Massacre at Powder River

Chapter Twenty-six

It was a little before nine o’clock in the morning when Matt heard them coming. Lying flat on the rock and sliding back so as not to be seen, he watched them approach.

“Poole, you get up there and keep a lookout. When you see him comin’, give us a signal.”

The one called Poole started up the side of the bluff and Matt knew that he would be coming to this very rock, so he slipped down from the rock and started down, so that as Poole was climbing up, Matt was climbing down.

“Hey, Greer?” Poole called back.

“Yeah?”

“What’s the reward on killin’ Jensen?”

“Logan says Teasdale has offered five thousand dollars to anyone who can kill Jensen.”

“Does that go for us, too?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Ha! And what do we get from him for each cow we steal? Five dollars? We’d have to steal a thousand cows to make that kind of money. He must really want him dead.”

“Yeah. So tell me, are we goin’ to shoot the son of a bitch here? Or are we goin’ take him back to the cabin?”

“Logan wants us to bring him back to the cabin,” Greer said.

“Yeah, you know why he wants us to bring him back. That’s because if we take him into Logan before we kill him, it would be a six-way split. But if we kill him here, it will only be a three-way split.”

“You want Logan mad at you, do you? I don’t know about you, but Logan ain’t the kind of man I want to cross. He said bring him back to the cabin, and that’s just exactly what we’re goin’ to do.”

“Hey, Poole,” Bragg called up. “Do you see him comin’?”

“Nah,” Poole shouted back. “I don’t see nothin’.”

“Hell, if he’s goin’ to get here at ten o’clock, you ought to see him by now. No doubt he’ll be followin’ the river. Look again.”

“I did look again,” Poole said. “I ain’t seen ’im.”

“Damn,” Greer said in a conversational voice to Bragg. “What if he don’t come?”

“I don’t know. We’ll kill the boy, I reckon.”

“Yeah, I guess so. You’d think he would come, though.”

“Really? Think about this. He has to know that if he comes here, he’s comin’ to get hisself kilt. Now let me ask you. Would you do that? Would you trade your life for the boy’s life?”

“Hell no,” Greer said. “But Jensen is different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know, different how. Just different. What time is it?”

Bragg took out his pocketwatch and looked at it. “It’s ten o’clock,” he said.

“And I’m right on time,” Matt said, stepping out of the tree line.

“What? What the hell?” Bragg said. “Greer!”

“Yeah, I see him,” Greer said.

Matt was standing not more than thirty feet away from Greer and Bragg. And while the two Yellow Kerchief Gang men had their pistols in their holsters, Matt had his gun in his hand, leveled at them.

“Where did you come from?” Greer said.

“It ain’t a question of where, it’s a question of when,” Bragg said. “You didn’t just get here, did you?”

“Your friend is smarter than he looks,” Matt said. “I got here early. Very early. Call Poole down.”

“Poole?” Greer called.

“Yeah?” Poole’s voice floated back down.

“Come down here.”

“What for? I ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“He’s already here,” Greer said.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean he is already here, standing right in front of us. Come on down.”

Matt moved a bit deeper into the tree line and watched as Poole stepped out to the edge of the flat rock where Matt had spent the last several hours. Poole had his pistol in his hand, and he was looking down toward Greer and Bragg.

“What do you mean he’s standing in front of you? I don’t see him,” Poole said.

Matt stepped out of the tree line so Poole could see him. “I’m right here,” Matt said. “Why don’t you come on down and join the party?”

“The hell I will!” Poole said. Raising his pistol he aimed and fired at Matt. The bullet clipped a few pine needles off a branch that was but an inch away from Matt.

When he saw that Poole was about to shoot at him, Matt raised his own pistol and fired simultaneously. Matt saw the puff of dust and a little mist of blood where his bullet hit the middle of Poole’s chest. Poole dropped his pistol, staggered a few steps forward, then pitched off the rock, doing a half turn on the way down so that he landed flat on his back.

Bragg made the calculation that with Matt’s attention diverted by Poole, he wouldn’t be able to respond quickly enough if he drew on him. The calculation was wrong. Even as he was drawing his gun, Matt turned toward him with his pistol blazing.

If Greer had given a thought to drawing on Matt, he abandoned it quickly and put his arms up in the air.

“I ain’t goin’ for my gun! I ain’t goin’ for my gun!” he shouted.

Having heard the shooting, Logan, Poindexter, and Clayton came out of the cabin. Logan and Poindexter had pistols in their hands, Clayton was holding a double-barrel shotgun.

“What the hell was that shootin’ about?” Logan asked. “I told them I wanted them to bring him here.”

“Logan, look!” Poindexter said. “Someone is comin’ up the path.”

“There’s only two of ’em,” Logan said. “Wait, that’s Greer. Ha! Lookie there, boys! Greer’s got the drop on ’im! Good man, Greer, good man!” Logan shouted.

As the two riders approached the house, Matt was riding in front with his hands in the air. Greer was behind him, holding a pistol.

“What happened?” Logan asked. “Where’s Poole and Bragg?”

Suddenly Greer turned his horse and bolted.

“Shoot ’im! It’s a trick!” Greer shouted. “I ain’t got no bullets in this gun!”

Clayton raised his shotgun, but before he could fire, Matt drew his pistol and shot, taking Clayton first because he believed the shotgun presented the most danger.

Before Matt could turn his pistol on Logan and Poindexter, they darted back into the cabin and slammed the door.

“We’ve got the boy in here!” Logan called. “And if you don’t throw down your gun and put your hands up, we’re goin’ to ...”

“Logan! Where’s the boy?” Matt heard Poindexter shout. “He ain’t here!”

“What do you mean he ain’t here? We just left him.”

Matt smiled. “Good boy, Winnie!” he called. “Wherever you are, just stay there until I tell you to come out.”

“You was supposed to watch him!” Matt heard one of them say.

A full-sized man couldn’t have done it, and probably not even a small man. But Winnie had gone into the fireplace, then climbed up into the chimney. It had originally been his intention to escape through the chimney, but except for the very base of it, the chimney was much too narrow. Winnie had his feet on one side and his hands on the other, wedged in position and hanging on for dear life.

“What the hell! Where is he?” Logan shouted in anger and frustration.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Poindexter replied.

“Logan,” Winnie heard Matt call. “Do you remember what you did to four of Frewen’s cowboys? Do you remember when you set fire to the shack and burned them out?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” Logan replied.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Matt said. “Because I’m about to give you a taste of your own medicine. I’m going to set fire to the cabin. You can either come out, or you can stay in there and burn to death. And frankly, I hope you stay in there.”

If Matt Jensen actually did set fire to the cabin, Winnie knew that he would be trapped in here. Should he call out?

No, he decided. Right now Matt Jensen had the advantage over Logan and Poindexter. But if Logan and Poindexter had him, his advantage would be lost. If he surrendered now, he would not be killed in a fire, but Matt Jensen would certainly be killed. And after they killed Matt, Winnie was fairly certain he would be killed as well. On the other hand, Jensen might yet be able to save both of them.

Winnie decided to stay where he was.

Outside the cabin, Matt began gathering up some dead limbs and dry pine needles. When he got them together, he piled them up on the front porch, then struck a match to them. The dry pine needles flamed up as quickly as if they had been soaked in coal oil. The dried wood of the cabin caught easily, and within less than a minute the fire was leaping up to the porch roof.

“You’d better make up your minds pretty quick!” Matt called. “This whole thing will burn down in just a couple of minutes. Come out slow, with no guns and your hands up!”

Suddenly the front door opened and Logan and Poindexter came out, not slow and unarmed as Matt had demanded, but running, shouting and firing their pistols. Matt took both of them down with two quick shots.

“Winnie!” he called. “Winnie! Are you here, hiding somewhere? It’s all right, they’re dead!”

Matt heard coughing, and looking toward the front door he saw Winnie running through it, waving his arms to keep the smoke away.

“Winnie!” Matt shouted, and he darted through the flames that were already licking at the front porch, scooped Winnie up, then ran back out into the open area with him.

“Winnie, are you all right? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in there!”

“I’m all right,” Winnie said, coughing a few more times.

Winnie was covered with black soot from head to toe.

“What the hell? Are you sure? How did you get so black?”

“I hid in the chimney of the fireplace,” Winnie said.

“Like Santa Claus?” Matt teased.

“Mama has told me that in America Father Christmas comes down the chimney, but I have seen drawings of Santa Claus and from what I saw in the chimney, I don’t think that is true.”

Matt laughed, then wrapped his arms around Winnie and pulled him to him. That was when he saw Greer raising a rifle, aiming at them.

“Get down!” Matt shouted, shoving Winnie forcefully to the ground. Matt dropped to one knee just as Greer fired, and he heard the bullet snap as it popped just over his head. Matt returned fire and Greer fell back.

A couple of hours later, after stopping at the river to allow Winnie to clean up and also to retrieve his journal, the two of them rode through the front gate of Frewen Castle.

“Winnie!” Jennie screamed in joy, running from the porch with her arms outstretched. “Winnie, oh, thank God you are safe!”

“And thank Mr. Jensen,” Winnie said.