Snow

Chapter 7

When Pete Turner rode into Dodge City, he'd had several ideas as to how he would get the Marshal to help bring Yancy to justice. Of course life never goes as planned and in the end he had decided just to walk into Dillon's office and tell him the truth - except of course about the killing outside the Cantina three years ago. He needed the lawman to trust him and confessing to a murder was not a good way to start that conversation. In the end all his ideas got blown away when he saw the poster. Now he would have to work quickly to make sure Yancy got what he deserved before someone placed rope around his own neck.

He figured it would be a matter of hours at most before the Marshal recognized his description on the wanted poster so he only had a short while to leave Dodge and start back to Colorado. He knew he could make the trip in less than three days if he didn't sleep for more than a few hours each night and provided his horse remained sound. At first he thought only of his own escape, but then he knew he had to get Yancy. The law man from Dodge would soon be tracking him, but in a way that was good. Pete knew he would need help to get Yancy and who better to provide that help than Matt Dillon, United States Marshal.

He crossed a branch of the Arkansas river about nightfall and lit a small fire. He allowed his horse to drink, then hobbled him for the night so the animal could graze on the small brown patches of grass that had somehow managed to survive in spite of the cooling weather and shortening days. He arranged his saddle and bedroll and lay down beneath the clear sky of early winter. For one reason or another he had lived outside for much of his adult life and the sight of the myriad of stars stretching across the darkened heavens never ceased to bring him peace. He decided then and there that hanging would be preferable to life in prison. He could not live without this sense of vastness.

It was barely light by the time he was back in the saddle next morning. He had extinguished his small camp fire, but left enough of it showing so that the lawman following him could not fail to pick up his trail. He was trying to make good speed, knowing he would have to cross the Arkansas at least twice more before reaching Old Bent's Fort. If the snow started it would make the trip too hazardous.

He rode all that day and rested some at night. It was gone noon the following day before he passed the Old Fort and headed south till he reached Yancy's Ranch. The man owned an enormous spread, probably a thousand acres or more. He knew now that much of the money he used to purchase all that land came from robberies and other illegal activities. Certainly a legitimate freight business would not support that many acres.

From the distance he could see a rocky rise behind the ranch house. It was there that he was headed now. He would watch and wait and hope that Dillon joined him soon.

It was late afternoon by the time he had hidden his horse amongst a tangle of bushes trees and rocks. He climbed the hill to seek a vantage point from where he could watch the house. He figured that Dillon was a few hours behind him but with the encroaching darkness the Marshal would probably stop for the night.

He daren't light a fire, but brought his bedroll and saddle blanket to help keep out the cold. He started to spread them out on the only smooth piece of ground he could find when he heard something behind him. It sounded like two rocks falling against each other. Maybe the Marshal had made better time than he thought. He was about to take cover and look when a sharp blow landed on his skull and he fell limply to the ground.

ooo000ooo

Marshal Dillon had been at the livery long before most of the town was awake. Kitty of course had asked him to be careful, warning that all this could just be a trap. He knew she spoke the truth but tried to convince her, and maybe himself, that he knew that wasn't so, and yes he would be careful. That really meant very little. As a lawman he always needed to be careful, it became second nature. All the same there were dangers that could not be avoided.

He had packed some beans, beef jerky and coffee in his saddle bags and before he left the stable poured some grain for his horse into a small sac and added it to the collection of survival gear he already had. He checked again, not that he was likely to have forgotten anything. He had filled two canteens with water and carried plenty of ammunition for both his Henry rifle and his colt pistol.

Quietly he led the buckskin horse through the big double doors and closed them behind him before he swung up into the saddle and headed west out of town. Moss Grimmick had seen him leave and said a prayer to any god that might be listening, hoping that the US Marshal from Dodge City would return home safely.

Matt found it surprisingly easy to follow the young drifters trail. At first he was grateful for that. It meant he could ride without having to get down from his horse every few miles to make sure he was still on track. After a while he realized it was a little too easy. He came across the remains of a campfire that had been completely extinguished but left partly visible. To anyone with half a mind it was like a sign post. It was then he decided not to get too close to his quarry, he needed space to make sure this was not a trap. It would not be the first time someone had led him out of town and tried a surprise ambush.

He presumed they were going to Bent's Old Fort from what Hank Starr / Pete Turner had told him. That meant at least two nights on the trail with very little sleep and less food. The nights were getting cold now and as he neared the Colorado line, the air began to feel like snow was on the way.

ooo000ooo

Pete Turner awoke to a big headache, apart from that and the fact that he couldn't see or move, he did not feel too bad. He soon realized that his lack of vision was because it was dark and as his eyes adjusted to the low light he began to pick out vague details. The inability to move did not improve so easily and came from the fact that he was securely tied to an old bed. He closed his eyes then opened them again just to make sure he was not imagining things, but nothing changed. He heard voices from another room. The only one he had heard before was that of the tall skinny man with the hawk like face, the man known as Caney who he had seen in the bar in Liberal.

He tried to strain his ears to catch some of the conversation. From what he could make out Yancy was not there and Caney was pleased with himself for catching so called Hank Starr. He was sure Mr. Yancy would give him a bonus for that.

He must have fallen asleep or passed out again. When he woke this time he knew it was daylight outside because he could see fingers of sunlight coming in through gaps in the walls. It was much colder now and he shivered.

It wasn't long before new voices were coming from the other room. He could hear Yancy's voice and a higher pitched woman's voice - it had to be Nina. After a while he found he could smell coffee and realized how thirsty he was. He thought of calling out but decided against it.

It wasn't long before the door leading from the other room burst open. The big unmistakeable figure of Bart Yancy stood there, hands on hips and a twisted smile on his face.

"You are a fool Mr. Turner." The deep voice reverberated through the small room. "Why did you come back here? Of course it won't make much difference, I have made sure the law is after you so even if I don't kill you, your life is over."

He came over to the bed and released the ropes that prevented him for moving.

"Come and have breakfast, Turner, and tell me where you've been and who you've been talking to. Caney and his friends are just out at the barn so don't try anything."

Slowly Pete stood up. He was a little dizzy at first and his head throbbed but he was not about to show that. His only desire now was an opportunity to kill this man. A man who had used him to gain information he used to break the law. A man who caused him to give up the only job he ever worked that made him feel like a man. Yancy was evil, he used people and had no respect for life. The only thing that mattered to Bart Yancy was taking what he wanted and not caring who got hurt along the way.

Slowly he made his way to the other room. Nina was cooking breakfast at the stove. She barely looked at him.

Yancy sat down at the table and indicated for Pete to do the same. He took his gun from its holster and laid it on the table in easy reach of his hand. It was a little to far away for Pete to grab it. He knew it was meant to taunt him as it lay there. That is what Yancy intended. Freedom so close and yet so far away. The man had a mean streak in him a mile wide.

"Bring us some coffee, woman!" he called to Nina.

Looking at her, Pete could tell that her life with Yancy had not been a happy one. She had a few fading bruises on her face and even though she wore a long sleeved dress, he could see burn marks around her wrists. The beautiful long braid she used to wear was gone, her hair was tangled and dirty now. It made him feel even sicker than he had before. He had to kill Yancy and get her out of here.

Nina brought two coffee cups to the table, she poured one for Yancy and timidly eased it towards him. Carefully she avoided Pete's eyes as she poured the second cup. He reached to take it, but instead of placing it on the table he grasped the cup firmly and tossed the hot contents into Yancy's face. He reached across the table to snatch the gun and met Yancy's hand as he was doing the same thing. There was a short struggle, a loud thud and then suddenly Pete felt Yancy's arm go limp. He looked up to see that Nina had grabbed a hot pan from the stove and thrust it down on the man's head. Yancy was dazed but not unconscious and he reached up to grab Nina's arm but Pete had the gun in his control now.

"Let her go Yancy," he called. He knew that firing the gun would attract the attention of Caney and the men in the barn, but he could not let that man get a hold of Nina and use her as a shield. He hardly had time to act as the the girl screamed while she was being pulled down towards the big bear of a man on the floor. Pete had a clear shot for this one second of time. He might not get another opportunity. He decided. The crack of the pistol reverberated through the room and Yancy collapsed back to the floor with a hole in his chest outlined by a small ring of crimson blood on his shirt.

"Get out of here fast," he yelled to the girl. "My horse is back behind the hill, take it and go. There's a US Marshal on the way from Dodge, he'll help you if you can find him."

He opened the front door. The barn was to his left, he pushed her out and made her go to the right.

"Run now, I'll hold them back for a while."

She barely rounded the corner of the building before Caney and friends came running from the barn. He ducked back inside and tried to bar the door. There wasn't much available, but anything would do to delay them for just a few minutes. He drug the table over towards the door then checked the gun to see how many bullets he had left. Only 2. No time to reload.

The men were already banging on the door - he had seen four of them heading towards the house. There was no hope for him, but if he could give Nina time to escape he would feel it was worth it.

They were pushing on the door now. He fired twice using the two bullets. They pierced the door but didn't hit anyone, and it didn't slow the men down any. He heard Caney call out.

"Mr. Yancy, what's happening, are you all right?"

Pete smiled to himself, dead men don't reply, he thought.

Another half minute passed and the men were in the room with him. They saw the boss's body on the floor and Caney took it upon himself to fight Pete. The tall man was good with his fists and enjoyed using them. it wasn't long before Pete found himself completely overpowered and being pulled to his feet so someone could slam a fist into his stomach. They thought he was out cold and threw him to the ground, then turned their attention to Yancy. They were shocked to find him dead and then started looking for the girl. In the confusion they searched the other rooms of the house and for a few minutes forgot about Pete Turner. Carefully he hauled himself to his feet and staggered out the door. If he could get to the barn maybe he could grab a horse and get out of this place.

Somehow his legs managed to carry him to the barn. His belly hurt like crazy and he thought that any minute he would throw up, but there was no time. A fairly fresh looking mount was standing in the first stall. No time for a saddle, he grabbed the lead rope that was hitched to a ring in the wall. Using the stall wall for assistance he swung himself up on the animal's back and made for the exit. As soon as he was outside he urged the animal into a flat out gallop while bending low over its withers. He hardly got fifty feet from the barn when a volley of shots broke out. He thought he was going to get away, but then all of a sudden a fire started in his hip bone. He had to cling on to the horse, he knew that much, and managed to do so for a while, but he could feel himself getting weaker. Worse still the snow he had been feeling in the air had started to fall. He knew that was fatal, because now he was leaving a clear trail where ever he went. All Yancy's men had to do was follow the tracks in the fresh snow. Sadly it was not falling fast enough to hide them before dark. His clouded brain remembered a creek up ahead. Maybe he could use an old trick to confuse them. He was now hanging around the horses neck but desperation gave him the strength to stay there. He could see the creek just a little way ahead. Somehow he guided the horse into the water before his grip loosened and he fell. The horse sensing freedom took off across the creek and ran up the other bank. From there he disappeared up the trail leaving a nice set of prints for Yancy's men to follow.

Pete tried to stand but couldn't. His right leg would not cooperate. Somehow he crawled to the edge of the creek. There was a low hanging tree limb and using his last ounce of energy he pulled himself up and out of the water. He was cold now, but somehow that dulled the pain. He didn't want to leave tracks in the snow and that drove him forward along the branch till he got back to the main trunk. He could see now that the tree was lying on its side. He worked his way along till he reached an area where the ground below was sheltered and the snow had not settled. Carefully he allowed himself to slide to the ground where he laid, totally exhausted.

TBC