Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3






	
    It was still early in the evening when O’Malley walked out of the Four Kings Saloon into the cool evening air. O'Malley felt his stomach grumble, he was hungry. It was the beer, he always got hungry when he drank alcohol. There was still a light on in the Silver Grill Cafe and the company of one Mrs. Johnson would help him fill two yearnings. A beautiful woman to look at and filling his alcohol-imposed hunger. "Good food and a beautiful woman." O'Malley smiled inwardly at the thought. He failed to notice a man waiting outside near the saloon. The man made no hostile move, but scrutinized O'Malley's path to the Silver Grill.
    Nine Mile was drinking coffee when O'Malley walked in. "John Roberts. Fancy meeting you here. Have a seat." Nine Mile almost shouted, and pushed out a chair with his foot.
    As O'Malley lowered himself into the chair Kate Johnson was at his side. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was unbraided and free. The flowing black hair cascaded down her back. Her dark eyes held untold promises and sent warm sensations through his body.
    "Are you eating, or just coffee Mr. Roberts?" Kate smiled broadly.
    "I'll have a steak. Cooked medium well and all the trimmings. And please, call me John. Mr. Roberts seems a bit formal to a cowhand." O'Malley gathered composure.
    "All right, John, your steak will be ready in a few minutes. Coffee to drink?" She grinned mischievously.
    "Coffee will be just fine." O'Malley smiling his answer.
    When Kate left their table, Nine Mile put on an all-knowing, coy smile. His eyes danced. "Seems you got a sweet-tooth for a widow woman." Nine Mile snickered.
    O'Malley could feel himself flush. "A Widow!" He felt a rush of excitement. "Damn your Nine Mile, you sure know how to get under a man's skin." O'Malley said defensively, with some embarrassment and irritation. "What gives you the idea I have a sweet-tooth for Kate?"	
    "Oh, no reason. Except maybe how the expression on you face changed and you eyes lit up when you heard the word, 'Widow'. Just thought I'd do a little fishing, and it looks like I caught a real whopper." Nine Mile laughed.
    "I'll admit she's a very attractive woman, and that's all I'll admit." O'Malley said staunchly.
    "So much for your love life. What did you find out at the Four Kings Saloon?" Nine Mile spoke in a low, serious voice.
    O'Malley told Nine Mile about his conversation with Maggie.
    "Son, you have opened a hornet's nest if Sam Slade is involved. There's two gunslingers on his payroll. Those two, have shot four men I know about and no telling how many more I don't know about." Nine Mile said with concern.
    "From what you say, Nine Mile, we may know who shot Tom, but we still don't know why. And we can't connect them together or to Sam Slade." O'Malley pondered the problem aloud.
    Kate returned with O'Malley's steak. "Here's your steak. I hope it's cooked to your liking. If not, just let me know." Kate dazzled O'Malley with her smile.
    "If you cooked it I'm certain it'll do just fine." O'Malley grinned.
    "I have a fresh apple pie for dessert, so you save some room for it, you hear?" Kate mocked a stern motherly voice as she shook a finger in O'Malley's direction.
   "Yes Mamma, I'll make certain I do." O'Malley said sincerely.
    Kate returned to other work and prepared the cafe for closing. As he ate the steak, O'Malley and Nine Mile rehashed the information, planned strategy and considered possibilities of the trap O'Malley had set by talking with Maggie. Neither of them noticed a man who stood across the street in the shadows, watching intently through the front window of the cafe. O'Malley planned to visit George Grant's ranch the next day to see if he could find out Tom's purpose for visiting Grant. Nine Mile said he would check around town and try to see how much land Sam Slade may have purchased, and where the land was located. He would also see if Tom bought any other land besides the land around old Fort Rockvale.
    Kate returned to the table. "Are you ready for apple pie now?" 
    "You bet." Assured O'Malley.
    Kate left to get the pie.
    Nine Mile stood up and said, "Well, I ain't about to sit around and watch a man make a pig out of himself. Besides, It's time I got home and fixed Buck his supper before he chews off the table legs." Nine Mile winked and offered a silly smile. "This will give you a chance to have your apple pie and the widow woman all to yourself." 
    Nine Mile laughed and ducked as O'Malley's napkin sailed past his head.
    Kate returned with the pie. "Where did Nine Mile get off to?"
    "He had to get home and feed Buck." O'Malley replied.
    "I'm really tired. Do you mind if I sit down and have a cup of coffee?." Kate asked.
    "It would be an honor." O'Malley felt himself turn red. His heart raced. "This woman has quite an effect on me." O'Malley thought. He liked the effect, and he definitely liked the "widow woman” part.
    The pair talked long after the pie was gone. Kate had been the wife of a rancher who was killed when his horse lost footing and fell. She ran the ranch for two years by herself, but found the task too hard to do alone. She sold the cattle and running stock and bought the Silver Grill cafe a year ago. She was a good cook and the cafe prospered. 
    O'Malley thought it best not to tell Kate about Tom and recent events in his life. He did tell her about his ranch and past experiences as an Indian scout. When Kate asked if he was married, O'Malley told of the fever and Sarah's death.
    "Well, if you're finished, I'll take your dishes to the kitchen , close up, and head home." Kate finally said.
    On an impulse O'Malley said, "I'll walk you home if you don't mind. It's dark out there and the bears are always digging around the garbage." 
    "I would like that, John." Kate said softly.
    Kate picked up her shawl, extinguished the lamps, and locked the front door. The pair walked slowly past several log cabins, talking about everything from the weather to the one black bear that sat eating garbage as he watched them pass.
    O'Malley felt very close to the woman as they walked slowly toward her cabin. He could smell the perfume she wore and the sensual odor that only a woman can possess. The moon was on the rise and the glow which bathed and illuminated her face and hair made O'Malley feel as if he were a school boy again.	
    "Here's my house." Kate said, stopping in front of a small log cabin.
    "It looks like a really nice place." O'Malley said, fishing for an invitation inside.
    "When I have it neat and clean, I'll invite you over to see the inside." Kate said, as if see could read O'Malley's thoughts.
    "I'll accept that invitation without any hesitation." O'Malley said eagerly.
    Kate smiled, and said, "What about next Sunday evening? The cafe is not open on Sunday. That will give me three whole days to get everything ready."     "I'll be here. What time Sunday?" O'Malley asked.
	"Say around 5 o'clock and I will fix you dinner." Kate toughed his arm.
    "Oh, don't go to all that trouble on my account." O'Malley said trying to be gracious.
    "I insist." Kate said sternly.
    "I'll be there." O'Malley felt his spirits lift. "Good night, Kate. It has been a real pleasure spending time with you."
    "Thank you for walking me home tonight, and I am certainly pleased you came to Red Lodge." She smiled again, turned and walked into the cabin.
    O'Malley walked back toward the main road in Red Lodge. He thought about Kate. She was the first woman to touch his heart since Sarah had died. He wondered what would happen between them in the future. He thought about holding her close and wondered what her skin would feel like to the touch. He wondered what it would be like to hold and kiss a woman again. It had been a while since he had experienced that sensation.  But, for now, there was a more pressing task at hand. Finding Tom's killer.
    The sound O’Malley heard was small, but he was aware he was not alone. Someone was following him. O'Malley cursed. He had set a trap and was too wrapped up in a woman to pay attention to what was going on around him. O'Malley quickened his pace, looking for a place he could lose whoever was following. Looking over his shoulder, he turned and saw the outline of a man in the darkness. O'Malley ducked behind a cabin, and froze in the darkness pressing his back against the wall of the cabin. Momentarily, the man walked into view. He paused near the cabin and looked about peering into the darkness. O'Malley felt the butt of the Colt .44 in the palm of his hand. Not seeing O’Malley, the man went down the main road. O'Malley waited for a few seconds, then walked to the corner of the cabin, and looked in the direction the man had walked. The man was still looking for O'Malley. He stopped and looked back in O'Malley's direction. O'Malley was too well concealed to be seen, so the man turned, and walked directly to the Four Kings Saloon.
    O'Malley followed at a distance until the man was inside. From across the street looking through the swinging doors of the saloon, he looked inside. The man was sitting at a table talking to Sam Slade. 
    Paydirt! O'Malley was certain Sam Slade either had something to do with Tom's murder or knew plenty about the killing. O'Malley also knew somewhere down the line he and Sam Slade would come head to head. O'Malley didn't like Sam Slade's looks or anything about him.
    O'Malley turned and walked back to Nine Mile Bill's cabin. He hoped he would find out something from George Grant the next day.                      
    During the night a storm rolled down off the Beartooth mountains, with strong winds accompanied by thunder and lightning, which lit up the night sky, heavy rains followed. Before dawn the rain slacked off to a steady drizzle, but the wind continued to blow from the northwest in heavy gusts. It was a cold wind for summer, but in country over a mile high, snow was always only moments away on any given day of the year. 

    Nine Mile put wood into the stove to warm the small cabin and to cook breakfast. 
    O'Malley had not slept much that night, not just because of the storm, but he could not put the death of his brother behind him. Nor did he want to. He also had an uneasy feeling about being the cheese to trap the rat. He knew the man who was following him the night before was working for or with Sam Slade. That in itself spelled trouble, deadly trouble. He knew it must have something to do with his brother's murder. Just who and why was still the nagging question. O'Malley let Nine Mile get the cabin relatively warm and had coffee brewing before he got out of his blankets. 
      
    O'Malley pulled on his pants and boots, walked to the wash basin poured cold water into the bowl and washed his face. 
    "Well, if it isn't the 'widow chaser' come to life after all." teased Nine Mile.
    O'Malley was not a morning person. He did not get serious about anything until after at least one cup of coffee. He even talked less in the morning than usual. Nine Mile's jab about Kate was ignored. With uncanny insight, Nine Mile sensed that O'Malley was not about to engage in conversation until he had got his first cup of coffee. 
    "Here is a cup of coffee for the sore headed old bear." Nine Mile said, as he poured the freshly brewed coffee and handed it to O'Malley. 
    O'Malley only grunted a thank you, took the hot cup, took a sip and wrapped both hands around the hot metal cup, warming his hands as the coffee warmed his insides. O'Malley sat there quietly sipping his coffee and slowly coming to life. The coffee seemed to really help. The smell of bacon seemed to add another lift to his awaking. 
    "Thanks for the coffee. I really need it in the morning to get me going." 
    Nine Mile only grunted his response to O'Malley. 
    O'Malley liked the old timer. Nine Mile was the type of man who could make a good friend for life and ride the river with. Never asking for anything for himself, but always willing to share with others even when he wasn't asked, and never imposing his standards or values on others. Nine Mile was a frontier philosopher and mountain man all rolled into one unique individual.
    After breakfast, O'Malley saddled Star and headed east towards George Grant's ranch. The wind was still blowing from the northwest strong and steady and occasionally in hard gusts. The trail up the east bench was familiar to both horse and rider this trip. O'Malley pulled down the brim of his hat and turned up his jacket collar in a vain attempt to block out the early morning windy chill. Star was given his head and he followed the trail from memory. The pace was slow but steady with the wind at their backs. They reached the top of the East Bench and rode on to the east with the wind tearing at them worse than when they were protected down in the valley. As O'Malley and Star began their movement toward the fork in the trail between Bearcreek and Dry Creek drainage’s O'Malley had that strange uneasy feeling crawl through his body starting at his neck and working its way down his back. O'Malley gave a quick glance over his right and left shoulders at his back trail. Nothing! He looked to the south, nothing! The trail had began to drop down and on the north side and the bank blocked his view to the south. On a hunch, O'Malley turned Star south to get to the crest of the bench again for a view to the south. As they topped the ridge O'Malley saw a movement of something dropping into a coulee and out of view. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, it could have been a deer, a cow, or it could have been a horse and it could have had a rider. O'Malley stared for a long moment in the direction of the unknown movement. 
    "Maybe we have a rat going for the cheese." O'Malley thought to himself. "No sense taking chances. Stay alert!" 
    O'Malley slid the Winchester out of the scabbard, levered in a cartridge, lowered the hammer, and placed the rifle across the saddle. O'Malley retraced his path to the north and the trail to the Fork. As O'Malley approached the fork in the trail that lead northeast into dry creek, the Grant ranch, and the Clark Fork valley beyond. He recognized the fork as the same location where his brother had been murdered. Three hundred yards before O'Malley reached the fork he sensed danger once again. O'Malley could feel he was being watched. Without looking to either side he urged Star into a gallop. None too soon for O'Malley. The distinctive whine of a bullet passed close to his head, then he hear the sound of the rifle shot a split second later. O'Malley hung low in the saddle as Star lurched forward into a full run. The second bullet whined past his head as he raced toward the cottonwood trees, the rifle report followed. O'Malley played a strange trump card, he turned parallel with the cottonwood trees in thick sagebrush, the sagebrush did not offer the same protection as the trees and little protection from a bullet and did not hide the horse or rider. The third bullet whined and O'Malley was falling from the saddle. The bullet had missed its mark, but O'Malley fell to the ground and did not move. The high sagebrush hid a man lying on the ground. Star pulled to an abrupt halt when O'Malley left the saddle. He turned and slowly walked to within a few feet where his friend and master was lying. O'Malley hoped the gunman would come to his location to check on his deadly handiwork. Moments passed, then minutes. In that time O'Malley had cocked the hammer on the Winchester and kept it at the ready. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Star and knew if anyone approached Star would look in the direction of the approaching stranger. Star did not fail O'Malley in that task, Star watched as a lone man on foot, with a rifle slowly and cautiously approached the riderless horse and the fallen rider. O'Malley knew he would only have a single chance to take the man with the rifle. He knew the direction the man would come from by watching Star. O'Malley positioned himself so he could watch through some sagebrush. O'Malley wanted to take the man alive. He would have the answers to questions as to why and who killed his brother. The sagebrush provided good concealment for O'Malley. The slowly approaching man wore a brown dusty hat, a blue shirt, brown vest, and faded blue denim pants. He wore his pistol on his right hip, and he looked to be in his mid twenties. The Winchester rifle he carried was at the ready and he was looking about frantically in an attempt to locate his quarry. O'Malley slowly and carefully aimed at the mans right shoulder. By shooting him in the right shoulder he could reduce the possibility of a right handed man using his pistol after the first shot. He aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. As the rifle fired, the man was knocked back, and he spun around as the bullet smashed into his right shoulder. The rifle he was carrying went flying into the sagebrush as the man spun backward and hit the ground. O'Malley sprang from his hiding place and rushed to where the man was lying on the ground moaning and holding the already blood soaked right shoulder. O'Malley took cover behind a large boulder. O'Malley had reached a spot a few feet from the man. 
    "Move and you're a deadman!" O'Malley said between clenched teeth and with meaning. 
    The man's face grimaced in pain, his eyes were wild with fear and anger. O'Malley remained low to the ground behind the boulder. 
    "Use your left hand unbuckle your gun belt!" O'Malley said with calculated control. 
    With some difficulty the man unbuckled the belt. 
"Get up and move over here." O'Malley said as he pointed the rifle directly at the man's heart. 
    The man had great difficulty in gaining his feet and staggered slightly as he moved slowly and hesitantly toward O'Malley's position. 
    O'Malley glanced at the shoulder wound and said, "You'll live long enough to answer questions and then hang."  Standing a few feet away from O'Malley while holding his shoulder, blood oozed between the fingers of his left hand and flowed down his right arm. 
    O'Malley asked, "Why did you try to ambush me?" 
 "I thought you were a cattle rustler." The man lied.
"Like hell!" snapped O'Malley, "There ain't a cow within a mile of where we are right now."  "Who are you and who do you work for?" 
    The man gave no answer and never would! The blood spattered on O'Malley as the bullet passed through the man's heart. The distant report of a rifle reached O'Malley as the man crumpled to the ground. O'Malley moved lower and closer to the boulder as the whine of another bullet ricocheted off the boulder very close to where he was standing. O'Malley's Winchester answered the shots, as he began to return fire at the rocks on the small knoll above his position. O'Malley mentally thanked the experience he had gained while fighting Indians. Indians always seemed to travel in pairs or more. Had he exposed himself he would be the one laying dead instead of the ambusher. Yes, there was more than one man involved.  
    After a half a dozen rounds of return fire there was no answering fire from the knoll. O'Malley waited. Time went slowly by. Nothing! O'Malley looked to Star to see if he could give any indication as to any movement he might detect and would be looking in the direction. Star was pawing the ground disturbed by the smell of blood and gun smoke on the wind. There was a small coulee about fifty feet to O'Malley's left which would give cover, and he felt he could not wait forever. In one agile and quick move he was on his feet and running. He hit the coulee, rolled and hit the ground. No bullets whined. He was either too quick or the other man was gone. O'Malley looked over the terrain and planned the best path with cover and concealment to assault the ambusher's position. While planning the attack he reloaded the Winchester. Moving from predetermined position to the next O'Malley expected a whine of a bullet. He continued to look and move strategically, moving ever closer to his objective. The closer he got the more certain he was the rifle shooter was gone. The rocks where the shots had come from were now only about fifty feet away. O'Malley cursed the strong and gusty wind for covering the sounds which would have told of a horse leaving, a dust trail, or a sound of movement in the rocks. O'Malley belly crawled the last fifty feet. Carefully he peaked over the rocks. There was a horse tied to a juniper tree. Only one horse and at least two men. The other man had probably left. A slow and careful inspection of the area confirmed his suspicion. There were two other men and they had left. O'Malley found five spent rifle cartridges on the ground in the rocks. All were .44 caliber. O'Malley examined the saddle bags of the horse tied to the tree. Nothing of interest, or any information as to who the owner might be. Extra shirt and pants, .44 caliber ammunition, and nothing else. O'Malley examined the tracks left by the other men's horses which led away in the general direction of Red Lodge. O'Malley looked at the bootprints left in the sand by one of the men. The stride indicated the man was less that six feet tall, and weighed around 175 pounds. The other man was at least six feet tall and weighed over 200 pounds. O'Malley's old scouting skills were being used once again. O'Malley considered what his next actions would be. He could hide the horse and body in the rocks and trees, and continue on to the Grant ranch and pick the horse and body up on his way back to Red Lodge. Maybe the sheriff or someone could identify the man in Red Lodge. Then again, if the men were still in the area they might come back and find the body and horse. The body could be gone when he got back. O'Malley suddenly felt very tired as the excitement drained from his body. He would not take anymore chances. He would take the body to Red Lodge. He could always go over to the Grant ranch tomorrow.
    O'Malley picked up the gunbelt and tied the body across the man's horse and he and Star led the way up the trail to the east bench and down into Red Lodge. O'Malley did not want to call any unnecessary attention to himself or to Nine Mile or provide any information to anyone else interested in the shooting. 
    O'Malley took the most inconspicuous route to the sheriff's office. He dismounted at the back door, tied the horses and walked around to the front. The sheriff was not in the office, but the deputy went to find the sheriff when O'Malley told him of "finding" a body on the trail. 
    O'Malley figured if he told the whole story the sheriff might not believe him and after all the man was shot in the back as well as the front. 
    The sheriff sauntered up to O'Malley but did not speak. He walked directly to the body grabbed the greasy hair on the man's head and lifted it high enough to get a good look at the man's face, squinting and bending at the knees as he did so. "Local drifter. His name's Al Kingsley do you know him?” 
    "Never laid eyes on him before and the name doesn't mean anything to me." O'Malley answered. 
    " I've seen him around town a few times. How'd this happen?" asked the sheriff, as he dropped the head and wiped his greasy hand on his pants. 
    O'Malley told of riding over toward the town of Bearcreek and as he approached the fork leading into Dry Creek he hear a shot and thought it might be a hunter. When he got closer, he saw a man on foot, holding his right arm and running away from a rocky knoll. A second shot dropped the man in his tracks, then a third shot was in O'Malley's direction. O'Malley returned several rounds at the rocky knoll without really seeing anyone on the knoll, and the shooting stopped. When he got to where the man had fell, he was dead, shot once in the shoulder from the front and once through the back. O'Malley worked his way up to the rocky knoll and could not find anyone, except three empty cartridges. 
    O'Malley took three shells from his shirt pocket and handed them to the sheriff. O'Malley then continued. "The man's horse was close by, so I caught the horse loaded the body and brought it to town. That's all I can tell you."  
    The sheriff examined the shell casings very carefully and then the body. "What's your name and what were you doing over around Bearcreek? The sheriff turned his attention to O'Malley.
    "The name's John Roberts and I was on my way to see George Grant over in Dry Creek about some cattle." O'Malley half lied. "I have only been in town a few days." 
    "Where you been stayin'? Here in town, or camping out?"
    "I have been bunking at Nine Mile Bill's place down near the creek beneath the east bench."  
    "Friend of Nine Mile's are you?" the sheriff said as he raised an eyebrow. 
    "Not exactly, he is a friend of a neighbor of mine up north of here." 
    "That neighbor got a name?" the sheriff asked. 
    O'Malley felt his temper flare a bit. "Now look here sheriff, I brought the body in, I could have left it on the trail. I am just trying for be a good citizen. I ain't looking for trouble. Why all the questions?" 
    The sheriff backed down a bit. "This is the second killing we have had in these parts in less than two weeks, and as near as I can tell, it happened in the same area." 
    "Well I have told you all I know and have given you the three empty cartridges I found. That's all the help I can be. If you find out anything, I will be at Nine Mile Bill's." O'Malley said with finality.
    "OK, lets start over what's the name of the friend of Nine Mile's where you’re from?"
    "Butcher, Lonnie Butcher."
    "Where you from?"
    "Smith Valley."
    The sheriff rubbed his chin, turned to his deputy and said, "Get this body over to the undertakers this man and I are going to take a ride out to where this feller was killed. Mr. Roberts you and I are going to take a ride."
    "All right, if you think it will help." O'Malley agreed. It would give him a chance to talk to him about the other murder. Maybe he could find out something about Tom's death.
     
    The sheriff and O'Malley rode back out of town and back to the fork where the shooting took place. O'Malley showed the sheriff where he "found" the body.
    The sheriff looked around, found the Winchester Kingsley had dropped when O'Malley had shot him. He checked the rifle to see if it had been fired recently and began to backtrack Kingsley to the knoll. O'Malley followed along.
    The sheriff looked over the area in the rocks where O'Malley had found Kingsley horse.
     "How did you find the horse again?" the sheriff asked suspiciously.
    "I came up to this knoll to see where the shots were coming from and found a horse here. I figured it belonged to the dead man." O'Malley said truthfully.
    "There were three men here. Kingsley started out from here. He left his horse here and walked down the slope to where he was shot. It doesn't make sense. Why would he leave his horse, walk down the hill and then who ever was with him or followed him shot him while he was on foot." the sheriff said aloud.
    "It doesn't make any sense."
     "Did the last murder around here make any sense?" O'Malley asked.
    "Well the man didn't have any money on him and all his pockets were turned out. I think he was robbed."
    "Well maybe I got here too soon for them to rob the dead man." O'Malley offered.
    "Possibly. But I don't like the looks of things." the sheriff looked around again and then looked at O'Malley.
    "What were you doing over here?"
    "I was on my way over to George Grant's place to talk to him about some cattle." O'Malley lied.
    "How long you planning to stay around these parts?"
    "For awhile. I plan on buying some cattle before winter sets in." 
    "Buying cattle?" the sheriff said suspiciously.
    "That's right sheriff. Buying cattle."
    "Let's ride back to town there's nothing else to see up here." the sheriff said.
    "Any ideas who shot this man or the other man?" O'Malley asked.
    "Nope."
    "What was the other man's name?" O'Malley asked.
    "O'Malley, Tom O'Malley."
    "Was he from around here?"
    "Nope, but he came through this area from time to time. No body seems to know what he did for a living. Some say he was a land speculator. We haven't found any next of kin to give his personal effects to. Had to sell his horse and saddle to pay for the burial. Still have a suitcase that belonged to him in my office."  The sheriff said.
    When O'Malley and the sheriff got back to town O'Malley turned Star toward Nine Mile's cabin.
    "Don't leave town right away. I may want to talk to you about what happened out on the trail again." The sheriff ordered.
    O'Malley nodded, and rode to the cabin.
Proceed to Chapter 4