again at his pursuer, hoping to see signs of the deputy’s horse foundering. Then, rounding a curve in the road, he came upon a burned-out cabin with a barn still standing. In the panic of the moment, he failed to realize it was George Longpath’s house, a house he had burned down. Aware that his horse had not much left to give, he swung into the path and urged the weary animal toward the barn.

John rounded the bend in the road in time to see Boot ride into the barn, coming out of the saddle before the horse came to a full stop. He pulled up hard on the gray’s reins, and the thankful horse skidded to a stop. John quickly looked around him for some position of cover. Not a moment too soon he dived behind a large oak about thirty yards from the front of the barn, and cocked his rifle just as shots rang out from the building. He rolled over to the other side of the tree when bullets kicked up dirt around the roots, and fired three quick shots at the barn, then rolled back to the other side of the tree. He didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds before his shots were answered. While Boot fired a barrage of shots at the opposite side of the tree, John watched carefully to pinpoint their point of origin. He’s in the hayloft, he thought as the dull smack of shot after shot struck the oak.

This could take all day, John thought, realizing they were at a standoff at this point. Determined to bring the altercation to a close, he decided it was time to take a risk. Rolling back to the other side again, he waited for another barrage from the barn. When he figured Boot was reloading, he rose up on one knee and pumped six rounds into the door of the loft. As soon as the last shot rang out, he sprinted for the open barn door. Boot only managed to partially reload his magazine before he realized what was happening. By the time he moved to the door to spot the lawman, John had reached the cover of the barn below him. Frustrated, Boot shot blindly through the loft floor, as John rolled under Boot’s horse. It was only for a moment, however, for the horse reared wildly as the shots kicked up dirt around it; then it bolted through the open end of the barn with John just barely out of the way of its hooves.

John hustled to the side wall and the ladder to the loft. Boot, distracted by the sudden flight of his horse, ran to the door again. Climbing quickly up the steps with his rifle in one hand, John reached the loft floor just as Boot turned to discover him. Finding himself dead in the lawman’s sights, Boot jumped from the loft door to the ground below. John scrambled up onto the floor of the loft and moved to the door, expecting to see Boot running for cover. Instead, Boot was trying to drag himself back inside the barn, his leg having been broken in his jump from the hayloft.

Not willing to risk the same fate, John moved quickly back to the ladder and descended the plank steps two at a time, landing on the floor of the barn at nearly the same time Boot struggled inside the door. Boot reached back to pull his rifle to him, only to scream in pain as a bullet from the lawman’s rifle shattered his arm. He looked back at John Ward, the deputy standing with his rifle aimed right at him, and realized he was done for. “Don’t shoot!” he screamed. “I give up!” Seeing John hesitate, he begged the lawman, “You got me. My leg’s broke. I think you broke my arm, too. I give up. You’re a federal marshal—you can’t shoot me in cold blood!”

Still standing with his rifle aimed at the vile outlaw’s head, John Ward had to think about that for a moment. What the wounded half-breed said was true in principal, but this mad dog needed killing badly. The people he had murdered demanded it. His sense of honor won out in the end, and he slowly lowered the rifle and approached the crippled outlaw.

John hesitated for a moment, studying the man who had terrified such a large part of the Nations for weeks. After a long pause, he spoke. “All right,” he said softly, and bent down to give him a hand. The two adversaries looked each other in the eye at that moment. Boot’s eyelids narrowed and his eyes quivered slightly as he suddenly lunged up with his long skinning knife, thrusting up at John’s belly. Just as suddenly, Boot’s wrist was met and locked in the steel grip of John Ward’s hand. At the same time, he jammed his rifle barrel up under Boot’s chin. He smiled and said, “I was hoping you’d try that.” Boot’s eyes opened wide with fright a split second before the bullet tore through the top of his head.