SAMPLE OF

THE SHOOTING SODBUSTER

BY

HANK VALON

COPYRIGHTED

Chapter 1

The two riders came into town at a heavy-footed gallop.  The workhorses with their harness chains jingling were not meant for running.  They reined their horses in hard and jumped down.  Tie ropes quickly fastened the tired and lathered animals to stone hitching posts. They certainly weren’t cowboys.  Their shirts were the usual loose cotton work shirt worn by cowboys and farmers alike.  But their bibbed overalls, straw hats and brogan shoes without spurs marked them as farmers.  Sodbusters, they were called by the more romantic lived cowboys.

 The eldest and biggest turned to an old man standing in the shade of the porch.  “Where is he?”

The old man nodded toward the door of the boarding house.  “They’re inside.” He was an old grizzled man in slick yellow buckskins with a huge buffalo rifle cradled in his arms.  He paused to spit a yellow stream into the dusty street.  His stained whiskers indicated he didn’t always hit what he aimed at.   “Yer pa is shot, but he’s a tough old b’ar.  Yer ma and Andy ‘re with him.”

They young man hurried through the screen door with the younger one at his heels.

“Wipe your feet,” he cautioned the younger one as he paused on the rag-rope rug.  With the dust wiped from their brogans the two hurried across the parlor to where a big man squatted on a sturdy stool.  The other furniture room was too expensive for a man of his bulk.  He got to his feet to greet the two.

“You heard?”

“Thad Barfield rode by and told us,” said the boy.  “Is he hurt bad?”

“Bad enough.  He’s shot in the chest.  He was shot a lot worse back in the war, but he was a lot younger then.  Ma’s with him.  He seems to be restin’.  His breathing seems okay and he hasn’t had any blood come out his mouth like you’d expect with a bullet in the chest.  Maybe the bullet didn’t go deep enough to hit his lung.  As big as he is it’d have to go through an awful lot to get to his innards.

“I sent Joe for the sheriff.  The girls have gone out to tell Gwendolyn about Charlie bein’ killed.  Matt, I’d like you and Davy to follow those killers and leave markers for the posse to follow.  They was ridin’ good horses, so they’ll be coverin’ a lot of ground before the sheriff can get on their trail.  All the young healthy men are off workin’ on the railroad.  The sheriff is down there lookin’ into some fracas between a couple of the construction men.  If some little storm blows up and covers the tracks those killers will get clean away.  But if you and Davy can follow along behind them and leave markers for the posse they’ll get their day in front of a judge.”

“Why can’t you go and leave Davy here?” asked Matt.

“Couple reasons,” replied Andy.  “One is, Ma needs me here in case he gets worse.  The other is a I got a boil.”

“A boil?” asked Davy.

“Yeah, a boil,” said Andy with just a tinge of anger.  “It’s not just any boil.  It happens to be in a place that makes sittin’ a little touchy.”

“It’s on your butt?” Davy exclaimed with a grin.

Andy glanced at the door.  “Yes, it’s on my butt.  Now, just drop the subject.  I can’t go.  An hour or two in the saddle would be as bad as getting’ shot.  Now, you two stop by the store and get a skillet and some food and whatever else you need to camp out for three or four days.  You might see about a rifle and some ammunition.  I don’t want you getting’ close enough to have to use it, but they might set an ambush for anybody followin’.  Whatever you do don’t get yourselves shot.  Ma would never let me hear the last of it.”

“I got my rifle,” said Davy.

“Yeah, I figgered you would have it, but it’s got a bent barrel and can almost shoot around a corner.  I know, I know,” Andy waved off Davy’s protests.  “You know where to aim it to hit what you’re shootin’ at.  I’d prefer it if you leave it in your saddle boot.  Any shootin’ needs to be done Matt oughta do it, and I know he couldn’t hit a barn from the inside with that rifle of yours.  See what they got over at the store and put it on our account.”

“Why does he have to go along?” Matt nodded towards Davy.

“Cause with him along you won’t get careless and get too close.  You get him shot, you’ll have to explain to Ma.”

“I could do better alone,” said Matt.

“Maybe, but if your horse rolls over on you he’ll be there to bring your body home,” said Andy.  “Now, get going.  Those killers have about a three-hour head start.  You let ‘em keep their head start.  You just lay back and follow their trail and leave makers for the posse to follow.  Make the markers big.  Just between us, I don’t think our sheriff can track a herd of cows through a fresh plowed field.”

Matt looked from his little brother to his big brother.  At last he shook his head and headed for the door.  Andy was only a tad smaller than Pa and just as stubborn.  He had made his decision and that was that.

The old man on the porch fell into step with them as they untied their horses and walked across the street to the store.  “They busted into the express office fust thing this mornin’.  They made old Fred open the safe then shot him.  Young Charlie walked in right after the shot and they shot him.  They busted up the telegraph before they left.  Nate, the telegrapher, said it couldn’t be repaired with out some pieces he didn’t have.  Your pa was getting a haircut when all the shootin started.  He and the barber and a couple other fellows came a runnin’ out.  Those hellions came a ridin’ down the street a shootin’ at anybody that moved.  Your pa was the biggest target, so I guess that’s why they shot him.  That damned ordnance ‘bout no guns in town ‘s what did it.  If just three or four of the men standin’ around had guns those varmints would a got what fer.  Just like they did that Younger gang up in Minnesota.  With that damned ordnance we may as well advertise in the paper for all the thieves and robbers to come get us.”  He paused to quirt a stream of brown juice into the dust.

“Well, I got my rifle,” said Davy.

“Yeah,” agreed Matt.  “If we get ‘em around a corner.”

“It ain’t bent that bad,” retorted Davy.  “And I know just how to aim it.  And it holds sixteen shots.  Don’t have to load very often.”

“Hmph,” snorted Matt.  “Don’t expect we’ll be doing any shootin’.  We’re just doin’ the followin’.  The posse can do the shootin’.”

“You are going to take a gun?” said the old man.

“Depends, if they have one worth takin’,” said Matt.

“Hell, take ole Bess, here.”  The man held out the big rifle.

“No offense, Mr. Pardee, but that gun weighs about twenty pounds and only holds one bullet.”

“One bullet that hits the target ever’ time is a lot better than one that bangs out a dozen shots and don’t hit anythin’.  I guarantee Ole Bess don’t ever miss out to three-quarters of a mile.  Round a mile she goes to missin’ a little.  An the big bullet she throws don’t need no second shot.”  He pulled one of the long cartridges from his belt.  “That ‘ere bullet weighs three-hunnert and fifty grains.  There’s enough powder sittin’ under it to blow the door off that safe those hellions robbed.  The ole gal is heavy, but you don’t hev to git so close to use ‘er.  I uster shoot buffalo all day from half a mile.  The critters never knew what was happening.”

Matt paused and hefted the big rifle.  He shook his head.  “Mr. Pardee, you let me shoot it a couple times.  I know it’s accurate way off, but it still weighs about twenty pounds.  Lemme see what Lem has in the store.  If he don’t have anything any better I’ll take it.  Don’t expect to shoot anything, but if I have to I’d rather do it from way off.”

***

The shot echoed over the grassy hills.  Matt and Davy reined in to listen.  Two more shots in rapid succession gave them the direction.  They kicked their horses ribs and sent them galloping across the flat-topped hill toward the shooting.  The borrowed McClellan saddles were an improvement over the harnesses, but the horses were still plow horses.  They reined in at the edge of the ridge and saw the drama being played out across the little valley before them.  The distance was about a quarter of a mile away.  A rider on a bay horse was streaking down the opposite hillside toward a creek gully at the bottom.  At that distance they thought the rider was a man wearing full chaps, but one side of her dress suddenly came loose and blew up to reveal a petticoat and long white drawers.  Seven men were pursuing her.

“That’s a woman!” announced Davy.  He banged his horse’s flanks and sent him running down the hill.

“Wait a minute, Davy.  Hold it!” called Matt to no avail.  “Dammit!”  He jumped down from his horse and pulled the big rifle from the saddle scabbard.  He rammed the bracing rod into the ground.  The top of the rod was a small leather covered horseshoe.  He dropped to his knees behind it and eased the barrel of the big rifle into the padded rest.  With his left elbow braced on his knee he flipped up the vernier sight and put the peep on the four hundred yard notch.

Across the valley, the woman was shooting a pistol at her pursuers.  The range between them was too great, but the pursuers were firing their pistols at her also.  The sound of the gunfire came late to the puffs of smoke.  One of the riders jerked a rifle from his saddle scabbard and jumped to the ground.

The fleeing rider was approaching the dry creek at the bottom of the slope without pause.  The creek was a wide gully at that point.  It was obvious she intended to jump the gully or pile up.  The pursuing riders were all stopped up on the slope watching their companion sight on the fleeing woman.

Up on the hill Matt squeezed the back set trigger then barely touched the front trigger.  The big rifle cracked and spat out a cloud of black smoke.  Matt rocked back from the recoil.  He quickly jacked the lever down, ejecting the big cartridge.  Another round was slipped into the breech and the lever pulled back up.  

Across the valley the rifleman was suddenly knocked sideways.  The bullet slamming into him came a second and a half before the report of the big rifle.

The woman made the jump across the creek and sent her tired horse up the slope.  It was obvious the jump took the horse’s last bit of energy.  He slowed to a walk despite her quirt.  The big rifle roared again and one of the six remaining pursuers was knocked from his saddle.  One of them pointed at the smoke that revealed Matt’s position.  The ones still mounted, wheeled their horses and went racing back up the hill. A third shot from the big rifle whistled over their heads as they disappeared over the crest.

Matt lowered the big rifle and jacked the breech open and slipped in another round.  The little wisp of smoke curled from the barrel and was soon whisked away by the light breeze.  He sat cross-legged and rested the rifle butt on his lap and watched that far hilltop.

Davy met the woman and they both stopped and dismounted to let their horses blow.  The rifleman up on the hill got to his feet and shoved the support rod into the saddle boot and mounted with the big rifle in his right hand.  He supported the butt of the rifle against his thigh.  Its muzzle pointed skyward.  He gave the horse an angry kick in the sides and started down the hill.  His eyes flitted back and forth from the ground in front of his horse to the distant ridge where the five men had disappeared.  Occasionally he looked down the hill at the boy and woman who were engaged in lively conversation.  His anger hadn’t cooled much when he approached them.  

“Hey, Matt,” called the boy when he came close enough.  “I betcha don’t remember her?  Betcha fifty cents.”

Matt hardly glanced at the woman.  Not recognizing her he rode on to the boy.  Taking one last look at the distant ridge he stepped down and shoved the rifle into the saddle boot.  He grabbed the surprised boy by the front of his shirt and his bibbed overalls.  He hoisted him clear of the ground and shoved his face to within inches of his face. 

“When I say stop!  You stop!” he snarled.  “Those men are killers!  If we wasn’t so far from home I’d send you back!”

The boy didn’t fight back but the fire in his eyes was far from submissive.  “Yeah, well I didn’t think you’d be doing anything to help her.  Somebody had to do something.”

“Getting yourself killed is not a help to anybody.  From now one you ask me before you go riding off like that.”  He set the boy down roughly and turned to the woman.

“You hurt any?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” she replied.  “You don’t need to be so rough on him.  He was coming to my rescue.”

“Your killin’ is more like it,” said Matt still angry.  He made a very obvious perusal of her from head to toe.  She was obviously a very pretty woman with dark hair and eyes.  She was wearing a white blouse over a full brown leather skirt.  A cartridge belt encircled her slim waist.  It the loops were full of thirty-eight S&W cartridges.  The butt of a Schofield revolver protruded from the holster.  She had been riding astride like a man.  He didn’t know many women that rode astride other than his sisters, but they didn’t ride that way where other people could see them.  There was something familiar about her, though.  He shook his head.  “Don’t recall ever meeting you.  I’m sure I would have remembered a girl as purty as you.”

“Why, thank you, Matt,” she replied with a smile.  “It has been a long time, but I would’ve thought you would have remembered me.  Davy says you used to be insanely in love with me until I boxed your ear at the Taylor’s wedding dance.”

“Sally? Sally Gruder?”

“Yup, the one and only.”  She made a little pirouette.  “Am I that different from the last time you saw me?”

“That was seven years ago,” he said as he turned away and remounted his horse.  He turned his horse away and started down to the gully.  “I guess we’ve both changed quite a bit since then.”  He stopped to look for the easiest place for his horse to go down and then back up the other side.

“Well, you’ve certainly changed,” she seemed shocked that he hadn’t stopped to talk to her.  “You’ve filled out a lot.  You look more like your brother, Joe.  You looked more like Davy back then.”

“Un huh,” replied Matt in a distracted tone, as he decided where to go down.  He swatted the horse across the rump with his reins and sent the animal down the embankment.  He wheeled the animal at the bottom of the gully and turned to the gentlest slope and laid on the leather to urge the horse to run up the slope.  He paused on a flat place and turned back.

“Keep an eye on that ridge,” he ordered Davy.  “They might come back.  Soon ’s you get your horses rested come on up.  We got two bodies to bury.”

 “Sorry,” replied Davy dropping his eyes.  “Didn’t figger you would fight.”

“You figgered wrong,” said Matt with a distinct hardness in his voice.  He turned his horse and sent him trudging up the slope.

“Bodies?” said Sally.

“Yeah, bodies,” said Davy.  “I saw him shoot one of ‘em.  Didn’t see the second one.  C’mon, we can lead these horses up the hill while they rest.  May as well git up there.  He’s not in a good mood,” said Davy as he led his horse down the embankment and ran to keep from being stepped on.

Sally followed with her horse.  “So what’s he mad about?”

“Lot’s o’ things,” replied Davy pulling his reluctant horse up the slope.  “He ain’t much for fightin’.  That’s why they sent him.  Then there’s pa gittin’ shot, but mostly my coming along.  He thinks he has to be responsible for me, and he hates being responsible for other people.  I can take care of myself, but he’s worried I’m gonna get hurt and it will be his fault.  Now he’s got you to worry about too, and then he just shot two men. So I reckon he’s really gonna be nasty.”

“Well, he don’t have to be put out on my account,” she said huffily.  “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, I could see that,” said Davy grinning.  “In about another minute you’d a had a bullet in your back and we’d a’ had your body to bury.”

The first body Matt came to was the rifleman. The big bullet had torn a large hole through his chest.  Matt stripped off his cartridge belt with two pistols and laid them beside the rifle.  A money belt under his shirt held a hundred dollars in greenbacks and another fifty in gold.  He had three silver dollars and another two dollars in change in his left pocket.  There was a folding knife with a broken handle and a rabbit’s foot in his right pocket.  He had a tobacco pouch and cigarette papers in his shirt pocket.  His vest pocket held a silver-cased railroader’s watch.  Matt appropriated the pistol belt, the money belt, the money and the watch.  The rest he left with the corpse and went on to the second man.

The second man was also dead.  He too, had a double-holstered pistol belt.  He didn’t have a money belt, but in his pocket he had a roll of bills totaling fifty dollars.  He had a couple dollars in change in his pants pocket.  He had a good folding knife in his other pants pocket.  He didn’t have a watch or the makings for smoking.  He had cartridges in his vest pockets.  The cartridges were thirty-eights.  The pistols in the holsters were forty-fours.  A lump in his boot revealed a little top break thirty-eight revolver.

He stood up and called to Davy and Sally as they were approaching the first body.  “Hey, check his boots.”

When the bodies were stripped of their weapons and valuables one was dragged to lie beside the other.  The two brothers piled loose rock over them.  The ground was too rocky to even consider digging a grave.  Sally pitched in and helped cover the corpses.

“So what are you doing out here alone?” Matt asked Sally as he carried rocks to pile over the bodies.

“I rode out to visit the old home place,” she replied “Then I just took off ridin’.  Why are you two out here?” she asked.  “You decided to become cowboys?”

“Nope, we’re followin’ these nice gentlemen that tried to murder you.  They robbed the Express Office in Grantsville.  They shot our Pa on the way outa town.  They also shot some other people too, but he was the only one we was related to.  Davy and I are supposed to just follow ‘em and leave markers for the posse to follow.” 

“Neither one of you has a revolver” she pointed out.

“We left in a big hurry,” replied Matt.  “We did grab some eats.  Davy brought his sixteen shot Henry.  It’s got a bent barrel.  He’s the only one that can hit anything with it.  Old Man Pardee gave me that big buffalo gun.  He made me promise to bring it back.  I almost left it at the bridge at the edge of town.  It is awfully heavy, but Davy insisted I bring it.”

“Ain’t you glad you did,” grinned Davy as he walked past with an armful of rocks.  “If you’d a left it behind your sweetheart, here, would a’ got shot.”

“You are askin’ for a poke in the nose,” frowned Matt.

“Sweetheart or not,” grinned Sally.  “I’m glad you came along when you did.  And I’m sorry I slapped you at the Taylor’s dance.  I had my hat set for someone else when you tried to steal the kiss I was saving for him.”

“All water under the bridge,” replied Matt.  “That was when we were children.  We’re both grown up now.”

“Well, anyway,” Sally stepped in front of him and stopped him as he stood holding a large flat limestone.  She reached up and tugged his neck scarf to pull his face down to where she could reach his lips.  She gave him a quick peck and let him straighten up. “That’s for the one you missed out on at Taylor’s dance.”  She pulled him down again and kissed him a long passionate kiss.  When she released him, “that was for saving my life just now.”  She walked past him and went to get another stone.

Matt stood gaping after her with the stone still in his hands.

Davy laughed.  “Now, that was a kiss!  You planning on holding that rock all day?”

Matt turned red and went on to the grave with the stone where he tossed it onto the pile and turned to look at Sally as she came struggling with another stone.  He shook his head and fought down the urge to take it from her.

Once they had both bodies buried under a cairn of rocks they paused before them with hats in hand.  Matt gave a half-hearted eulogy asking God to forgive the dead outlaws their sins.  Then the three living said the Lord’s Prayer. Straw hats went back on their heads and chin cords tightened.

“We don’t even know their names,” said Matt.  “Let this be a lesson to you, Davy.  Two men, who took to stealin’.  Look what it got ‘em.  Now they lay dead in unmarked graves for all eternity.  They probably started out just like us, good families and good boys, but somewhere along the way they started takin’ things without payin’ for ‘em.”

“Well, I guess I’m gonna go against what you just said,” said Davy as he buckled on one of the pistol belts.  “We’ve got pistols now, and I don’t figger to pay them for ‘em.”

Matt picked up the other gun belt and held it thoughtfully for a moment then buckled it around his waist.  “I don’t much like the idea, but it would be stupid to follow those killers with these in a sack where we couldn’t get to ‘em.  We’ll turn ‘em over to the posse, when they ever catch up.”

Sally took the watch from the sack of valuables.  She went to Matt and fastened the chain to his overall bib and poked the watch in the watch pocket.  “You might need to know what time it is.  It would be just as safe there as in the sack too.”

“Just until we find out who it really belongs to,” said Matt.

“Of course,” agreed Sally.  She looped the cord of the sack of the outlaws’ valuables over her saddle horn and mounted.

Davy shoved the dead man’s rifle into the saddle boot of the outlaw’s horse.  They also had the outlaws’ two horses and their gear.  “So where do we go now?  That sun is going down fast.”

“I guess we’ll follow the robbers,” said Matt.  “Sally, what are you going to do?  You can come along with us until we come close to a town.  You can stay there if you want.  Or you can take off on your own back to Grantsville.”  He turned to her for her reaction to his suggestion.

She pushed a strand of hair up under her hat and replied, “Guess I’ll stick with you, two.  There might be more of those robbers on the road back to Grantsville.  I’ll feel safer with you.”

Matt stepped onto his horse.  “I think they still plan to go to the Old Stillwell place.  There’s shelter in what’s left of the old soddy and there’s water there.  It’s close to the road, but out of sight.  I think they’ll camp there tonight.”

“So where do we camp?” asked Davy.

“How about our place?” suggested Sally.  “The barn is still standing.  It would be a roof over our heads if a storm does blow up, and it’s not far from the Stillwell Place.”

“What if they go there instead of the Stillwell Place?” asked Davy as he picked up the reins to the extra horses.

“We’ll just have to look and see,” said Matt.  “If they go to one we’ll go to the other.  That air sure feels like rain.  I bet when we get to the top of the ridge we see some dark clouds ahead.”

“Now, this is what I call high adventure,” said Sally.  She nudged her horse in the ribs with her spurs.  “C’mon Lucy, you’ve rested enough.”

“Now, just slow down there,” cautioned Matt.  “We don’t want to go rushing into anything.  What if they left a couple men behind to shoot us when we go over the top of that ridge?”

“Do you think they’d do that?” she asked reining in and circling back to ride beside him.

“It’s a possibility,” Matt replied.

“So what do we do?” she asked eagerly.

Matt was taken aback.  “Do you think this is some kind of game?  Those men were going to kill you.”

“I know,” she replied.  “I’ve never been so scared in my life, but it was so thrilling.  When they stopped me on the road I knew they were up to no good.  One grabbed my reins.  I don’t know what made me do it, but I just slashed him with my quirt and jabbed Lucy with my spurs.  She reared up and took off like a shot.  We got ahead real quick.  Their horses were tired.  I got out my pistol and shot at them.  That seemed to slow them a little bit.  But when I topped this ridge with the bullets singing past my ears it was the wildest feeling of my life.  I just knew I was going to jump Lucy across that creek and ride away.”

“For your information that one farthest down the hill had you in his rifle sights,” said Matt.  “In another minute or two he would have shot either your horse or you.  Your wild feeling would have ended right there.”

“But it didn’t,” she replied soberly.  “My dashing hero came along just in the nick of time to save me, just like in the dime novels.  “You are my dashing hero, Matt Bogardus, but I want to be a dashing heroine.  I want to be just like Buckskin Annie.”

“Who is Buckskin Annie?” asked Matt.

“She’s a girl that wears buckskin and shoots outlaws and wild Indians.  She gets into the awfullest predicaments but always manages to get loose and foil the evil villains.”

“Sounds like somebody in a story book,” snorted Matt.

“She is,” replied Sally.  “But I want to be just like her.  Someday I’ll have to marry and have children and spend the rest of my life washing and cooking and cleaning.  Until then I aim to have some adventures I can look back on.”

“People that have wild adventures like you are talking about sometimes get killed and miss out on the rest of their lives.”

“The danger is what makes it so thrilling,” she replied.  “Just riding my horse down the road is nothing.  But being pursued by murderous cutthroats that plan to do unspeakable things to me, now that is exciting.”

Matt just shook his head and signaled to stop.  He dismounted and took a telescope from his saddlebag and crept forward to the edge of the flat-topped hill.  The deep purple clouds obscured the sun on the far horizon.  The valleys were in deep shadow already.  Matt sat in the grass to steady his telescope and searched the valley for sign of the fleeing robbers.  At first he saw nothing then on the far ridge just the faintest of a dust cloud rose in one place.  It was where they would have crossed if they were going to the Stillwell Place.  He returned to his horse and put the telescope back in his saddlebag.  “They’re headed for the Stillwell place.  Storm’s a comin’.  Let’s git to your barn.”

 

 

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