Rampage of the Mountain Man

Chapter Six

As the two cowboys rode down to the opposite end of town, they saw a fistfight in progress in the street in front of the livery. One of the combatants was a soldier in uniform. He was wearing sergeant’s stripes on his sleeves.

The other combatant was a civilian. The civilian was much younger than the soldier, but he was nearly as big, and he was more than holding his own.

As the cowboys got closer, they saw that the civilian was Mike Kennedy. Kennedy worked for the livery stable as a hostler and as an apprentice blacksmith. Mike was about the same age as Cal, and, in fact, the two were good friends. Mike was younger and smaller than the sergeant, but he was strong and whatever it was that started the fight had filled him with resolve. At first there had been a sly smirk on the sergeant’s face.

“Boy, I’m goin’ to play with you for a bit,” the sergeant said. “Then I’m going to hurt you, and I’m going to hurt you bad.”

But Mike was proving to be a little more than the sergeant expected. The sergeant swung hard with a roundhouse right, but Mike, who was quick and agile, ducked under the swing, then countered with a left jab to the sergeant’s nose. It was considerably more than a light jab, because the soldier’s nose went flat, then almost immediately begin to swell. The sergeant let out a bellow of pain as a trickle of blood started down across his mustache.

“Why, you snot-nosed kid!” the sergeant shouted. “I’m going to knock your block off!” He swung with another roundhouse right, missing again, and this time Mike caught him with a right hook to the chin. The hook rocked the sergeant back, but it didn’t knock him down.

By now a rather substantial crowd had gathered to watch the fight, and everyone was rooting for their champion. To the surprise of both Cal and Pearlie, there seemed to be about as many soldiers cheering for Mike as there were supporting the soldier.

Mike scored with two more sharp jabs, and it was now obvious that the sergeant was on his last legs. He was stumbling about, barely able to stay on his feet. Mike had set him up for the finishing blow when one of the soldiers who had been supporting the sergeant suddenly grabbed the boy from behind. With his arms pinned, Mike was an easy target for the roundhouse right that, until now, had missed.

The sergeant connected and Mike’s knees buckled, but he didn’t go down. Pearlie slid down from his horse and before the sergeant could throw another punch, Pearlie brought the butt of his pistol down on the head of the man who had grabbed Mike. The man collapsed like a sack of potatoes and, though Pearlie and Cal were prepared to have to defend the action if need be, Pearlie found himself cheered by the crowd, civilian and soldier alike.

With his arms now free, Mike was able to finish the fight with two more blows, setting his man up with a hard left jab, then dropping him with an even harder right cross.

With the fight over and nothing to hold the spectators’ interest, the crowd broke up. Several of the soldiers dragged their beaten comrade away with them, leaving Mike standing in the middle of the street, breathing hard from the exertion.

It wasn’t until that moment that Pearlie realized the fight hadn’t been as one-sided as he had thought. Mike had a cut lip and a swollen eye. The boy walked over to the watering trough and dipped his handkerchief into the water.

“Here, let me do that,” Cal said, taking Mike’s handkerchief and dabbing lightly at his lip.

“Thanks, Cal,” Mike said.

“What was the fight about?”

“The soldier took some oats from Mr. Lambert’s livery. When I told him he had to pay for them, he called me a liar. One thing led to another and the next thing you know, we was fightin’.”

“Kennedy, you’re fired!” a man said, coming up to them then.

“Mr. Lambert, that soldier was stealin’ oats from you.”

“He said he wasn’t,” Lambert said.

“He was, I seen him do it.”

Lambert shook his head. “Well, that don’t matter none anyway,” he said. “What’s a nickel’s worth of oats? You get the army mad, we won’t get none of their business. All for a nickel’s worth of oats? It just ain’t good business, boy,” Lambert said. “’Bout the only way I can make up for it now is to fire you.”

“But Mr. Lambert, I need the job,” Mike said.

“Sorry, boy, but business is business. Besides, this ain’t the first time you’ve got into a fight. And I told you last time I wasn’t goin’ to put up with no more of it. You’re fired.”

A couple of the soldiers overheard the conversation, and they came back up to talk to the livery owner.

“Mr. Lambert, don’t take it out on the boy,” one of the soldiers said. “I don’t know whether Sergeant Caviness stole any oats or not, but I do know that Caviness is a hothead, and he hit the boy first.”

Lambert waved his hand. “Well, he wouldn’t have hit Kennedy if the boy hadn’t done somethin’ to provoke him. He’s fired, and that’s it.”

Lambert turned and started striding purposefully back to the livery.

“I’m sorry,” one of the soldiers said. “It ain’t right that you get fired for somethin’ Caviness done.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about it,” Mike said. “Truth is, I think Mr. Lambert was lookin’ for an excuse to fire me anyway. I know he’s been complainin’ about how much it costs to keep me on.”

“Yeah, well at least you taught Sergeant Caviness a lesson,” the other of the two soldiers said. “He’s a bully who hides behind his stripes. He knows that none of the soldiers he picks on can fight back without windin’ up in the stockade. That’s why there was so many of ’em cheerin’ for you.”

“I welcome the support,” Mike said. “But I still lost the job.”

“Pearlie, what do you think?” Cal asked.

Pearlie nodded. “I think yes,” he said.

“What are you two talking about?” Mike asked.

“You’re goin’ to be lookin’ for another job, right?” Pearlie asked.

“Yeah, I reckon I will be,” Mike answered.

“How’d you like to come work for the Sugarloaf?”

“What?” Mike asked, brightening considerably at the offer. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

“Do you think Mr. Jensen would hire me?”

“We’re hirin’ you,” Pearlie said.

“You?”

Cal nodded. “We’re fixin’ to drive a herd of cows up to Wyoming,” he said. “Smoke sent us into town to hire some men. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

“Yes, sir, I want the job!” Mike said excitedly. “You better believe I want it.”

“Good. Now we just need to find five more men.”

“Three,” one of the soldiers said.

“What do you mean I only need three more?” Pearlie asked.

“My name is Andy Wilson,” the soldier said. He pointed to the other soldier. “This here is Dooley Thomas. We’d be happy to come work for you if you’ll have us.”

Pearlie shook his head. “Huh-uh,” he said. “I’m afraid not.”

“Why not? We’re good workers,” Andy replied.

“You’re also in the army. I ain’t goin’ to hire no deserters, and I know Smoke won’t.”

Andy smiled broadly. “Well if that’s the only problem, then it ain’t a problem,” he said.

“And why isn’t it a problem?”

“’Cause we ain’t deserters,” Andy said. “Get your paper out, Dooley,” Andy said to his friend. As Dooley pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket, Andy did the same. He showed the paper to Pearlie.

“What is this?”

“These here is our discharge papers,” Andy said. “Me’n Dooley has done served our time, and we got ourselves mustered out this mornin’. We’re still wearin’ uniforms ’cause we ain’t got us no civilian clothes yet.”

Pearlie read both papers, then he looked at Andy. “According to this paper you’re from Cincinnati, and Dooley here is from Boston.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right.”

“What did you do before you come into the army?” Pearlie asked.

“Well, sir, I worked down on the river docks, loadin’ and unloadin’ boats,” Andy said.

“I worked in a factory making bricks,” Dooley said.

“A dockworker and a brick maker,” Pearlie said. “There won’t be much call for loadin’ boats or makin’ bricks during this drive.”

“Wasn’t much call for loadin’ boats or makin’ bricks in the army either,” Andy said. “But we both learned to soldier.”

“I need cowboys. Do either of you know anything about cows?”

“They give milk,” Dooley said.

“Horses can give milk,” Cal said.

“Well, I can tell the difference between a cow and a horse,” Dooley said.

Pearlie looked surprised for a moment; then he laughed out loud.

“Well, I’ll give you credit for honesty,” he said. He stroked his chin. “I reckon anyone who can learn how to soldier can learn how to cowboy. All right, you two go with Mike. Mike, get your tack and go down to the general store. Miz Sally is down there getting supplies. You can help her load the wagon.”

“Who is Miz Sally?” Dooley asked. “How will we recognize her?”

“She’s the boss’s wife,” Mike said. “And don’t you be worryin’ none about recognizing her. She’ll be about the prettiest woman in town. I know what she looks like.”