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Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: A Frontier Christmas
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C
HAPTER
S
IX
Although the hotel had no exterior signs of Christmas on display, inside, there was a big banner on the wall in the ballroom. M
ERRY
C
HRISTMAS
TO
THE
B
USINESSMEN OF
C
HUGWATER
, W
YOMING
R.W. Guthrie was standing at the door greeting everyone as they arrived. “Duff, Meagan, I'm glad you could come.”
“Are you sure that it's all right for me to be here?” Meagan asked.
“What? Of course it's all right. Why would you even ask such a thing?”
Meagan pointed to the sign. Welcome to the business
men
?”
“Oh, my, I see what you mean. I had Peter Keith paint the sign for me, I should have paid more attention to it. Of course you are welcome, and I hope you find no fault with me for such a dereliction.”
“R.W., how can I find fault with my favorite politician?” Meagan asked with a laugh.
R.W. laughed as well. “Duff, does she tease you so?”
“Aye, Mayor, that she does. 'Tis a wonder I can find my way to spend any time with her.”
“Duff MacCallister!” Meagan swatted his arm.
R.W. laughed again. “It would seem to me like the two of you are equal adversaries on that front.”
“You're pushin' the season a bit, aren't you, R.W.?” Fred Matthews asked, coming in behind Duff and Meagan. “It's three more weeks until Christmas.”
“Well now, Fred, I suppose you could say that. But there will be other Christmas celebrations starting pretty soon. I know that some of the businesses and churches are planning events. There's a Christmas dance scheduled, and even some private individuals are holding parties. I thought it would be best to get this out of the way first, being as it's more official than anything else.”
“What do you hear from John?” Biff Johnson asked as he walked into the ballroom.
“I got a letter from him just this Monday,” R.W. answered. “Ha! Timmy wants a horse so bad that he can't stand it, but John keeps holding him off because he knows I'm giving him one for Christmas. I offered to give it to him already, but John says no, the boy needs to learn patience.”
“You know what I think?” Duff asked.
“What's that?”
“I think he already knows he's getting a horse for Christmas. Or at least, he figures to agitate enough make his pa come around.”
R.W. laughed. “I'd say you've got him down pretty good, because that is exactly what I think he's doing.”
“He's a good lad, and your granddaughter is growing up to be a beautiful young lass.”
“That she is, Duff, that she is. And it's a proud grandpa I am.”
“How old are your grandkids, R.W.?” Fred asked.
“Timmy is twelve. Suzie, his older sister, is fourteen. And she looks just like her mother, which is a good thing, because Nora is a beautiful woman.”
“I'd say John did very well for himself,” Fred said.
“Yes, well, I just wished I could have talked him into going into the building supply business with me. I sure would like to have my grandchildren living here in Chugwater.”
“You aren't fooling anyone R.W. You just want the extra votes from John and Nora,” Fred said.
R.W. laughed good-naturedly with the others. “Well, as you know, women do have the right to vote here in Wyoming, and you never know when you might need another two votes.” He looked around. “Looks like everybody's here. Oh, there's Curly Latham. How did I miss him? I'd better go speak to him.” R.W. left to greet the town barber, who was quite bald.
Russell Craig stepped through the doorway and chuckled. “Ha! If there's any way to milk another two votes, R.W. will find it. I'm telling you the truth. If he ever decides to run for governor, why, I believe he would win.”
“But has he nae been a good mayor? Or have I been made prejudiced by the fact that he is my good friend?” Duff asked.
“No, don't get me wrong,” Craig said. “I think he's been a great mayor. I can say this because, bein' as I am the city marshal, I've had to work with him quite a lot of times, and he's always given me whatever I needed to get the job done.”
The mayor returned to the doorway, and as more guests arrived, Duff, Meagan, Biff, and Rose moved on and took their seats at one of the tables. After a few moments, Marshal Craig joined them.
“Who's protecting the town, Marshal?” Biff teased.
“Not to worry, my friends. It's in good hands with my deputies.”
As the diners enjoyed the meal, the room was alive with the sounds of dozens of conversations, laughter, and the clink of silverware on china. Duff happened to look up toward the door and saw Titus Gilmore, the telegrapher. The expression on his face was grim.
Duff frowned. “That doesn't look good.”
“Oh, Duff,” Meagan said, putting her hand on his arm. “He looks like he is bringing bad news to someone.”
They watched as Gilmore started toward R.W., then, as if having second thoughts, he changed direction, and walked toward their table.
“Marshal Craig, maybe you'd better handle this.” Gilmore handed the message to him.
Craig nodded. “All right, Titus. Thank you.”
“I'm sorry. I'm awfully sorry.” Turning, Gilmore left quickly.
“That was strange,” Marshal Craig said. “I said thank you, and he said he was sorry.”
Craig opened the message and read it. “Oh, damn.” Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, damn.”
“What is it, Marshal?” Duff asked.
Craig's only response to the question was to hold out the telegram. Duff took it with some trepidation.
TO MAYOR RW GUTHRIE STOP SON JOHN AND FAMILY MURDERED STOP BODIES AT RAWHIDE BUTTES MORTUARY STOP AWAITING INSTRUCTIONS STOP MARSHAL WORLEY
“Duff?” Meagan asked.
As had been Marshal Craig's response, Duff said nothing, but handed the message to Meagan.
“God in heaven, how awful!” Meagan said after reading the telegram. Almost instantaneously, her eyes welled with tears.
“I don't blame Titus for leaving this with me to deliver,” Craig said. “I don't think I ever more fully understood the term, ‘let this cup pass from me' as much as I do at this very moment.”
“I'll come with you, if you'd like,” Duff offered.
Craig shook his head. “No. I appreciate the offer, Duff, but this is something I have to do by myself.”
“Marshal, you might want to take him outside before you tell him,” Duff said. “I think he might need a little privacy for such news.”
“Yes,” Craig agreed. “Good idea, I'll do that.”
Duff watched as Marshal Craig walked over to the mayor's table. He was talking to someone, and laughed just as Craig approached. The expression on his face changed from a smile to one of concerned curiosity when he excused himself from the others, then followed Craig toward the door.
“What's up?” asked someone at a nearby table. “Why did the marshal take the mayor outside?”
“What's going on?”
A buzz of concerned, but quiet conversation moved through the room.
A moment later, Marshal Craig came back into the room. He took Mrs. Guthrie by the arm and led her outside, as well.
“Oh, Duff,” Meagan said quietly, as she put her hand on his arm again. “What a terrible thing she is about to learn.”
The curiosity was palpable as people asked each other for an interpretation of the strange actions.
Marshal Craig returned to the room alone. Under the curious and watchful eyes of all present, he stepped to the lectern from which the mayor was expected to say a few remarks after the dinner. Though nobody as yet knew why, there was a dread certainty that the mayor would not be returning. Marshal Craig held up his hands to call for attention.
“What? Do you mean we're going to have to listen to both of you make a speech?” someone asked, but his joke died.
Marshal Craig looked at him, not critically, but with a solemn expression on his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have some very sad news to report.”
All fidgeting stopped as everyone paid very close attention to what the marshal was about to say.
“We have just received word that the mayor's son, John Guthrie, who I think most of you know—he lives near Rawhide Buttes—has, along with his entire family, been murdered.”
“What?” Curly Latham shouted. “Russell, that can't be true!”
“I'm afraid it is true,” Marshal Craig said. “I would like to ask all of you to bow your heads for a moment of silence. Afterward, those of you who haven't eaten your dinner, and wish to do so, may remain until you have finished. But all other activities are cancelled.”
All bowed their heads for a moment of silence until Marshal Craig said, “Amen.”
“Marshal Craig, what can we do?” someone called as Craig walked away from the lectern.
“You can pray for the mayor.”
“What about the funeral? Don't you think it might be a good idea if we got up a whole group of people who want to go, and all of us go over together?” asked Jason McKnight, one of the partners of McKnight-Keaton Shipping.
“Yes,” Marshal Craig said. “I think that would be a very good idea. You think you could organize it?”
“I suppose I could.”
“Jason, if you need any help, I'd be glad to do what I can,” Fred Matthews said.
“Thanks. We can start right here. Ever'one who thinks they'll be goin' to the funeral, leave your name with me or Fred Matthews.”
“Where did the mayor go?” someone asked. “I'd like to tell him how sorry I am.”
“He went home with his wife,” Marshal Craig said. “He begged to be left alone for the rest of the night.”
“Yes, of course. We should leave him alone.”
Meagan had not let go of Duff's arm, and she squeezed it tightly. Duff looked at her. She was crying quietly. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him.
“Oh, Duff. This is awful. This is so awful.”
“Yes,” Duff agreed. “I wonder who did it.”
“There's no telling, I suppose.”
“Whoever it is, he needs to pay for his crime.”
“He will. If not in this world, when he meets God,” Meagan said.
“I would like to arrange that meeting for him.”
“Duff, what do you mean? That's a job for the law, not for a rancher.”
“R.W. is a friend of mine, Meagan. Can you imagine how hurt he is with this happening so close to Christmas? I want the guilty person or persons brought to justice.”
“That won't bring his family back, Duff.”
“No, but it might bring him some personal satisfaction.”
“You're going to do this, aren't you? You are going to go looking for who did it.”
“I'm seriously thinking about it,” Duff admitted.
“You will go to the funeral, won't you?” Meagan asked.
“Aye, I'll go to the funeral,” Duff promised.
“May I have your attention, please?” Fred Matthews called out. “I would like for everyone who plans to attend the funeral to come over here and sign your name. We need as good a count as we can get so we can make all the arrangements.”
“Also, let us know if you'll be needing transportation,” McKnight added. “And if you have any vehicles you can make available. I can furnish as many freight wagons as we'll need, but it would be a lot nicer if we didn't have to use them.”
At the invitation of McKnight and Matthews, several people, including Duff and Meagan, moved over to sign the paper.
C
HAPTER
S
EVEN
Millersburg, Wyoming
It took the Cave brothers and Sunset Moss two days to reach Millersburg from Rawhide Butte, not because the distance was so great, but because they thought it might be best to stay away from any civilization for a while. They soon came to the conclusion that if they were going to stay out of sight, they would need supplies.
“We're goin' to do more 'n just go to the store, though, ain't we?” Sunset asked. “I ain't never had this much money before in m' whole life, 'n I'd like the chance to go into a saloon without worryin' whether I had me the price of another drink or not.”
“Me, too,” T. Bob said. “We are goin' to go to a saloon, ain't we?”
“Yeah, I don't see why not, long as we get some possibles first,” Jesse agreed.
The men stopped at Dunnigan's grocery, where they bought beans, coffee, flour, sugar, and a slab of cured bacon.
“You boys plannin' on doin' a little prospectin', are you?” Dunnigan asked as he totaled up the purchases.
“What do you mean?” Jesse asked, made suspicious by the question.
“Well, you got enough groceries here to stay out in the field for a month or more. I was just curious is all.”
“It ain't none of your business what we're plannin' to do,” Jesse said.
Dunnigan chuckled and held up his hand. “You fellas just pay me no never mind. I know how you prospectors are. Let's see, that'll be fourteen cents for five pounds of flour, forty-five cents for five pounds of bacon, thirty-four cents for five pounds of sugar, sixteen cents for five pounds of beans, and thirty cents for two pounds of coffee. All tolled up that comes to—”
“A dollar thirty-nine,” Jesse said, speaking up before Dunnigan finished.
“A dollar thirty-nine,” the grocer agreed. “Oh, my. Will you boys be out in the mountains come Christmas? Christmas is close, you know.”
“We may be,” Jesse said as he counted out the money.
“Well, then, let me be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas.” Dunnigan wrapped up the purchases and slid them across the counter. “And I appreciate your business.”
None of the three men answered as they started toward the door, and Dunnigan shrugged.
“Ernest, who were those men?”
Turning to his wife, he replied, “I've never seen them before in my life, Thelma, but they sure aren't very friendly. I can tell you that.”
 
 
With their packages stowed away in their saddlebags, the three men stopped at the closest saloon. C
OTTONWOOD
S
ALOON
was painted in white letters, outlined with black, on the false front of the building.
Stepping up to the bar, they bought a bottle, and each bought a beer, then they found a table. Soiled doves were circulating through the room, teasing the customers to buy drinks. Seeing them, T. Bob caught the eye of one and smiled at her.
“Found something to stir your interest, T. Bob?” Jesse asked as he took a drink of whiskey, then chased it with a drink of beer.
“Yeah, I like that one over there in the yeller dress,” T. Bob said, nodding in the girl's direction.
“The one in green is prettier,” Sunset said.
“The one in the green dress? Are you crazy?” T. Bob asked. “Look how skinny that 'un is. Why, layin' with her would be like layin' with a board 'n tryin' to poke your nose through a knothole. Besides which, if you'll just notice, she ain't even got no lady pillows.”
“Oh, she's got 'em, all right,” Sunset said. “I'll admit, they ain't very big, but she's got 'em.”
“Not so's you can see 'em,” T. Bob said. “Now, you take that gal in the yeller dress. Do you see that pair on her? They're just right.”
“Yeah, well, looks like you're about to get a closer look at 'em, 'cause she's comin' over here now,” Sunset said.
The woman in the yellow dress sauntered over to the table. Realizing she had caught the fancy of the three men, she put her hands on the table and leaned forward in front of T. Bob, giving him a good show down the scoop neck of her dress.
“Do you see something you like?” she asked pointedly.
“Yeah, but I ain't seen enough of it yet.” T. Bob smiled. “Although, I got me a feelin' you might be willin' to show me. What's your name?”
“The name's Lydia,” the girl answered.
“Well, Lydia, how about we go upstairs?”
“It's goin' to cost you,” she said.
“How much?”
“Two dollars, unless you want to stay the whole night. Then it'll be five dollars, but we can't take anyone on for an all night until after eleven o'clock.”
“Well, what say we do the two dollars now, and if I feel up to it, maybe we'll do an all night at eleven.” T. Bob grinned.
“That would cost you another five dollars, not just three more,” Lydia informed him.
T. Bob stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a large wad of bills. “Well now, little lady, I think I might just have enough money to handle that.”
She grinned broadly and put her arm through his. “I think you do as well.” She led him to the stairs.
“What about the other two?” she asked as they started up the stairs.
“What about them?”
“Are they just goin' to sit there? Maybe you haven't noticed, but I have several friends who are unengaged at the moment. “
“Is that what you women do? You get business for each other?” T. Bob asked.
“When we can.”
“Well, here's the thing, you see. As it so happens, neither one of them two likes women.”
“What?” Lydia gasped.
“They just like each other,” T. Bob said, laughing at the joke he was playing on Jesse and Sunset.
“Well, I never.” She looked back toward the two men, who had no idea of the joke T. Bob had just played on them.
 
 
A frustrated T. Bob sat on the edge of the bed. “I don't know what's wrong. I ain't never had that happen before.”
“Don't worry about it, hon. Those things happen to men from time to time.”
Naked, he began dressing. Once he had his long-handle underwear on, he padded over and took his pants from the back of the chair. The brooch that he had taken from Suzie's body fell out, making a thumping sound as it hit the floor.
“What's that?” Lydia asked as she sat up in bed. The sheet she had been clutching around her fell down, exposing her bare breasts.
“It's just a little doodad that I picked up somewhere.” T. Bob held it up.
“Oh, how beautiful!” Lydia said, reaching for it. “Can I see it closer?”
He handed it to her.
“Where did you get this?”
“I, uh, found it.”
“This is one of the most beautiful brooches I've ever seen.”
“You like it?”
“Yes, I like it.”
“I tell you what. You don't never tell nobody what happened here, I mean, uh, you know, that I couldn't, uh . . . preform . . . and I'll give that to you.”
“Oh, thank you! I won't say a word about it, I promise.”
“Only, don't wear it or anything until after we've left. If Jesse and Sunset see you with it, they'll know I give it to you, 'n they'll likely start askin' questions.”
Lydia nodded. “All right. It'll be our secret.”
T. Bob was just pulling on his boots when someone started knocking loudly on the door.
“T. Bob, you in there?”
He walked over and jerked the door open. “What are you doin' banging on the door like this?”
“We have to go,” Jesse said.
“Go? Go where? Why?”
“Come on out of that room and I'll tell you.”
T. Bob stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “What is it?”
“Read this.” Jesse shoved a newspaper into his hands.
HEINOUS CRIME
Entire Family Murdered
John Guthrie, his wife Nora, and their two children, Suzie and Timmy, were found murdered in their ranch home five miles north of Rawhide Buttes. Guthrie left a note identifying the killers as Jesse and T. Bob Cave, as well as Sunset Moss.
Their present whereabouts is unknown, but telegraphic messages have been sent to towns throughout the state.
“How the hell could he have left a note?” T. Bob uttered. “He was dead when we left him, wasn't he?”
“I reckon not. Damn, T. Bob, they've got our names. We got to get out of here.”
“Where are we goin'?”
“Anyplace but here.”
Fort Russell
The first of the Christmas season observances was being celebrated with much pomp and ceremony. The band played “Patriotic Numbers,” according to the program, and the post chaplain and Colonel Stevenson gave long addresses. After that, the cavalry unit presented a “Mounted Drill.” Smoke, Sally, and Matt were given positions of honor on the reviewing stand with Colonel and Mrs. Stevenson, and Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Carey. Carey was mayor of the nearby town of Cheyenne. On the grounds, many other civilians were present to watch the mounted cavalrymen perform.
Dressed in his finest uniform, as were all the other soldiers, Captain Charles E. Felker took center stage, giving the commands in a loud and authoritative voice. When the troops took the field, he was mounted on a horse in front of one long line, with all the troopers facing him.
“Column of twos, right!” Felker ordered, his voice rolling across the open area.
In one quick and very precise movement, the troop front formation became a column of twos, facing to the right.
“Guidon post!”
The soldier carrying the pennant galloped from the back of the formation to the front.
“Forward, ho!”
The column started forward with the horses at a rapid trot. Then, two by two, the riders jumped over obstacles. One file separated from the other and they rode in opposite directions before coming back so that the riders could weave in and out of each other.
The demonstration continued for half an hour, during which the soldiers proceeded at a gallop with sabers drawn, and made more leaps over obstacles. Finally, the troop returned to its original position of troop front where the men and horses were once again in one long line, side by side, facing Captain Felker.
“First Sergeant!” Felker called.
The noncommissioned officer left the formation and rode up to Felker, where he saluted.
Felker returned the salute. “Dismiss the troops, First Sergeant.” The captain turned his horse and galloped off the field before the first sergeant gave the order.
 
 
Colonel Stevenson and his wife hosted a dinner for Smoke, Sally, and Matt at their home. Dr. Millsaps, the post surgeon, his wife, and his twenty-one-year-old daughter Sue Ellen also attended. The seating arrangement around the table was such that Matt and Sue Ellen were sitting side by side.
Finishing dinner, they heard music from outside and quickly left the table to stand on the porch and listen as they were serenaded by the post singers, who sang not only Christmas carols, but many songs that were the particular favorite of soldiers, such as “I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.”
Quite cold, they hustled back inside after the impromptu concert. Colonel Stevenson built up the fire and popped corn over the fireplace.
“So, according to Colonel Stevenson, you have come up from Colorado,” Dr. Millsaps said to Smoke.
“Yes.”
“What have you heard about the outbreak of diphtheria down there?”
Smoke's eyebrows shot up. “Diphtheria? I haven't heard anything about it. Are you saying there is diphtheria in Greeley?”
“I've received information that it is quite rampant in that city.”
“Really? We came through Greeley on the train.”
“Did any of you leave the train?”
“No.”
“Did anyone board the train while it was there?”
“Nobody came aboard, either. Actually, the train didn't even stop there. It just went right on through.”
Dr. Millsaps nodded. “That is a very good thing. It means you weren't exposed.”
“Doc, can you really get exposed like that? I mean just being around someone who has the disease?” Matt asked.
“Unfortunately, you can. There have been outbreaks where as many as two hundred die in a single town. No stagecoaches are being allowed in or out of Greeley right now. The trains have been ordered to pass directly through, without stopping.”
“I thought I read that there was a cure for it now, some sort of anti-toxin,” Sally said.
“Yes,” Dr. Millsaps replied, looking at Sally with a surprised expression on his face. “How did you know that? There aren't too many doctors who even know that.”
“If you knew my wife, you wouldn't be surprised by anything that she knows,” Smoke said. “She used to be a schoolteacher, and she reads constantly.”
“Well, I'm most impressed with her,” Dr. Millsaps said, smiling.

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