Do or Die

Chapter Eight

Denver

Colorado Territory

Charley Pickett was elated when Enos Howard announced he would help track down the Hoodoos. His high spirits were crushed, however, by the next statement out of the buffalo hunter’s mouth.

“I sold my horse a while ago, so you’ll have to buy me one. I’ll need supplies too. Ammunition, for starters. It’s been a year since I squeezed the trigger. I need to practice to get my eye back in.” Howard paused. “What’s wrong, cub? You look like you just swallowed a cactus.”

“I don’t have the money to buy you a horse,” Charley confessed. “Heck, I don’t even have a horse of my own.” Charley looked at Tony. “You must have enough. Care to chip in for the cause?”

“I was wondering when you would get around to asking.” Tony pulled out his wad of stolen bills. “I am willing to contribute it to the cause, but it will not be anywhere near enough.”

Howard swilled whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. “Seems to me that you younguns don’t have this very thought-out. What did you reckon, that horses and food would fall out of the sky? To outfit us right, we need about eight hundred to a thousand dollars.”

Charley’s brainstorm came crashing down around him in tiny shards. “That’s an awful lot of money.”

Howard broke it down. “A good saddle horse costs about two hundred. Saddles run from thirty to sixty, dependin’ on whether you want a good one or one that will leave your hind end so sore at the end of the day you can’t sit down. Cartridges cost from fifty cents to a dollar a box.” He stopped as if struck by a thought. “How many of you have a rifle and a revolver?”

None of them answered.

“No one? What do you figure to do? Throw rocks at any hostiles we come across?” Howard tittered.

“Add guns to the cost. Plus bridles, saddlebags, blankets, coffee, flour, butter, sugar, cheese. Hell, I could go on and on.” He tugged at his beard. “There’s somethin’ I’m missin’. Somethin’ important.” He began to raise the bottle to his mouth, grinned, and waved it in the air. “Tarantula juice! I reckon twenty bottles should do me. And a crate to pack ’em in so they won’t break.

“How much money do you have?” Charley bleakly asked Tony.

“Two hundred and two dollars.”

Howard made a clucking sound. “You pups are pitiful.” He indulged in more whiskey; over three-fourths of the bottle was gone. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “I know! We can rob a bank!”

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Melissa admonished.

“Folks do it all the time. It’s how many a coon has raised a grubstake. And if’n it will make you feel any better, we won’t take all their money. Only as much as we need.”

Charley shook his head. “You’re missin’ the point. We want to hunt a gang of outlaws, not become outlaws.”

Howard sat back. “Suit yourself. We should forget this silliness and go on about our own business then. Without horses and whatnot, we’re not going anywhere unless we sprout wings and fly.” He flapped his arms a few times and laughed. “Dang. I must have left mine in my shack.”

“I have money,” Melissa said quietly.

Everyone faced her.

“I’ve been saving every spare penny since I left home. I don’t intend to sell potatoes my whole life, you know. My dream is to open a millinery. Here, or in St. Louis maybe. With all the latest fashions, the newest dresses—”

“All that fofarraw is fine and dandy, Missy.” Howard cut her short. “But what’s more important is how much you have squirreled away. Because if it’s not enough, I’m walkin’ out that door and robbin’ the first bank I see.”

“The last time I checked, I had a hundred and sixty-four dollars.”

Howard snorted. “That settles it.” He stood and turned to go.

“Sit back down!” Charley commanded and smacked the table to emphasize his point. “We’re not robbin’ banks, and that’s that!”

“Then you can kiss all that bounty money good-bye.” Offended, Howard walked over to the bar.

Charley was crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I guess I put the cart before the horse. I barely have seventy dollars to my own name.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Melissa covered his hand with hers. “I admire a man who’s looking to get ahead.”

“Thanks.” Charley’s neck grew hotter than a burning brand. He was content to sit there forever with her touching him.

For a long while no one said anything. Then Tony commented, “I’ll catch the noon stage to Santa Fe tomorrow. Two months from now, I’ll be in California. What will you do, my friend?”

Charley hadn’t thought that far ahead. He would continue working at the stable for the time being.

“You know,” Melissa said, and her own voice sounded peculiar. “Everyone says that two people can make a go of it better than one.”

A keg of black powder blew up in Charley’s chest. His skin prickled, and he thought he would stop breathing. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant. He was going to ask her to explain, but a shadow fell across the table and the stale smell of an old buffalo coat filled his nostrils.

“I’ve had a talk with myself,” Enos Howard announced, “and I’ve decided to chip in enough to make up the difference.” He finished the last of the whiskey. “On two conditions.”

“Chip in what?” Charley asked suspiciously.

“Don’t fret. I’m not fixin’ to rob anything. But I know how to get my hands on a right smart amount, right quick.”

“How?”

“That’s my secret.” Howard’s confidence was both inspiring and troubling. “But if I chip in more, I expect more. I want two thousand dollars of the bounty, and when it’s all over, I get to keep my horse, the pack animals, and whatever supplies are left. Agreed?”

Charley did the arithmetic in his head. He had never been a wizard at large sums, so it took a bit. His share would come to a little over sixteen hundred, which was still plenty. “Sounds fair to me.”

“What I would like to know,” Tony said to Enos, “is why you changed your mind so suddenly about coming along. And why you are being so helpful. Most strano.”

“I have my reasons.” Howard held out a hand. “Do we shake on it or not?”

They shook.

From there, events proceeded quickly. Almost too quickly for Charley. He gave his notice to Mr. Leeds, who insisted on knowing all the details. Charley expected Leeds to tell him they were loons, but not only did the stable owner wish them well, he offered to sell them three horses at a special price of one hundred and thirty dollars each, which was twenty dollars less than what Leeds could sell them for to most anyone else. They were older horses but not so old as to be worthless.

Charley cheerfully accepted.

Next, Leeds took him into the tack room, and they searched along the back wall where Leeds kept harness and tack that had seen a lot of use. Two saddles and several bridles were added to Charley’s growing collection, along with four saddle blankets that Leeds had been ready to toss. They were frayed and worn but would suffice.

Falling asleep that night was next to impossible. Charley lay on his back in the hayloft staring at the rafters and wondering what on earth he had let himself in for. He was willing to bet the Hoodoos wouldn’t surrender without a fight, if they surrendered at all. But he had never fired a weapon at another human being in his life. All he ever shot was game for the supper pot.

Then there was the bigger issue, the one that had Charley’s conscience gnawing at him like a chigger boring through flesh. He never should have invited Melissa along. Not on so dangerous an undertaking. It wasn’t too late to tell her she couldn’t go. That was the sensible thing to do. But heaven help him, he liked the idea of being with her day in and day out for however long it took to find the outlaws. They could talk about things, get to know each other better.

Who am I kidding? Charley thought. He was usually so tongue-tied around her that he was afraid to speak out of fear of making a fool of himself. Fortunately, she jabbered enough for both of them, and she seemed to really like him, which amazed him no end. The girls in Kentucky had been friendly, but only a couple had ever showed him much interest, and the few times he had gotten up the nerve to ask a girl to go out with him, he’d run into the same problem he had with Melissa. He couldn’t string more than three intelligent words together for the life of him.

Charley made a mental note to keep an eye on the buffalo hunter. Enos was old enough to be Melissa’s pa, yet he was always putting his arm around her shoulders and generally being more familiar with her than he had a right to be. If Howard persisted with that behavior out on the prairie, Charley would put a stop to it.

Then there was Tony. Charley was as sure as sure could be that Tony had no interest in Melissa. Not in the way he did anyhow. The way they sniped at each other, and the comments dropped by Melissa, led him to believe something had happened between them. Something he might not like. Part of him wanted to corner Tony and demand an explanation. But Tony was his best friend—his only friend, when it came right down to it—and he was reluctant to put their friendship in jeopardy by making accusations which might or might not be true.

Sleep snuck up on him, and Charley slept soundly until the crow of the rooster interrupted a dream he was having in which Melissa and he were doing things that would have made him blush if he’d thought about doing them when he was awake. He was only halfway down the ladder when someone pounded on the wide double doors.

“Open up! Are you awake in there, boy? Or are you a layabout who wastes his days in bed?”

Charley and the others had agreed to meet at the stable at eight a.m. It couldn’t be much after six. He removed the long bar and opened a door. “Make more noise, why don’t you? You probably woke up everyone within ten blocks.”

Enos Howard glanced both ways, then quickly stepped inside. “Took you long enough. What did you do, come by way of Arkansas?”

“You’re early.” Charley left the door open so that Melissa and Tony could walk right in when they arrived. But the buffalo hunter closed it. “What’s with you? You’re actin’ like someone is after you.”

“Let’s just say we don’t want any grass to grow under us.” Howard had a rifle with him, an old Sharps. “As soon we have our horses and supplies, we need to light a shuck.”

“What have you done?” Charley asked. “You promised not to do any robbin’.”

“And I’m a man of my word. But money don’t come easy. I had to shake the trees some to get the apples to fall.”

“How much do you have?”

“Not enough by itself. But with what Missy and you and the Italian have, it should do us.” Howard flourished more money than Charley had ever seen anyone hold in their hand at one time. “Five hundred dollars.”

Whistling in surprise, Charley reached for it, but Enos slapped his hand. “Keep your paws off. I rustled it up, and I’m holdin’ on to it until we work out how it should be spent.” Enos shoved the money back in his pocket.

Charley felt slighted. It wasn’t like he was fixing to steal it or anything. “I’ve got something to show you,” he said testily.

The three horses Leeds was letting them have were in stalls at the rear. Piled nearby was the gear. Enos examined each of the animals and the saddles and bridles and snorted. “So you reckon this liveryman is doin’ you a favor? Hell, these nags are only a couple months shy of bein’ turned into glue. And this tack is older than I am.”

“If you think you can do better, you’re welcome to try.” Simmering mad now, Charley went to the front. He was sick and tired of Enos treating him like he was wet behind the ears. Maybe he was, in some respects, but that didn’t give Enos call to harp on it like he did.

Soon Leeds arrived. Charley introduced them and girded for an outburst from Enos, but the buffalo hunter stunned him by acting as gracious as a parson at a church social.

“I want to thank you for helpin’ us. It’s fine gentlemen like you who are the salt of the earth. A lot of people are only out for themselves, and they don’t give a hang who they step on.”

“All too true,” Leeds said solemnly. He looked Enos up and down. “You’re not quite what I expected. I remember reading about your fight with the Blackfeet at the chalk cliffs. It was the talk of the territory.”

“That it was,” Enos declared with pride. Then his features darkened. “So was my try to break Buffalo Bill’s record and that shootin’ match I had with Comstock. Everywhere I went, I was looked down on.”

“You did your best. What more could be asked?”

Enos clapped Leeds on the shoulder. “That was a darned decent thing to say. Most folks weren’t as charitable. Every saloon I went in, someone would haze me. It got so I couldn’t stand it anymore. So I came to Denver.”

“Few barbs hurt worse than laughter,” Mr. Leeds sympathized.

“Now who’s talkin’ truth?” Enos said sadly.

Charley was amazed they were hitting it off so well. Leeds was a teetotaling churchgoer, Enos a natural-born hell-raiser. They couldn’t be less alike if they tried, yet there they were, smiling and jawing like they were the best of friends. Intent on their banter, he didn’t realize someone else had arrived until he heard a low cough.

“Charley Pickett! I realize I’m not much to look at. But you could at least have the courtesy to say good morning.”

“Melissa!” Charley sprang to help with her effects. Crammed into a carpetbag were all her worldly possessions. She also had a shoulder bag that she held on to. “I didn’t see you there. You’re early too.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Melissa had no sooner stepped inside than Enos enfolded her in a hug. In his exuberance, he lifted her clear off the floor. “Missy! I was afeared maybe you would change your mind!”

Mr. Leeds was horrified. “You intend to take a woman along?” He made a passionate appeal for them not to do so, citing a host of reasons: that manhunting was no fit occupation for a woman; that she would be exposed to constant danger; that if she fell into the hands of hostiles, they would mistreat her in the worse way imaginable; that she must endure heat and dust and insects and wild animals.

Melissa let him have his say, and when he was done, she thanked him sincerely but stated that she could not afford to let the opportunity pass. “I need the money, Mr. Leeds. You know yourself that jobs for women are too few and pay too little. I stand to make as much in a couple of months as would take me ten years or better to earn.”

“Money is never easy to come by, young lady, I’ll grant you that. But there has to be a safer means to acquire it.”

“Name me one way I can make as much in as short a time, and I’ll forget about going after the outlaws,” Melissa challenged him.

For a few seconds Charley was scared Leeds would come up with one. He was being selfish, he knew, but he dearly wanted her along. He had high hopes they would grow a lot closer. But he need not have worried.

“I cannot think of one,” Leeds said. “So if you insist on taking part in this perilous enterprise, I pray the Good Lord keeps you safe from harm.” Leeds then surprised Charley by hugging her.

The hinges to one of the double doors creaked, and in came Tony. He was dressed in his usual city clothes and carrying his valise. “Buon giorno. Against my better judgment, I am here.”

Again Mr. Leeds was introduced. He excused himself to go into his office but only after taking Charley aside to remark, “Not that I don’t enjoy squandering time that could be spent working, but need I remind you of the rather nasty gentleman with the cane? He promised to come back, if you’ll recall. It might be prudent for you and your friends to be gone when he does.”

Charley hadn’t forgotten. The fix Tony was in was always at the back of his mind, spurring him to get done and get out of there. “So, where do we commence?” he asked his fellow would-be manhunters. “With the rest of the horses we need? Or with the supplies?”

“What kind of tomfool question is that?” Howard said. “All the supplies in the world won’t do us a lick of good if we don’t have horses to tote them.” Chewing on his lower lip, he gazed down the street. “I suppose you expect me to go along and help you out?”

“Talk about tomfool questions.” Charley gave him a taste of his own verbal abuse. “Of course you’re taggin’ along. You’re the only one of us who knows what he’s doin’.”

“Which is not saying a whole lot,” Tony muttered.

Enos removed his heavy coat. “Where can I hang this that no one will steal it?”

Before Charley could reply, Tony said, “Who would want to?”

The buffalo hunter rounded on him. “Is there somethin’ botherin’ you, boy? Speak up, and we’ll hash it out. Because I don’t take sass off anyone. Ever. And I don’t want to upset Missy by stompin’ you into the dirt.”

“I do not like being threatened.”

“Then you should be a sight more careful about whose tail you step on. Enos glowered and fingered the hammer of his rifle.

Charley stepped between them. “Will you two cut it out? You’re worse than a pair of brothers. We’re on the same side, remember? The sooner you two simpletons realize that, the happier all of us will be.” He still thought they might tear into one another, but Melissa came to his aid.

“His sentiments are the same as mine. Tony, have you forgotten the favor Mr. Howard did you by distracting Radtke’s men? And Enos, if you’re going to arch your back and spit every time anyone ruffles your fur, you’d best bring forty bottles instead of twenty to keep your mouth plugged.”

Enos let out with another of his belly-shaking laughs. “Gal, if you don’t beat all! You’re right. It’s the little things that get stuck in our craw and fester and sore. But for you’re sake, I’ll swallow as many of ’em as I can.”

Charley hung up the smelly buffalo coat in the tack room. It was the first time he had seen Enos Howard go without it. As they hurried down the block, he noticed that Howard was as nervous as a squirrel on a porch full of cats. Enos continually glanced every which way, his head tucked to his chest like he was trying to slide his chin down to his navel. Once again, Charley wondered about the money Enos had scrounged up.

It turned out, though, that the buffalo hunter was worth his weight in money saved. He was a world-class haggler. When they found an item they needed, Enos leaped into the fray and badgered the clerk into lowering the price. It didn’t always work. Maybe eight times of out ten. Enough to stretch their dollars a lot further than Charley had figured.

General store by general store, stable by stable, they acquired what they needed. Their horses weren’t the best. Fact was, the animals weren’t much above the bottom of the barrel. And some of the others things, like the moldy cheese and the stale bread and the knives with spots of rust on the blades, weren’t items most people would stoop to accept. But they got it all at a discount, thanks to Enos, and that was what counted.

Their second-to-last stop was Olinger’s Guns and Gunsmithing. Mr. Olinger was a pleasant old fellow who nodded knowingly when Enos said, “We need us some hardware, old-timer. Artillery that will blow the brains out of anything inclined to do us harm but won’t bankrupt us in the bargain.”

Crooking a finger, Olinger took them into a back room. There, in glass cases and on wall racks, were guns he had been unable to sell for one reason or another. A few were outdated flintlocks. Some were percussion firearms. A lot were foreign-made.

“I discount all these,” Olinger said.

“Even the nickel-plated ones?” Charley had seen one he liked.

“Guns, like clothes, have their fashions. What is popular one year might not be popular the next. All anyone wants of late are the latest Colt revolvers and Winchester rifles. Nothing else will do. So the foreign models go wanting.” Olinger paused. “Just the other day I tried to sell a cowboy an excellent Merwin and Hulbert pistol, but he shook his head and told me if it isn’t a Colt, it isn’t worth carrying.”

“I never realized there were so many kinds.” Melissa was beside a case of derringers.

“Few do, young lady,” Olinger responded. “Scho field, Bacon, Prescott, Uhlinger, Brooklyn Firearms—they all offer outstanding firearms, but I’d warrant hardly anyone has ever heard of them.”

Charley sure hadn’t. “If that’s the case, why carry any?”

“Some I’ve taken in partial trade. Others because there’s always that one customer in fifty who doesn’t want to buy what everyone else buys.” Olinger opened a case and removed a finely engraved pistol. “Some I stock because they’re works of art.”

It took over an hour. Olinger patiently showed them gun after gun. Enos haggled over each and every one. In the end, each of them had a rifle and a revolver and some extras besides.

Enos was pleased. As they were leading their new horses back to the stable, he crowed, “The king of hornswogglers, that’s me! I ain’t met a coon yet I can’t talk down in price! I’m a fox and a badger rolled into one! Slick as axle grease and trickier than a politician!”

“And modest too,” Tony said.

Enos was about to tear into him, but he abruptly dipped his chin to his chest and slouched along like he was having the worst day of his life.

Charley looked in the direction that Howard had been staring and spotted a burly policeman. The policeman hadn’t noticed them. Soon they arrived at the stable and finished loading packs and throwing on saddles.

Mr. Leeds came out to see them off. “I wish, for her own sake, that you would reconsider taking Miss Patterson.”

“Hell’s bells, friend, don’t dampen our spirits right out of the chute!” Enos had donned his buffalo coat and was his usual boisterous self. “We’re goin’ off on a grand adventure! She’ll have herself a larrupin’ time the likes of which these greeners won’t forget the rest of their lives.”

“Just so they live through it,” Leeds commented. “Bring them back alive, Mr. Howard.”

“I’m not about to make any promises I can’t keep, hoss. It’s not up to me. It’s up to the Almighty. And he’s mighty fickle, if’n you ask me.” Laughing, Enos spurred his sorrel mare.

With that, the four manhunters rode out of Denver. Charley came last, leading the pack animals and wondering what in the name of all that was holy he had gotten them into.