Finish the Western

Cafe Society
21

Back at the ranch, Charlie’s wife piped up, “Now hold on you two. Don’t I get a say in this?”

With a sheepish look on his face, Charlie replied, “Sorry, Caroline, dear. What’s on your mind?”

“Pretty much all I know of Bart is from the stories you’ve told me. You know what he’s capable of, I say Hank stays here on the porch while the two of us wait inside in case things start going bad.”

“Good idea,” said Hank, “but keep an eye on Sally. Don’t want her to give Bart the same reception she gave me!”

22

“Yes it does have something to do with that ‘Jesse of mine’ retorted Belle. The only man I’ll ever love, and he died covering me. Helped me get these papers in from Boss Connell’s place, we’d almost made it out, and he got shot. I saw him fall, and then they rode after me. I think.”

“That why you started drinkin’? And don’t try to lie about it, I smelled it on you earlier, back at the Silverlode.”

“What’s it to you?” Belle snapped back. “Like you can talk!”

“Belle, that’s part of what I meant about making it up to you. I’m finally dried out! And since I’m the one that got your Pa gambling with Connell to start with, I figure between what I know, and whatever’s in them papers, we can put him away for good!”

Belle’s face was screwed up in astonishment as the two of them rounded the end of the gully trail and approach the same fence gate that Hank Poole had ridden through, not so long before.

23

Clem smirked, raised his hands, and said “Get’em up, Al. We ain’t done nothin’ they can hold us for an’ we’ll complete our business here anyway.”
Without taking his eyes, or shotgun, off them Wilson circled behind the two gunmen.
“Joe,” he said “I’m going to relieve these two gentlemen of their weapons. If either of them even looks like his thoughts are straying into the paths of sin, you send him on to glory.”
“Yes sir!” Joe replied. The muzzle of his big horsepistol was as unmoving as a dead man’s eye.
Wilson pulled the gunmen’s revolvers from their holsters and thrust them into his own belt.
“You know,” he said casually “it just seems to me that a couple savvy hombres such as yourselves might think themselves clever by hiding a knife or such on you persons.” Wilson clearly knew what to look for and where to find it. In a few moments he relieved Clem and Al of a remarkable selection of boot daggers, derringer pistols, brass knuckles and other implements of mayhem that they had secreted in boot tops, vest pockets, inside their hats, even strapped to a forearm under a sleeve.
“You boys 'pear to have been looking for some trouble. I guess you found it, too. We’re all going to mosey on over to the jail now, and you can have yourselves that nap while I figure out just what I want to do with you.”
With Joe providing back-up, Wilson doubletimed the two gunmen back to the jail and secured each of them in a cell.
Clem just continued to smirk, but Al had plenty to say.

24

“Jes’ wait until Boss Connell hears about this!” Al hollered, banging on the metal bars of his cell with his tin cup.

Sheriff Wilson cocked an eye at him. Boss Connell? Where had he heard that name? No matter. Al and Clem were safely locked up, and he could continue checking on the stranger at the Silverlode with the lovely visitor.

As he was lighting a lantern to take with him back out into the deepening gloom, Tommy burst in

“Come with me, quick, now,” he said, yanking on the Sheriff’s sleeve. “There’s some big-bellied guy at the Tumbleweed taking potshots at everybody. He’s too drunk to shoot straight, but he’s scaring the hell out the customers.”

The stranger and the lovely visitor would have to wait. Sheriff Wilson checked the load in his pistol and hurried after Tommy. “Who is he? Did he say?”

“Said something about how Anderson’s Gulch was going to regret crossing Boss Connell, and how he was going to shoot the folk, one by one, until we told him where Belle was.”

“Belle? Who’s Belle?”

Tommy shrugged. “I dunno.”

25

A lone rider was a couple of miles outside of town just as the shooting started. Slim normally didn’t stray far from the Mississippi but he’s heard of some big poker game coming up in San Francisco next week and he wanted to get in on the action. In the darkness, he saw a figure run from the saloon, presumably going for the sheriff. Slim figured the local constabulary could handle the a little gunfire themselves. Then Slim heard the shouting, he recognized that voice but was unable to quite place it. He associated it with a frequent opponent of his but who? That varmint Jim Conroy or Connell, Conroy’s boss? Whichever one it was, the sheriff would have his hands full. Slim stopped outside the Tumbleweed, jumped off his horse and drew his Colts, wondering how he keeps getting himself into these situations. Slim heard a commotion off to his left, he turned and saw a pair of men were emerging from the jail.

“Now who in tarnation is this?” exclaimed Wilson.

Slim caught the gleam of Wilson’s badge and pointed his six-sooters skyward. “No time for pleasantries, Sherrif.”

26

Okay, being as we seem to be midway through this saga I thought I would take the time to do a plot summary of sorts, and make a list of (so far) unanswered questions that pertain to the story arc.

Anderson’s Gulch is the prototypical Western town. So far we know the names of two businesses in it, the Silverlode Hotel, and the Tumbleweed Saloon.

Cast of characters, in the order of their appearance:

Tommy, a bartender at the Tumbleweed,
One eyed Hank who’s full name we will learn is Hank Poole, and who is not the drunk he first appears to be.
**Belle ? **, a redheaded young woman, with “papers in her pocket”, and trouble following her, while she’s looking for
Bart Conroy, a “big hombre” with a questionable past and future, who knew Belle’s Pa in “the war”.
Sheriff Wilson, an aging lawman who’s hopes for a quiet slide into the sunset seem doomed to be disappointed.
Al Parker and Clem Jackson, two henchmen who are following Belle to retrieve those pesky papers she had, that belong to their Boss(whose name we are to learn is Connell)
Joe, hotel clerk at the Silverlode Hotel
The Charging Bear family, Sally(daughter), Charlie(father) and Caroline(mother) Charlie was a (presumably)Indian scout for the unit that Bart, Hank, and Belle’s Pa served in.
Slim ?, a gambler headed for San Francisco, with an unexplained urge to meddle on the side of the good guys when trouble starts.

People mentioned but not seen

Pa, Belle’s father. I’m presuming he’s dead or Belle wouldn’t be in the mess she is.
Jesse Parker, said by Belle to be dead, and “the only man she will ever love.”
Boss Connell, who sounds to me like the typical Western big rancher robber baron, although we don’t know for sure yet. Sheriff Wilson seems to recognize the name when he hears it.

Jim Conroy, who is probably the guy currently shooting up the Tumbleweed Saloon, because bosses usually leave this sort of thing to henchmen. Voice recognition made by Slim

Story arc questions:

  1. What war are they talking about? I have been assuming the American Civil War
  2. Why is Slim heading to San Francisco via a town like Anderson’s Gulch? And why travel by horse?
  3. What is the trouble that Pa got into with Boss Connell? Bart Conroy mentions he was gambling, helped into it by Bart. Why would a friend do that? Was it the drink? Or a con?
  4. Why do Bart Conroy and Jim Conroy have the same surname? Jim is certainly involved with the nefarious Boss Connell, and Bart might have been, although he isn’t now. Hmmmm
  5. Another name coincidence. When I named Jesse “Parker” I had forgotten that one of the henchmen, Al, is Parker too. Now Jesse helped Belle against the Boss, while Al is on the Boss’s payroll. Hmmm again.

Return with us again to those thrilling days of yesteryear, oh wait, that’s a different Western. Anyway, just wanted to say how much fun I am having in this thread. It’s fun to have to figure out how to change your plans when another poster takes things in a way you hadn’t thought of yourself. And I think every single poster here has made goods posts, and worthy advances to the storyline. I’m going to give it a rest for a little while, and make another post later on this evening. If anyone has corrections to make to what I’ve posted here, let me know.

27

Since the were my idea:

  1. Civil War would be most likely but the Mexican-American War might be possible.
  2. I forgot to mention it but Slim’s accent indicates he’s from Louisiana. He’s certainly making better time than he would by stagecoach or train.
  3. Jim’s last name is a coincidence on my part but could be interesting. Maybe he’s a relative?
28

Belle couldn’t believe her ears. Bart really had turned over a new leaf, if he was talking like this. Knowing him growing up as she had, he’d been a sort of “black sheep” uncle, fun, but getting her Pa into messes, the last and worst of which had been the gambling. With the mortgage on their farm lost to the land-hungry “Boss” Connell, Pa hadn’t seen any way out. Belle had been a more typical girl in those days, the days of courting by the handsome Jesse. But later, after Pa had “fallen” into the river and drowned, her thoughts turned to revenge. And Jesse, always there, had agreed to help.

She shook her head to rid herself of the sadness for now. Maybe it came from being tired.

The figure on the porch up ahead waved and hollered “That you Bart? Who you got with you?”

“Who the heck did you think it was you one-eyed old varmint, after what you said at the hotel? I’m not going to crook you either, not anymore. And this is Belle Kasson, Archie Kasson’s daughter.”

Hank looked at Belle and said appreciatively “Archie’s daughter? I never would have thought Archie could have a girl this pretty. But say, you two look all worn out.” Hank called back into the house “Charley? You got a couple of beds for these folks? We can thrash this mess out later.”

29

“Looks like you got a couple of escapees,” Slim said. “You go stop whoever is shooting up that there saloon, and I’ll go after these two.”

Sheriff Wilson didn’t stop to argue. He ran into the Tumbleweed as Slim turned toward Al and Clem, who were rapidly escaping in the dark.

Wilson didn’t stop to argue with the shooter in the saloon. He pasued behind the batwings, pointed his gun at the only man standing and waving around a gun, and plinked him in the leg with one shot.

With a bellow, the drunk man dropped like a felled oak tree. The Tumbleweed customers crawled out from under the tables and the Sheriff strode in and kicked the shooter over with his boot.

The man’s face was crumbled up in a grimace as he held his leg and cried. “Get the doc,” Wilson said disgustedly to Tommy. “I got to follow that other guy chasing Al and Clem.” Wondering what happened to his sleepy little town, Wilson rushed out the door again as patrons bellied up to the bar, ordering more shots to settle their nerves.

30

Wilson ran to his office for his Winchester and a couple sets of irons. His plan, at that point, was simply to put Al and Clem back behind bars.
Joe’s body lay on the floor in front of the cell that had held Clem. His head was bloody and distorted. Apparently, Clem had enticed the sometime-deputy close enough to the bars to get ahold of him and had beaten the man’s brains out against the bars. In direct violation of everything Wilson had ever tried to teach him, Joe must have had the keyring for the cells shoved in his pocket or belt. Well, he’d paid for his carelessness with his life.
Wilson noted, too, that Al and Clem had grabbed their revolvers from his desk, though they’d left their other weapons behind in their haste.
He used the little key on his watch chain to unlock the rifle rack and selected his “1 in 1000” Winchester rifle. He didn’t bother with leg irons or handcuffs. He decided he wouldn’t be needing them.

31

Al and Clem ran right past the blacksmith’s shop, unfortunately at the same time that Zeke Clayton was closing up for the night. Al ran right into bald-headed blacksmith, which had about the same effect as would running into a telegraph pole.

32

Belle gulped the hot coffee gratefully as little Sally stared at her open mouthed. She was so pretty and wild and sure of herself. Sally vowed to be Belle when she grew up.

Caroline put another piece of fried chicken on Bart’s place. “Thankee, ma’am,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

Charlie Charging Bear patted his daughter’s behind. “Run out now and brush down them horses. It’s near your bedtime.”

“Oh, Pa,” the girl moaned, getting up from the table.

“Don’t Pa me, Sally. You heard what I said.” Charlie fixed his daughter with the penetrating stare she knew all too well. Out the door she ran without another word.

“Set down, Caroline,” Charlie said. “You too, Hank. Now, someone start talking. I have a fear time’s gettin’ short.”

33

“Well” started Bart “You and Hank know how I’ve been a drunk for a long time. Belle here can tell you all about that. I’d get by for a while and then just had to go back to the booze. Messed up Archie big time when I got him gambling with Boss Connell, lost his place and all. Well I’m dry for good now…”

“I *thought * you looked different” put in Poole, “hadn’t even known you at first, till I heard you talk.”

“Guess it’s the laying off the sauce that done it. Anyway, I’d hit bottom after Archie died and Belle left. Then I saw the light…”

“Wait a minute” pounced Belle “Don’t tell me *you * got religion!”

“Sort of, it’s a long story that can wait. Anyway, I was still in with Connell, me and Jim both, so I decided to take what I knew and leave to find you both. But Belle found me first and here we are.”

Hank and Charley both turned their eyes on Belle questioningly.

“Jesse helped me steal a lot of documents I knew the Boss had” she began. “Tax things and ranch deeds and so on. There was a lot of stuff about mineral rights and surveys too. You know he kept wanting to get more and more territory. Well it turns out there’s more silver back there, copper too and maybe even a little gold. That’s why he kept squeezing folks, to get more for himself. Like I told Bart already, Jesse got shot covering me when we’d just about made a clean getaway. There must be some of Connells’ goons after me now, we heard a commotion in the Silverlode and hightailed it out of there.”

"So all we need to do is come up with a plan to keep you two alive while we take down Boss Connell?’’ sputtered Hank. “Well, I never did expect to live to be really old, and if it’s to help Archie Kasson’s kid I’m in.”

Caroline looked almost understanding as Charley started to talk, then caught a brown eye and ponytail lurking around the corner of the room. “Sally, what did we tell you? You get back where you belong!”

34

Sheriff Wilson caught up to the skinny man, who was bent over, laughing fit to split. Zeke was rubbing his forehead, a bemused expression on his face, and Al and Clem lay in the dirt, completely knocked out.

“I know they didn’t both hit you, Zeke,” Wilson said, holstering his pistol. “Even your head ain’t that hard.”

Zeke smiled ruefully. “That one ran into me,” he said, pointing at Al. “I knocked down the other one with my tongs.” He motioned to the huge metal tongs he used to lower the molten metal in and out of the water.

Wilson stuck out his hand to the laughing man, who was getting himself under control. “Sheriff Clay Wilson. Pleased to meetcha.”

Slim grabbed it. “Abner McLeod. Folks call me Slim. Likewise, Sheriff.”

“I don’t know who you are, but I appreciate your help. Zeke, you think you can help me move these two jackasses back to the jail?”

“Sure, Sheriff. Let me just rig up the wagon.”

Sheriff Wilson looked searchingly at Slim. “You’re about the twenty thousandth person to come to town today, and that’s highly odd for Anderson’s Gulch. I don’t suppose you’re part of what’s going on, do you?”

“Could be, Sheriff. Could be.”

35

Slim continued, “The fact that I’m even in your fair village is purely by serendipity. I took a wrong turn at some unmarked crossroad back there and here I am.”

Wilson eyed Slim, “You sure talk pretty, don’cha?”

“Given my profession, I find that it pays to be courteous.”

That only made Wilson more suspicious. “Profession? You some gunfighter, Slim?”

“No, sir, nothing like that.” He indicated his brace of pistols. “Actually, I’m glad that I didn’t need these tonight. I’m much better at poker than I am at shooting.”

36

Meanwhile back at Boss Connell’s ranch, he sits talking with his foreman, George.

“It’s been a week and those two nit wits you sent out after the girl haven’t been back, haven’t even heard from them.”

George hangs his head, he’s not a bad guy, just does what he has to for a pay check. He knows the Boss isn’t exactly the most law abiding citizen, but his loyalty to him is strong, perhaps to a fault.

“George, I want you to send out Johnny Boy and Matt, they’re good with a gun and don’t ask too many questions. Tell them to do whatever is necessary to get back those damn papers and make sure the girl doesn’t talk anymore than she already has.”

The Boss lights a cigar as George walks out of the room to attend to his task.

37

And in the Charging Bear home, Sally was standing her ground. “Connell? Was he the one who tried to drive us off?”

Charlie replied, “No, girl. Those were Teague’s boys and we done fixed 'em good. Now scoot!”

“But Pa, I want to help.”

Charlie was about to fix Sally with another stare when Hank spoke up. “Say, old friend, that might not be such a bad idea. We could use the extra firepower and you know her eyes are just as good as yours, if not better. Her aim, too.”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Sally.

“She’s small enough to hunker down somwhere and pick off anyone that comes around but they won’t see her.”

38

Will Santini, welcome to the thread! I liked your post. I also like how people posting here seem to keep track of the story’s continuity before posting. In a few more posts I’m going to do another story arc update, like I did yesterday.

Belle spoke up, although her eyes were drooping with fatigue. “What we do need to know is more about what is or isn’t happening back in town. Bart and I jumped out that window because there was a gosh-awful racket starting downstairs in the hotel. But I just *have * to get some rest, or I won’t be worth a nickel.”

“You can sleep in my room Belle” Sally offered eagerly. I can bunk on the floor."

“Rest sounds good for all of us” Caroline put in firmly, “but I’m not such a fool as to think we should all tuck in at the same time, not with trouble maybe headed this way.”

“I’ll take a watch in the front room” said Charley, in a voice that would match his stare. “When I get tired I’ll wake Hank. Bart, you mind sleeping on a cot in the kitchen? It’s at the back of the house here.”

“If nothing happens by morning I’ll be up to fix us all breakfast, then we can plan with clear heads” finished Caroline.

Sally tugged at Belle’s sleeve to show her back to Sally’s room. She had SO many questions to ask! But Belle was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow, but her last groggy thought was that this family seemed to take charge of more than bears.

39

Zeke brought the wagon around, and he helped Slim and Wilson load Al and Clem into the back.

“Let’s take them over to the jail, and then I’ve got to get back to the Tumbleweed, see if Doc showed up,” the Sheriff said.

“Go ahead,” Zeke said. “You can bring the wagon back tomorrow.”

“Mind if I give you a hand, Sheriff?” Slim asked. “Just in case these two wake up?”

“I’d appreciate the help. Climb in.”

Zeke waved as Wilson shook the reins and drove the wagon away. He shook his head, which was starting to get sore, and went back into the blacksmith shop.

Slim helped Wilson manhandle the two escapees back in the cell, and cuff them to the cot with the leg irons. They were both still out, although Al was starting to make some sleepy groaning noises.

“No rest for the weary,” Sheriff Wilson said. “Thanks for your help. I got to get back to the Tumbleweed.”

“Mind if I come along? I’m itching for a poker game.”

Wilson shrugged. “I don’t know that you’ll find one, but I’ll stand you to a drink, if you like.”

Slim shook his head. “Just coffee, if you don’t mind. I don’t drink.” He followed Wilson out into the dark.

“Anymore,” he whispered under his breath, hoping it was true.

40

Wilson pushed his through the batwing doors, closely followed by Slim. Other than a bloodstain on the floor, there was no sign of the man he’d shot earlier. All the Tumblweed’s “regulars” were huddled around the bar or at tables, drinking and discussing the shooting. Wilson knew from sad experience that the tale would grow in each telling. He’d come here to escape a reputation of being a fine hand with a gun. Now he was building a new one.
Tommy called out to the Wilson “That fellow you put down is over to Doc McCaulley’s place. Doc says you shot that fellow’s leg bone clean in half and the leg is gonna have to come off.”
Wilson didn’t react. If you didn’t wan’t to get hurt, then you didn’t point guns at folks in his town.
Slim’s eyes lit up as he spied a table where a few of the locals were half-heartedly playing cards while discussing the shooting. There were a couple of nearly empty liquor bottles on their table. If they were like most of the slack-jawed yokels he’d run across in grubby saloons, they weren’t very good players at the best of times. With a couple quarts of John Barleycorn in them and a shooting to talk about, he’d clean them out like a dose of salts. He put an ingratiating smile on and walked over to their table. “Would you gentlemen mind if I joined your game?”