Dakota Trail Page 3

  As you most likely know, I had rid in boxcars a time or two afore, an’ I enjoyed myself watchin’ out that big door an’ seein’ the country kindly whiz by like it done. In just four or five hours, we’d cover as much ground as we woulda in a two or three days a hard ridin’, an’ we’d git where we was goin’ well rested an’ with fresh horses. I eased myself down on the tarp, leaned back agin’ my ol’ saddle, an’ took it easy. The next thing I knowed, Marion was shakin’ my shoulder.

  “Time to wake up, Honey,” he said. “I hate to disturb yer nap an’ all, but we’re durn near in St. Joe.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You have dozed the day away, boy. Judgin’ by what I seen passin’ by, we’ll be in St. Joe in about half a hour or so.”

  I was some foggy like, an’, to tell the truth, I had to pee somethin’ fierce. I got up, went to that big open door, hung on to the edge, an’ tried for it. That wind blowin’ by the car throwed most a what I was tryin’ to git rid of kindly back in my direction. I went over to finish up by the horses while Marion set there an’ chuckled quite a bit.

  Ol’ plank.

  We saddled the horses, got the panniers back on the bay, an’ waited a spell for the train to finally stop by one a them ramps so we could git down outa the car. The yardmaster, a fella by the name a Garrett, come by, innerduced hisself, an’ took us an’ the horses on a fair walk over to where we would connect with the Black Hills an’ Fort Pierre line. Willie warn’t over happy about walkin’ through another mess a them rail yards, but he listened to me an’ never got rank.

  A ol’ fella named Burtrum met us there an’ showed us a little corral back from the tracks a ways where we could put the horses overnight that was near the boxcar we would have to git to in the mornin’. He looked to see they was water in the tank an’ some hay on the ground, tolt us he’d make sure we was loaded up in plenty a time for the trip to Sioux Falls, shook hands with both of us, an’ went on his way. Me an’ Marion took about a ten minute walk into the bidness district a St. Joe, run across a little place to git a bite to eat, an’ had a good supper a roasted beef. It was total dark when we finished, with over half a full moon that made it some easier walkin’ back through them yards. We was most a the way to where our stock was penned up when we heard a horse kindly scream.

  “That was Willie!” I whispered real big, an’ broke into a run. To this day, I thank the Lord for the bright moonshine that night.

  They was three of ‘em. One of ‘em was outside the corral, holdin’ the packhorse an’ the Appaloosa. The other two was in the pen, hangin’ onto a rope around Willie’s neck. That little buckskin was on the fight. Just as I sailed over the fence around that pen, I seen Willie charge them boys an’ knock one of ‘em down. The other one come backin’ away some smart, right toward where I landed. I drawed my right hand Remington an’ smacked him on the back a the head about as hard as I could. Then I heer’d a gunshot, an’ seen Willie goin’ after that ol’ boy he’d put in the dirt, strikin’ at that feller with his front feet. I started toward Willie to git him under control afore he kilt somebody, an’ that’s when Marion hollerd.

  “Shot the feller outside the corral,” he yelled, “he had a gun to hand.”

  I got to Willie an’ throwed my arms aound his neck while shoutin’ his name. That stopped him from stompin’ a man to death, but he still did manage to git in a lick or two an’ bit that fella on the arm bad enough to draw blood.

  We never got any sleep that night. By the time Marion an’ me got things squared away with that Burtrum fella an’ the town law, a young man named Parsons, it was durn near daybreak. The ol’ boy that Marion shot was prob’ly dead afore he hit the ground. The fella I smacked, who never did wake up while he was still in the pen, was took to a doctor’s office along with the shithead Willie got after. He had a broke right arm an’ his shoulder was outa place. Burtrum an’ Parsons both was some tickled that Willie had knocked the hell outa that fella.

  After things got settled down, I give Willie two a them maple candies an’ loved on him some. I was right proud a that little buckskin. I truly was.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A little after dawn, me an’ Marion walked back to the place where we got supper for a bite a breakfast. He had hisself ham an’ eggs while I et some flapjacks an’ sugar cured bacon. I could see from the way he helt hisself that Marion was some tired. I was about halfway through them pancakes when that sleepless night hit me. I reckon all the excitement an’ such had kept me goin’ on false energy or somthin’. When it left me, I was purty much wore plumb out. Marion noticed.

  “Finally ketch up with ya, did it Ruben?” Marion asked me.

  “Little bit,” I tolt him.

  “You had a nice nap just yesterday afternoon. That wear off, did it?”

  “Wore off, left off, an’ run off,” I said, fightin’ with a yawn.

  “Let’s git back over to the yards, boy,” he went on. “The quicker we can git our box car loaded up and took care of, the sooner you can git some rest.”

  “How ‘bout you?” I asked him.

  Marion smiled an’ rubbed his face.

  “Hell Ruben,” he said, “I’m talkin’ in my sleep right now.”

  When we got back to the boxcar, Mister Burtrum was already there, had the ramp in place, an’ was throwin’ a mess a straw inside.

  “Gotcha all ready to go, Marshals,” he tolt us. “Couple feet a straw at the stock end of the car, an’ about a foot in the middle by the door so you boys got yerselves a good place to nap. They’s two full five gallon water bags hangin’ in there, an’ a bucket for yer horses to drink from. Yer tack, panniers, saddles an’ such are all in the non-horse end. Yardmaster said they’d move ya an’ hook ya up to the train in about a half hour. Been nice doin’ bidness with you fellers. Have a good trip.”

  Me an’ Marion shook hands with him an’ he started off, then stopped and turned around.

  “By the way,” Mister Burtrum said, lookin’ at me, “that feller you smacked out last night still ain’t come to wake up, yet. The doc says that fool has got hisself a broke skull an’ might never come back from it.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, an’ headed over to the corral to fetch Willie.

  Marion an’ me was about fifty yards from the horses afore Willie spotted me. He hustled over to the board fence an’ neighed at me about as loud as he could. It tickled me, is what it done. When we got to the pen, he was reachin’ out over the top rail an’ givin’ me snorts an’ nickerin’ quite a bit. I give him a candy an’ he munched it right up an’ swallerd it in just a second or two. I give him another one, an’ he went at that one some thoughtful an’ takin’ his time. I give a treat to the warhorse an’ the packhorse, then me an Marion led all of ‘em to the car, loaded ‘em up, an’ spread the tarp out over that straw in front of the door. I brung my ol’ saddle over an’ stretched out, usin’ it for a headrest.

  I remember the car bein’ moved to hook up to the train we wanted, an’ I remember that train connectin’ to us an’ rollin’ through the yards. That there is all I recall ‘til Marion shook me awake with a biscuit an’ some jerky.

  “Only about two hours left to the trip,” he said. “Wake up and eat somethin’.”

  It took me a minute to git outa that black hole an’ climb back into myself. I took that biscuit from him an’ set there kindly starin’ at it. Marion was grinnin’ at me.

  “Whatcha do now, young Ruben,” he said, “is put a chunk a what you got there in your hand into your mouth. Then ya chaw on it for a spell and swaller it. It’s called food, and it’ll make ya big and strong.”

  I looked at Marion then, an’ he laughed.

  “Where are ya, boy?” he asked me.

  “I ain’t sure,” I tolt him. “I was some asleep, I reckon.”

  Marion took that biscuit away from me an’ handed me a canteen.

  “Worsh yer face, Ruben,” he tolt me, “and git all the way back. You try to eat anythin’ in the c
ondition yer in, and you might choke on it. I’d hate to report that the legendary Marshal Ruben Beeler strangled to death on a biscuit in a boxcar.”

  I dripped some a that water into my hand and rubbed it on my face. Marion was still grinnin’ at me.

  I looked at him.

  “You havin’ a good time are ya, Marshal Daniels?”

  “Better’n you are, I betcha,” he said, an’ handed me back that biscuit. “I had ta shake ya quite a bit to bring you back. You alright, boy?”

  “I guess I am,” I said, an’ took a bite of that jerky an’ biscuit. I couldn’t hardly taste much, but I et it. By the time it was gone, an’ I had walked over by the horses to take a leak, I was mostly back to myself. I set down by my saddle an’ spoke up to Marion.

  “I doan know what was the matter with me,” I said.

  “Sometimes a feller can git so tired most a what he is just shuts off for a spell to kindly let him ketch up with hisself. You was plumb wore down, boy. Just be glad you ain’t got the type a situation where goin’ to sleep is some kinda sickness.”

  “A sickness?”

  Marion nodded.

  “Some years ago, when I was over in Westport, I knowed a man by the name a Albert Poston. Fine feller with a good tenor singin’ voice. Now and then, ol’ Albert would just go to sleep. Didn’t matter where he was or what he was doin’. Settin’ in a chair, walkin’ on the boardwalk, eatin’ a meal or whatever, Albert would just drift away, right sudden like, and ya couldn’t wake him up. He might be just walkin’ through a room or somethin’, and down he’d go, right to the floor. You could holler at him, grab him an’ shake him, throw water on him, or whatever, but he wodden wake up ‘til he was ready.”

  “I never heard the like,” I said.

  “Damn near kilt him,” Marion said. “Albert was crossin’ the street one time, went to sleep, and fell over in front of a buckboard wagon comin’ down the way on a trot bein’ pulled by a team a mules. Ran right over him. Broke a leg and stomped on him right smart.”

  “Well damn, Marion. How would a fella ever git along with somethin’ like that? I’d be scairt to leave the house, not knowin’ when or where I might just keel over.”

  “Albert’s daddy had made hisself a bunch a money sellin’ off a mess a land over in Kansas that his family had owned since afore the war. A year or so after Albert come to have his sleepin’ sickness, his daddy died an’ left him all that money. They was a saloon near Westport called the Prairie Palace. In the place was a pair a heavy-set twin sisters by the names a Eileen and Verleen, or Nadine and Arleen, or somethin’ like that, workin’ the upstairs rooms. Albert got friendly with them women and hired ‘em to come live in his house and go with him wherever he went to save him from injury when he keeled over. Paid ‘em good money. Somethin’ like a fifty dollars a month each, plus food, clothes, possibles, a place to live and all like that. Worked out purty good for everbody, I guess. Them sisters give up whorin’ at the saloon, and the last I seen a Albert, they was always at least one a them gals on his arm, an’ everbody was doin’ fine.”

  “Well ain’t that somethin’,” I said.

  Marion nodded an’ smiled at me.

  “I’m terrible glad you was just tired an’ ain’t got none a Albert’s problem,” he said. “If I was to have to take you back home in the company a two whores that was with you all the time, it might vex Harmony a little bit.”

  “You ain’t near as glad as I am,” I said. “Situation like that could come ta git plumb tedious.”

  We set there grinnin’ at each other. Even ridin’ in a boxcar, it was good to be back on the trail.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was gittin’ near dusk when we come into Sioux Falls. A fella from the railroad come by after our boxcar had been disconnected an’ helped us with the horses as we brung ‘em down the ramp. He was a ol’ boy name a Brant an’ a purty good fella. He showed us where a livery was that would take good care of the stock an’ tolt us how to git to a reasonable roomin’ house. We thanked him some an’ went on our way, leadin’ the horses to that livery in less than a five minute walk. The old fella workin’ there went by the name a Milner. He had hisself a fair limp an’ was some interested about why U.S. Marshals had come to town. We jawed with him while he forked out some clean straw, set the stalls up for the night, an’ give us a place to stash our possibles an’ such.

  “I was a lawman in my long lost youth,” he said. “Texas Ranger from ’58 to ‘70. Rode with Bill Bigfoot Wallace quite a bit a the time over them several years. It was in ‘70 when a dammed renergade Redskin shot me in the right leg an’ run off. After I got over that some, I headed north. I’d had myself about all the Texas trouble I wanted. I was fixin’ to go to Canada, but I run across this here town when it warn’t hardly nothin’ but a settlement for the falls an’ such, an’ I took a job workin’ for a feller name a Schweighbeck who had started a little livery bidness. Schweighbeck passed in ’79 an’ left the place to me. Then the boom hit. Godamighty! We got ten times the people here we did back then. I got four men that work here part an’ full time just to keep up. Now they is puttin’ in that there electricity that they is makin’ over at the falls an’ got a mess a them telephones goin’ in an’ such. Folks talkin’ to one another through a durn wire! An’ now it looks like we’re gonna be a state afore terrible long. Everthang is gittin’ too dammed civilized for me. Canada is startin’ to look good agin, boys, an’ that there is the clear spoke truth.”

  “Rode with Bigfoot Wallace, did ya?” Marion said.

  “Yessir.”

  “I have heard some stories about that ol’ boy.”

  Milner smiled. “I reckon about one outa five is true. I never did see Bill Wallace ever git hisself terrible overcome by modesty. Give him his due, though. He was always fair with me, an’ he was one tough sonofabitch.”

  He locked our trail truck in a side shed connected to the main stable an’ him, an’ Marion swapped a couple a stories afore we collected a few of our possibles an’ went on down the way to find the place Mister Milner recommended for us to git a room.

  The roomin’ house, called Rafferty’s, was two stories tall an’ near filled a fair sized corner lot just off one of the main streets. Them main streets was surfaced with stone or brick, an’ they was gas lights on poles about ever hunnerd feet or so in durn near any direction a fella could take a peek. I had never seen no place lit up like that afore. Even Marion was some startled.

  “My God, Ruben,” he said. “Milner warn’t kiddin’. This town is on the boom. I come through thisaway back in eighty or eighty-one. They was buildin’ a penitentiary back then, most a the streets was dirt or mud, they warn’t no streetlights, and the first bridge across the Big Sioux River had just got worshed away in a flood. Hell, Boy, this place warn’t no bigger than a thousand or fifteen hunnerd souls back then. God knows how big it is now. Ten thousand, I reckon. I wodden be surprised if it was more than that.”

  We clum the steps up to the front porch, an’ Marion turned the doorbell. In less than five seconds, the door opened an’ a little fella about sixty-years-old was lookin’ up at us. He was wearin’ a smile, a linsey-woolsey shirt, an’ a derby hat that was so beat up I doan think even Homer Poteet coulda saved it.

  “Since yer knockin’ at me door,” he said, “I reckon you two lads is lookin’ for someplace to rest yer weary heads this fine evenin’. Michael J. Rafferty at yer service.”

  Marion smiled at him.

  “I am U.S. Marshal Marion Daniels, sir, and this is my partner, U.S. Marshal Ruben Beeler. We are here to look into the recent disappearance a Marshal James Jacklin.”

  “He’d stayed here a time or two, ye know,” Mister Rafferty said. “Jimmy Jack is a fine lad. Good to see you men here to investigate into his situation. Two cots an’ a room won’t cost you darlin’ wanderers one red cent. Least I can do for Jimmy.”

  “That’s right kind of ya, sir,” Marion said.

  “Ah, sure. Just one step
down from an angel, that’s me.”

  “You and Ruben, here, oughta be careful around each other,” Marion grinned. “He’s just about one step up from ol’ Scratch.”

  “Then me an’ him got us a helluva advantage,” Mister Rafferty went on, matchin’ Marion’s smile. “We both know where we stand. A lotta folks doan figger that out until it’s too late. You lads c’mon in. I got a nice corner room on the second floor with big windas on the north an’ west sides for ya. The Sunrise Café is only a block away, yer in easy distance of a barbershop with bathtubs in the back, an’ about two blocks west is the Nightrider Saloon. Behind it sets a house with other benefits if yer of a mind for some additional entertainment.”

  We toted our possibles an’ such up to the room, which was of a nice size with two good cots an’ them big windas for lettin’ in a breeze, an’ kindly got settled some. It was comin’ full dark an’ such, but neither one a us was terrible tired after sleepin’ the trip away, so we went for a walk to that Sunrise Café.

  It was a nice little place an’ well took care of. They was still some a the day’s special, a ham with potaters an’ hominy left. It was some tasty. Our waitress was a little curious about two marshals settin’ in the dinin’ room an’ made some conversation with us. She’d knowed Marshal Jacklin an’ tolt us she’d thought some of him an’ was glad we was up that way to find out if somethin’ had happened to him. She seemed like a nice lady an’, even though she warn’t gonna be there, tolt us we should come back in the early mornin’ if we wanted the best biscuits an’ gravy in town. After we et supper, Marion mentioned he might enjoy a shot or two, so we asked directions from our waitress an’ headed out in search of the Nightrider Saloon.