Black falcon 9 part 3 family matters

 

 

9 family matters part 3

 

Luke tied off the rope on a fence rail for the time being, releasing Blackwind from his task, and went poking around in the barn. A broken buckboard missing a wheel would do fine. Luke lugged it out, noting that there were a number of farm tools wanting only a little industry to mend them. All of a piece with the sloppily-dug well, which did not have enough at its base to well up properly.  This homestead was well on the Eastbend side of Red Town, and Luke was considering suggesting to Bart and Jed that they file for it jointly, dig the well out properly, mend the tools, and fix the house and barn. It would save them a good year, and as there had been some sodbusting done, though they must weed, it gave them a start on raising crops. He had a look in the house. It was basic, but with a bit of help, the young men could improve it no end. Luke thought he wouldn’t mind a nice little lot like this himself. But he had plenty in the bank, and could take a lot anywhere he wanted when his wanderlust had diminished, and those boys needed a good start in life to make up for their fools of fathers, and the bad attitude around which they had grown up. If they made Eastbend their town of choice, they would do a lot better. Especially if Sam called on them from time to time. They were only two hours’ ride from Eastbend, and an hour’s ride from Red Town. If, as Luke surmised, a bad winter saw the end of Red Town as a community, it would do nicely.

Meanwhile, with the buckboard upended, and the rope around the axle, he might turn one of the wheels to winch up the sack with its grisly contents. He had a pack pony to carry the body back home... back to Eastbend, he amended. It was only home temporarily.  He uncovered the body long enough to fire a pistol into the dead body, to add verisimilitude to the story he had agreed on with Betsy.

He soon had the floursack tied onto the spare pony, and tidily covered the well, and put the buckboard away.

He had started for Eastbend when he heard hoofs, and a tall, heavily built man with iron grey hair and still-black upturned moustache caught up with him.  He was in his late forties and gave Luke a sneering look.

“Boy, am I on the right trail for Eastbend?”

“Well, old man, it’s where I’m headed,” said Luke.

“Don’t call me that,” snapped the man.

“Why not? You called me ‘boy’ so I thought insults were a part of your natural lexicon,” shrugged Luke.

“You ignorant sodbuster, I’m Colonel Chesterton. I’m looking for my brother’s place.”

Luke regarded him thoughtfully.

“You’re Brad Chesterton’s brother?” he said.

“Yes, you know him?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Luke. “You’re in luck; attempted murder isn’t counted a crime, so he isn’t in jail.”

“Nonsense! My brother is a righteous man, like me! He would never attempt to murder anyone, you heard that wrong, boy.”

Luke shrugged.

“I was with the sheriff when we stopped him,” he said. “So, you’re the Killer Colonel. Not that righteous.”

“There aren’t enough lawmen; the country needs bounty hunters, but I suppose you provincial hayseeds can’t understand that.”

Luke moved to standing in the saddle in one fluid move, and kicked the colonel in the teeth.

The other man fell from his horse.

“If you shoot me in the back, the law will be after a marshal-killer,” said Luke, as he rode on.

 

He managed to urge the pack pony to a trot, took two short-cuts, and arrived in Eastbend before the colonel.

“I’m going to kill that snotty fuck,” he said to Sam.

“I’ve never heard you be so coarse,” said Sam, mildly. “Which snotty fuck? Chesterton?”

“Yes, but not ours; his brother. The killer Colonel.”

Sam whistled.

“I wonder...” he said.

“I did, too,” said Luke. “I brought you a body. It’s Doug Waller. Officially, I killed him three years ago when I caught him assaulting the lady known as Big Betsy.  I left him in a well, not wanting to be bothered to collect the bounty when a lady needed help.”

“And will Betsy bear out your story?” asked Sam.

“She will. And you need to identify him.”

“After this time?”

“He’s in lovely condition,” said Luke. “Come and see.”

Sam came to look at the body in the flour sack.

“That’s Doug Waller sure enough,” he said. “His bounty’s on twelve hundred; the killing was before you were a deputy. You want to collect?”

“I do; and give it to Betsy,” said Luke. “I’ll get this to the undertaker. Oh, if the Colonel files a complaint about me kicking his teeth in, I considered him too insulting not to strike.”

“Oh, boy,” said Sam.

“I’ll give him satisfaction if he asks for it. Cavalry sabre,” said Luke. He took his burden to the undertaker, and returned the pony to the livery stable where he had hired it. Then he went back to fill out the paperwork.  Betsy gave her deposition, and Sam wired the information to the state capital.

Luke went into the saloon. He wore his sabre. Just in case.

“Tea,” he said.

Carson was used to Luke’s foibles and sullenly provided the tea.

 

oOoOo

 

The big man burst into Sam’s office.

“I was assaulted!” he said.

“Oh, you’re the bounty-hunting scum who insulted my deputy, are you?” said Sam, calmly. “He said he accepts your challenge and chooses cavalry sabres. Do you have one?”

“Oh, he does, does he? I shall enjoy carving out his tripes. But I have business first,” snarled the colonel.  “I’m on the trail of Doug Waller; he was last seen in the township over there.” He pointed in the direction of Red Town. “And his moll, Lighting-hand-Lil lives here; I’ve heard she’s a hostess,” his tone sneered, “at the saloon. Known as Big Betsy.”

“You’re too late for either of them,” said Sam.

“Too late? What do you mean?”

“If... and it’s only  if... Lightning-hand Lil is indeed the same person as Big Betsy, I’ve got her in the jailhouse investigating taxation fraud,” said Sam, who had settled on this with Betsy as a reason to hold her. “I’m waiting for an accountant to sort out the rights and wrongs of it.”

“And have you got Doug Waller in jail as well?” sneered the colonel.

“He’d be smelling a bit if I had,” said Sam.  “He’s been dead three years.”

“Dead! Are you sure?”

“I’ve seen the body,” said Sam.

“Why haven’t you told the authorities?”

“I have told the authorities,” said Sam. “Not my fault if you got out of date information. My deputy’s having tea in the saloon if you want to issue your challenge formally.”

“I’m not going to soil the honour of my blade on some sodbuster,” snarled the colonel.

“Mr. Sokolov is a gentleman,” said Sam. “His father runs tens of thousands of head of cattle as well as many wheatfields. And if you’re challenging, he has right of choice of weapon.”

“And does he have a sabre?” demanded the colonel.

“He does,” said Sam.

 

oOoOo

 

The colonel crashed through the batwings of the bar.

“What an uncouth fellow you are, to be sure,” said Luke. “You damaged my boot, you know.”

“You bastard!” growled the colonel. “I am going to carve out your tripes.”

“You want a death duel? All the same to me,” said Luke, indifferently, examining his finger nails. “Dawn tomorrow do you?  I hope you’re content with a one-fisted sabre duel, I only brought one with me, so unless you have more than a pair with you....”

“Who fights with two sabres? Are you insane?” said the colonel.

Luke shrugged.

“I was taught with two,” he said. “But I’ll fight with one.  See you tomorrow; take your ugly mug back to your brother’s place.  It may have been improved with a boot in it, but even so, it offends me.”

“I’ll fight you now!” snarled the colonel, starting to draw his blade.

“In the street, if you please,” said Luke. “You don’t want to make a mess in here, do you?”

The two men strode into the street, which promptly emptied.

Two men with those expressions meant business.

Faces appeared cautiously at windows; anything the deputy marshal did was a treat to watch.

“Who’s your second?” asked Luke.

“My brother; he’s in town; I’ll have him sent for,” said the colonel.

“Likewise I will send for Sam Stubbins, the sheriff; he’ll act for me,” said Luke.

There were always small boys fascinated by fights who could be sent with messages.  Sam had been waiting; Brad Chesterton strode up.

“What is this madness, Sheriff?” he demanded. “Your boy had better apologise, the colonel surely learned how to use a sabre properly in the cavalry.”

“Your brother challenged; Luke has right of choice of weaponry,” said Sam. “Yes, I know he’s your brother, and I’ll be questioning you later about a certain matter of theft from the mails. Meantime, Luke is not about to back down.”

Chesterton looked aghast that the relationship was known, and the colour drained from him. He decided to give up the pretence, however.

“Well, my brother certainly won’t back down,” said Chesterton. “Sokolov kicked him in the teeth, and that’s too much.”

“Not having heard what your brother said, I am unable to comment if it was too much. Though if Luke was on horseback and your brother on foot, I will suggest he was in the wrong.”

“He stood up on his horse’s back to kick my brother!” growled Chesterton.

“A consummate piece of horsemanship, not to fall,” said Sam. “A little showy; most of us would just have hit him. However, I think the preliminaries are covered; shall we get under way?”

 

When the two men drew swords, only their seconds were unsurprised.

The number of watchers increased; if there were not going to be any stray bullets, it would be a fine show.

Luke saluted.

His opponent blinked.

“That’s not what I would call a sabre,” he said, belatedly saluting with his.

“Yours isn’t what I call a sabre,” said Luke. “Bit of a toy, really. Do you want me to take a handicap?”

The colonel sneered.

“You won’t get very far very fast with something that heavy and slow,” he said. “You’re already handicapped. I have a fast, modern, precision blade.”

“It’s what I know,” said Luke. “Perhaps your fast blade will make up for being an old man.”

“I’ll show you how old I am!” ground out the colonel, coming in with a fast thrusting motion. Luke knocked it aside.

Both went onto high guard. The colonel came in hard and fast, and Luke parried, his sword disengaging before the colonel realised he had done so, making the older man lose balance slightly. Luke caught the man’s forearm on the tip of his sabre, and the colonel gasped to see blood.

“So sorry, do you need a breather as you are so feeble?” asked Luke.

The attack was frenzied, and Luke had to concentrate on his parries.

He learned a lot about his opponent’s style, however.  Luke pressed a cross-cutting attack, allowing the parry, and with a side step came up from the moulinet move to lightly cut the colonel’s face.  So light was the touch and so sharp was Luke’s blade, the colonel did not even realise he was cut.

“So, do you really want to fight to the death, or do you want to leave it as three cuts?” asked Luke, conversationally.

“I am going to kill you,” said the colonel. “This is stimulating, and I will enjoy cutting you up.”

“Oh, well, so long as we have established the rules,” said Luke. “Having cut you twice, if it’s not to three, I don’t have to be careful not to hurt you.”

“What? You cut me once, by accident, boy!”

“Twice, on purpose,” said Luke. “The wrist and your face.”

“You didn’t touch my face...” the man tailed off as he could feel wetness dribbling down his face. “You little shit!” he screamed, and went for Luke.

Luke had been waiting for it. He parried, went back onto high guard, pressed in an attack, disengaged from the parry, spun his sword in the moulinet, and let its weight help with the momentum to carry it up under his opponent’s ribs.

The colonel looked surprised for a moment, then a stream of blood came out of his mouth.

“They call it ‘hellish quarte,” said Luke. “You didn’t learn that one?”

The colonel gurgled and fell to his knees; and then onto his face.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” said Luke.

 

“He... he murdered my brother! Arrest him!” cried Chesterton.

“I heard him say he was going to kill Luke as well as you did,” growled Sam. “It’s legal enough in a duel. And I’m not sorry to have a vicious killer like your brother underground. I don’t like his methods.  And I don’t like how you tried to conceal that he was coming, to prevent me protecting a victim of the man he was pursuing, either. I know you’re not a thief as such, Brad Chesterton, but you assaulted Moses and stopped the mail, and that’s a federal offence, you know.  You’ve been prevented from committing cold blooded murder, you’ve acted as an owlhoot, and yet you act like you’re in the right. What in tarnation is wrong with you?”

“I... I didn’t want any trouble over Andrew!” said Chesterton. “I only took the mail for you, I left the rest to be found.”

“You also shot over the heads of the horses to make them run,” said Sam. “And once again escape by the skin of your teeth from being a murderer. If Luke had not caught up with the team and managed to slow them enough before the road bend, those five young women would have ended up in the river at its fastest and most treacherous. You disgust me, Brad Chesterton, and if you come to my attention for one more thing, so help me, I am going to hand you over for stealing the mail, and see how you do in a federal courtroom! But I have better things to do than to feed your stupid mouth in my jailhouse, so take your brother’s body and get the hell out of town and if I see you again before spring it will be too soon. Save to make an ex-gratia payment to Moses Burrell, whom you half killed.”

Chesterton growled; but he did not want to go to jail. Moses Burrell would have a generous payment.

 

Luke had cleaned his blade and returned it to its scabbard.

“And you can do the paperwork on it, young Luke!” said Sam, severely. “And well done.”

“Betsy will sleep quieter at nights now, I wager,” said Luke.

Sam gave a grim smile. He knew perfectly well that was why Luke had forced the colonel to lose his temper and call for a fight to the death.

As bounty hunters went, Luke Sokolov had a softer centre than most.

 

 

I know where I'm going but I've run out of steam a bit