A bit of a story, if you please

[Cherokee Charlie Regulator #4967]

"No need to yell, I'm right here." I said softly as I passed the man the water. If he was startled at my nearness he didn't show it. "Put it down and get me some clean cloth." Again I passed a waxed packet of clean bleached cloth already retrieved from my saddlebag. This time the stranger gave a half shrug in acknowledgement. "You're prepared. Might be my doctorin' wasn't quite as critical as I thought."

 

I would have chuckled, hell I'd done enough doctoring in the war to know a vein from an artery and how to stitch up either one, but Charlie didn't need us fighting over his care.

 

"Let it bleed a bit, then leave it open. See that cluster there? That's the Brachial plexus. Close him up and the leaking blood will clot and put pressure on the nerve and he'll never use the arm right again." I handed him a bit of horsehair soaked in alcohol and fashioned into a tube of sorts. "Lay that in the wound and bind it up loosely, then we need to prop him up a bit. so it will drain."

 

The stranger did so skillfully and with little wasted motion. Charlie seemed to be breathing easier and I stepped back. "Thanks stranger."

 

With barely disguised curiosity I watched and wondered just who it was who had walked into our group. Five years ago I'd of bet my speed against anyone's in a fight, I now had to depend on instinct for a little advance notice. A voice in my head was telling me to ride out, pull my Sharps and put this man down before he did the same for me. I walked to my horse and opened my saddlebag and retrieved a couple of bottles of whisky tossing one to Blackwater and the other I opend and took a long pull off of before handing it to the stranger.

 

Charlie opened one eye and the pain was so severe he wished he had never come back from the dead. He couldn't quite get the other eye open because it had been closed so long the muckouse had dried and was keeping it closed. The first person he saw with his only eye was Flint McCloud, "What in the hell hit me, Flint?"

 

"Charlie you took a slug in the back-------

 

"I don't think he heard you," said the old Marshall, "the pain was just too much for him to bear, he passed out. We need to get him to a bed somewhere,somehow."

 

J. Mark Flint spoke up and said, "anybody got any ideas, I'm about out of them. I need time to think about all that's happened and what's going on here. I need to sort all of this out. I need a plan."

[Help]

(Author's note: Sorry about the delay folks. Been rode hard and put away wet all week. Overworked and under paid. LOL)

 

Ramsome and Flint kicked their mounts into a run. The wagons trail was easy to follow. Flint,

having been an old calvery man, let the horses run for an hour, then had Ransome dismount and

lead his mount for twenty minutes, giving the horses time to rest. The two men kept this pace

for 6 hours. On the seventh hour they caught up with the wagon.

 

The Marshall and McCloud saw them as they rode over the ridge. Both men recognized J. Mark Flint

instantly by the way the man sat his saddle. They pulled up and waited for the two riders to

catch up. As soon as they reached the wagon, Flint swung out of the saddle. He gave a quick nood

to his two pards and quickly climbed on board to check on Charlie. Charlie was running a fevor.

He was asleep, but still alive.

 

"How much further to the ranch." Asked Flint as he felt Charlie's forhead.

 

"At this pace," Returned Flint McCloud with concern in his voice. "We should be there by dusk."

 

J. Mark flint was silent for a moment, weighing options.

 

"Good." He finally said. "But we need more. Colorado, you stay with the wagon,

Just in case more trouble shows up. We can trust Colorado gents, at least for nowe.

I'm goint to ride ahead. I'll let them know your coming. If possible

I'll ride on and fetch the nearest doctor."

 

Flint jumped down and mounted his horse.

 

"Don't spare the leather." Flint McCloud shouted as J. Mark Flint speed off.

"Charlie needs speed."

 

The three men watched him disapear over the next ridge. Then the two men in the wagon turned thier

heads toward Ransome. The did not have to speak for Ransome to figure out thier thoughts.

They had unending faith in J. Mark, but none in him. Understandable.

Trust would come hard for both of them. Ransome took in their surroundings befor he spoke.

 

"You gents stay to the road." He began. "I'll cover you from that ridge

off to your left. No one is going to get anywhere close to you."

To make his point plain, Ransome slide his sharps from the saddle scabbard.

 

After a moment the marshall asked. "You know how to use that?"

 

Ransome gave the marshall a smile, then moved the roan off to their left.

Man and mount charged up the ridge in front of them. Once on top, where he could be seen

not only by the men in the wagon, but by anyone trying to move up on the wagon, Ransome signeled

them to move on. The wagon moved forward

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

(I could share in the complaint, but it is good to be back.)

 

"Don't spare the leather" I heard as I dug in my heels. I was an admirer of fine horseflesh, but I knew what a horse was and that simply was a tool, to be respected and cared for as long as their utility outweighed the cost of their care. Tonight this horse would not be pampered.

 

I rode a harder pace, but still the last 15 minutes of each hour I managed to jog along leading my mount as he cooled down enough to keep going. I loved the gait of a big horse, but the heat was murder on them. Right now I was washing for a little grulla I'd left behind that could run for hours on end. I didn't need to ask for directions as I spied the doctor's office right off. I headed to the livery stable and arranged for the care of my horse and bought another two mounts for the ride back, along with a spare saddle. "Have them ready, I'll be back directly" i said as I overpaid the hostler.

 

With that I headed to the doctor's office, hoping that he was a good one. As I walked through the door the good doctor leveled a colt at me and pulled the trigger. As the roar of the shot echoed in our ears and the smoke filled the room I marveled that a man could miss a target of my size at the range of no more than 2 feet. I firmly grasped the revolver pulling it from the Doctor's hands.

 

I pushed him backwards to the wall and struck a match. "Doctor Charbeneau, you french son of a bitch, I can't believe you managed to point a gun at me, much less pull a trigger."

 

His eyes widened "Oh shit! J. Mark, I swear I thought it was someone else."

 

I looked around and found a lantern and lit it. "Charb get a bag and tools to treat a gunshot wound and an infection, a pretty bad one I'm afraid. You tell me why I have powder burns on my new vest along the way."

[Help]

The pace of the wagon was slow, Charlie could not have survived a faster one. This gave Ransome plenty of time to search the distance for anyone following, or approaching in a hurry. As of yet there was no sign

of another living person. Normally, Ransomme would have rode just below the ridgetop, but now he wanted to be seen. He was doing two things by this, first he was letting anyone who saw him know that the wagon below was being covered,second he was letting the two men in the wagon know where he was at all times.

The marshall and the gunfighter would trust him better if they could see him, not that they trusted him

all that much to begin with.

 

The ride wore on with no more excitment. Around two hours befor the sun would set, Ransome spied the ranch

house in the distance. They would reach it before sunset, and that was good. Folks generally did not like

suprises in the night. They were more likely to recieve a more friendly welcome if the rancher and hands could see them coming.

 

Ransome took a last look round, he saw nothing. Next he turned the roan down off the ridge and headed for the wagon. He kept the pace slow so as not to alarm his new companions. As he moved toward them he replaced the sharps rifle into it's saddle scabard. Both the men in the wagon watched him ride in. When he reached the wagon

he swung his mount around and trotted up beside the seat where the men sat.

 

"Ranch is just up ahead." Ransome anounced. "We should be there in about twenty minutes or so."

 

"Good," Returned the Marshall. "Pull up McCloud, I'm going to ride in first and let them know what's coming.

 

Flint McCloud pulled in on the reins and brought the wagon to a stop. The marshall hopped down and went to the rear of the wagon where his horse was tied. As the Marshall untied the horse, McCloud moved into the wagon bed to check on Charlie. Charlie was still hot with fevor, but hanging on to life. Once mounted the marshall

handed out orders as lawmen often do.

 

"Flint, you hold the same pace but get that man to the ranch quickly as possible. Colorado, you get back on that hill and keep them covered all the way in." With that the marshall kicked his mount into a run and was gone.

 

As Flint McCloud climbed back to the wagon seat, Ransome asked. "How is he?"

 

"Bout the same." Returned the gunfighter as he picked up the riens. "J. Mark had better hurry with that doctor."

 

Ransome turned the roan back toward the hill and rode off. McCloud let out a "Hep, ha there" and the wagon began to roll again. From his pearch Ransome returned to his vidual. It had the same results as before.

If anyone was following them, they were doing so from a large distance. From where he rode, Ransome could see the marshall as he rode hell bent for leather toward the ranch. The twenty minute trip for the wagon only took the lawman about five minutes to make. Ransome watched as he thundered into the ranch complex.

He must have been shouting, cause men came running from many directions.

 

By the time the wagon followed the Marshall into the ranch, preperations had been made. Four of the ranch

hands had whipped together a litter for carrying Charlie inside the house. The Ranchers wife oversaw

the transfer. They carefull carried the wounded man inside to a bed that had been prepaired for him.

As soon as Charlie had been placed in the bed, the ranchers wife shooed everyone from the room.

As she did the marshall came from the kitchen carring a pot of hot water. The ranchers wife told him to place it on the table next to the bed and then go heat some more water. She them began to carefully remove Charlies shirt.

Next she began to clean the wound.

 

As the Marshall and McCloud where in the house, Ransome took it upon himself to tend to the horses.

He saw to his roan first, as any man would. Then he unsadled McClouds horse and rubbed it down. Lastly he unhitched the team from the wagon and saw to thier needs. Once all the horses were in the coral, Ransome forked in some hay for them to feed on. By the time all this was done it was dark. Still no sign of J. Mark Flint and the doc. Ransome knew that for Charlie, time was running out. Flint had better hurry.

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

Dr John Charbeneau was great grandson of the famous Sacajawea. What little indian blood he had only showed through when he was drinking. Nearly as wide as he was tall, his skills as a doctor were, thankfully, much better than as a horseman.

 

"Charb, I know you don't like being on a horse, but if you don't pick up your pace, I'll tie you across the saddle. I ain't forgetting you took a shot at me."

 

He kicked his heels back and brought the horse to a trot that had him bouncing in the saddle and hanging onto the pommel for dear life.

 

I would have laughed if it hadn't been for the fact that I knew time was of the essence. I rode up beside him and quirted his horse hard, keeping alongside and swatting it twice more for good measure.

 

"Get some weight on your feet before you fall and break your neck." I shouted as I rode as close as possible, occasionally pushing or pulling him back into the saddle. Finally we saw our destination and I slowed the horses down to a fast walk and the Doctor massaged his back side as he cursed me with about every third breath. "Should have used a shotgun on you." was the last thing I heard before I pulled him free of the saddle and dropped him on his tail.

 

"Get in there and see to the injured man. If he lives, I'll get you a buckboard home. If he doesn't . . . well you won't rightly care."

[Help]

It was three hours after dark when J.Mark Flint and the Doctor rode in. Ransome was leaning against the

barn smoking a cigar that the rancher had given him when they rode up. He fought back a laugh

when the Fat Doc fell off the horse he was riding. He heard Flint bark at the man and then watched as both men

headed inside. The horses they had been on, now quite tired, just stood where they had been leftr.

After another couple pulls off his cigar, Ransome walked over to them. Taking both sets of reins in hand,

he began to walk them around so the horses could cool off. They walked till he had finished his cigar.

Ransome them took the two horses into the barn and removed their saddles. Next he brushed each animal down befor

trurning them loose in the coral.

 

Ransome decided to stay outside the ranch house. He knew it would be a long night, and that the three men

inside would be on edge till whatever was going to happen played itself out. Ransome hoped it would play out well for Charlie, but it was no sure thing. It was a bad wound, one that could go either way.

 

After three more hours had gone by with no word, Ransome decided to take a walk around, just to be sure that

no one was lurking in the shadows. Life on the edge of society had hieghtened Ransome's sence of danger,

he senced no danger now but had learned he could never be to careful. He walked out about 1000 yards

and then circled the ranch complex. He found nothing, and felt nothing. Finally he found a stump to sit down on.

 

Ransome looked up at the stars. They filled the sky above. He gazed at them as he had many nights before.

So bright and so peaceful. He began picking out his old friends. There shown mighty Hercules,in eternal battle with his lion. There was Aries, god of war. Orion the hunter and his faithful hounds. Cassieopie, the vain queen.

He watched as a shooting star streaked across the sky, he even thought he heard it hiss as it passed overhead.

The Milky Way made it brightr belt as it flowed from horizion to horizon. Draco, the Dragon, there in imortal flight. Ransome wondered, as he always had, if somewhere up there some far flung cowboy was gazing right back at him.

 

After a few hours away from the ranch, Ransome made another circle to check out the landscape,

Again he found nothing unusaul. Finnaly, getting tired, he headed back to the barn. As he passed the coral

he noticed that the horses were calm and sleeping. Horses where the best way to read the night,

the slightest sound or smell made them totally uncomfortable. Satisfied that no danger was out there, Ransome went into the barn and found some hay to lay down in. almost instantly he was asleep.

 

It was the crowing of the cock that woke him. Rising, he went to the barn door. The first faint

light of the new day was in the east. In the sky the last few stars of the night were fading fast.

All the light of the ranch house still flowed through the windows. It was still, and quite.

 

 

Ransome walked to the horse troth and splashed some water over his head. It was cold, and took all

sleep from his head. He used his neckerchief to wipe down his face, then he headed for the ranch house

WEalking up the three steps and crossing the wood porch, he moved to the door. Ransome knocked lightly, half afraid he might be intruding. It was the ranchers wife who opened the door. She was dressed in the same clothes she had had on the night befor. She gave him a smile an told him to come in. She lead him through the front room, down a hall, and into the kitchen. The Rancher, McCloud, the marshall, J. Mark Flint and the fat doctor sat at the table.

 

 

"Your friend is going to live." Said the doc as he entered the room. Then the Doc took another sip of the coffie sitting in front of him

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

I nodded as he approached and took a seat, finally accepting a cup of coffee. The farmer was busy hitching up his buckboard and their oldest boy would take the Doctor back to town. Dr. Charbeneau was not one of the people I preferred to associate with. I stepped outside and peeled off enough bills to pay him for his service.

 

As I placed the money in his hand I stared into his eyes. "You took a shot at me and survived. That puts you in a rare group. Just so you know, there is no group for folks that take a second shot at me."

 

Once the doctor was on his way I walked back in and checked on Charlie. The fever was broken and his color was improved. He opened his eyes and looked straight at me. I leaned forward and Charlie whispered hoarsely and so only I could hear "What's Ransome doing here?"

 

I looked across the room and pointed, That's Colorado, he helped patch you up, I imagine he's okay." Charlie nodded and went back to sleep for all anyone else noticed, but he managed to lift my Bowie right out of my belt before I walked away.

 

 

We all stepped out for some fresh air and to let Charlie get his rest. After a smoke, I went and saddled my horse. "Colorado, grab your horse and your Sharps, these folks deserve some meat for their hospitality and I don't feel like hunting alone."

[Help]

Ransome went out to the barn and saddled his roan. Then he retrieved the sharps from where he had laid it against the barn wall. Once it was secure in the saddle scabbard, he lead the horse out of the barn. Flint was waiting for him when he emerged. J. Mark was giving his saddle a final chinching as he waited. Both men swung up into thier saddles and headed out of the ranch compound at a walk.

 

They road out side by side, in no perticular hurry. They passed the first mile in silence, neither man wanting

to break the other's thoughts. It was J. Mark Flint that decided to speak first.

 

 

"Colorado, you ever hear tell of a fella cald....Ransome? Seems Charlie thinks you favor the man."

 

After a moment Ransome spoke. "Seems I do recall some tales about that name. He was some kind of outlaw as I recall

Road the boarder some 15 or 20 years ago. Think I heard something bout him getting shot down Sanora way.

Even if that's just a tale, I'm sure he ain't the man he once was."

 

"True enough." Returned Flint. "Who is? I'm sure not the man I was. Like ta think found some wisdome

along the trail. Man sometimes gets a chance ta show he's learned, and grown. Guess that's about the best any of us can do."

 

With that the talk ended as J. Mark Flint kicked his mount into a trot toward a tree covered ridge.

Ransome followed. Once they had reached the trees, Flint pulled up his horse and returned it to a walk.

He kept his attention on the ground in front of him. If he was thinking of Ransome, he showed no sign of it.

They had gone 300 yards when Flint pulled up. There on the ground just in front of him where deer tracks.

The tracks lead off away from the trees. Flint pointed them out to Ransome, who nooded back.

The tracks were fairly fresh.

 

Flint swung down from his saddle, Ransome followed suit. Once on the ground both men lead their horses into the trees, careful not to make much noise. They tied their mounts to a tree back about ten yards in and then both men slide thier rifles out of their scabbards. Returning to the tree line, Flint pointed a large outcropping

of rocks about 100 yards west of where they stood, then he pointed at Ransome. Ransome shook his head and moved off toward the rocks. Flint swung out down the hill and moved toward some brush. Once there he waited

for Ransome to get in possision. As soon as Ransome reached the rocks he climbed to the top and then layed down. From there he gave Flint a wave of his hand.

 

J. Mark Flint then moved off to his left. Going slow and stopping from time to time. He soon came back

Accross the deers trail. The hoof prints were fresher here. Now each time he stopped, he spent more time gazing at the landscape ahead. On his third halt, he found what he was looking for. 300 yards out he could just make out the hind quarters of what must be a mountain buck. Flint moved back to some near by cover and waved to Ransome. Once he had the mans attention, Flint pointed to the brush where the buck stood. Ransome gave Flint a nood and then

lifted the sharps to his cheek.

 

Ransome judged the distance to be about 700 yards from where he lay. He adjusted the tange site.

The day was calm, Ransome tested for a breeze but found none. He then put the rifle butt against his cheek and waited. It was not a long wait. After only a couple minutes a four point Muley stepped out of the cover at a slow walk. It took about 7 steps and then stopped. Ransome let half a breath out, stopped, and squezed the set trigger,

Moving his finger forward he lightly laid it on the front trigger. An instant latter the big sharps boomed.

 

Flint watched as the Muley shot up a few inches and then bolted. Hurring over to where the beast had stood, Flint found lots of blood. He trailed after the dirrection the Deer had gone, but did not have to go far. The Muley laid piled up on the ground only 25 yards futher down hill. There would be meat for the table tonight.

[Blackwater 53393]

"RANSOME!"

 

The name screamed in Blackwater's head! Though Cherokee Charlie had tried to keep it low, his voice had carried enough for the marshal to hear. The name Ransome was not unfamiliar to him. There had been stories about an hombre who used that moniker for years and many of them weren't good. Some old wive's tales made him out to be the "Boogie Man".

 

Blackwater was skeptical of those old tales, but there's a little truth in every lie. He sat by Charlie and studied the seemingly sleeping man. "What does he know about Ransome? Is this hombre, Colorado, actually Ransome?" he wondered. He resisted the urge to wake the wounded Charlie and question him, but the old man opened one eye and groaned.

 

"Damn! What an ugly thing to see when I'm just comin' too!" Charlie grunted as he stirred to find some comfort.

 

"You mentioned Ransome to Col. Flint while ago! Is this Colorado hombre him?" the marshal asked quietly.

 

"I ain't quite sure. He for sure looks like him from what I recall. I'm thirsty! Get me some water and I'll think about it."

 

"Do we need to be watchin' him?" blackwater asked as he rose to fetch a glass.

 

"With what we're dealin' with, you need to be watchin' everybody!" Charlie groaned as he seemed to slip back into unconciousness.

 

Blackwater fetched the water and set the glass on the chair he'd sat in. There was a lot to be considering while they waited for J. Mark and this Colorado hombre to return. "Ransome, huh?"

[Cherokee Charlie Regulator #4967]

Cherokee Charlie remembered back when he was with White Fawn and her people and they spoke of "the evil one" and one night he rode swiftly into our camp and killed at least 6 at random. Some were women, some were children and some were warriors. It didn't make much difference to "the evil one" for he killed at random.

 

In the white settlements they called him the "boogie man" because he would sneak into their homes at night and steal little girls, molest them and bash their heads in and leave them for the vultures. Now this was a bad, bad man. One that needed killing.

 

"I had a chance to kill him once but he got away. I wonder how many people died because of my mistake?" said Charlie.

 

"You can't blame yourself, Old Man," said Blackwater Desperado.

 

Before the old Marshall could say another word he looked around and CC had drifted off into another world of fitful sleep.