They could see him coming hell bent for breakfast, something was wrong, bad wrong and Case knew it. The only thing that Case could rationalize was a posse. Otherwise Toole would have kept going, turned off, done something to avoid whatever he had run onto.
Toole skidded the horse to a halt, and sprang from the saddle, "A posse's comin', they was movin' this way at a good clip!" He said between breaths. "Maybe a dozen men from the dust. Only saw the front riders. But their comin', gotta be from Big Flat!"
"Christ! Just what the hell we need." Case cursed, weighing his options, which amounted to stay and fight, or hightail it out of there! "You men! A posse's on our tail, we can run or fight." He offered the choice because he really had no taste for running, from anything.
Of course he could not know that they were not from Big Flat, but Proctor, and not for them, yet in a matter of minutes, it would not matter to the posse who they were or where they were from, all they would be concerned with would be taking these men back dead or alive and retrieve their money!
The resounding reply was fight, none of them was much for running, and a fight sounded real good to men who were bored with riding. "All right then, get these horses to cover and you as well." Case ordered. He loosened his guns, the one in his holster and the back up he carried in his belt. The men were moving as soon as he started to speak, knowing what they had to do. All of them moved deeper into the trees, each with a rifle, be it a Winchester or another.
========
Sheriff Middleton was no fool. He was not about to ride into an ambush, and he expected one, based on the actions of the rider they had seen. Why else would the man turn and run. He caught the smell of their fire and raised a closed fist to halt his tiny cavalcade.
The riders closed around him as he spoke, "We're close and they'll be ready for us, count on it. We'll step down and work our way through the trees, there's a fire up ahead, so keep sharp, and a gun in your hand. Take no chances, use cover as best you can." There was a murmur of agreement and at Middleton's signal, they fanned out, staying as low and concealed as possible. All of them suddenly realizing what their decision had drawn them into.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Mostly these things came down to numbers, and the numbers were skewed to Case and his crowd. The facts were evident, the outlaws had the firepower and the will to use it. It was who they were. Taking a life was near meaningless for every man there. This posse of businessmen was no exception, and would seem like shooting fish in a barrel.
Now Roy Middleton was no tenderfoot when it came to the likes of the Steelgrave gang, a term that had not emerged as yet, and, knowledge he did not possess. He had battled outlaws in Missouri and in Kansas, before heading to what seemed greener pastures of Montana. So he knew a thing or two about dealing with bad men. He could not say the same for his posse.
Well back of where he suspected the outlaws were, and considering there were likely only three or four at most Middleton had a feeling, a feeling he didn't like. A feeling he and the others had been drawn in to a bigger situation. Not that he might have assumed these were not the bank robbers, that never crossed his mind, there was just something off about this situation. He motioned his men back, and they slowly retraced their steps back to where the horses were tied.
"I don't like this, there's just something wrong here. We may have stumbled onto more than we expected." He began. "So, get your rifles and fan out from here, no closer, get behind a rock of the tree, when I give the order, open up. Make sure you have ammunition to reload. I have this feeling all hell's liable to break loose." The five men with him were silent but nodded and went about what he had ordered.
When they were set, Middleton raised his arm, then dropped it like a saber. Six rifles opened up at nothing they could see.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
A fusillade of lead tore through the trees, branches snapping, leaves showering down, small rocks driven upwards by shots hitting the dirt and kicking them up. The outlaws dove for cover from the unexpected volley. Several had bullet burns, but none were hit. Hats took hits, but no bodies, and whoever was out there was keeping up the fire.
Then came the reload for the rifles, fifteen shots time six, ninety one ounce pellets smashing through the trees toward the outlaws could well have been devastating had they not been laying in wait, but came the lull, and then the outlaws opened up while posse hunkered down as they reloaded.
This was not good and Roy Middleton knew it. There was no question about whether or not they had been the robbers, there were far more men out there than the posse had. To continue meant they could be wiped out. Middleton also knew that the men on the other side could keep them pinned down while some others could flank them, and that would be the end.
"Pull back." He whispered as loudly as he could, the rifle fire from the other side allowing him to raise his voice some. "Pull back!" He knew that if he shouted, the men on the other side would hear it and charge them, he waved them back. Another lull and the posse opened up as they retreated, their fire erratic and not as concentrated as before, but they were able to get to the horses, mount up and turn tail heading for home. Middleton's thought? They had run onto the wrong men. Only Jed Gilespe had been wounded, and that was just a crease to his skull.
Case sensed whoever had fired on them had pulled back and ran for it. "Hold your fire!" he shouted as the all could hear the drumming of the hooves as it faded away. "Damn. Thanks to Toole here we didn't get surprised. Well, mount up boys we need to clear outta this country."
The posse pulled up and Gilespe's skull wound was tended to as best they could. "It ain't right, Roy, it just ain't right. They're getting away with our money."
"Easy Jed, I doubt those were the men that took the bank. Probably outlaws, but not the ones we're after. We'll make up the money over time, the mining company will have to make the payroll again, cuz that got that too. Damn! You're right, it just ain't right we catch up to the wrong men."
The Proctor posse headed home.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Looking at all of the money stacked before them, made them smile. Walt Shannon because he would be able to get a big split to the Steelgrave bunch and solidify their value as a part of his operation, however that was to go.
"Hell of a pile boys, we did real good! Case ought to be pleased with his take on this. And us? We done alright too." Walt said.
Oldham leaning against his saddle asked, "So how you gonna deliver his cut, Walt?" Not an odd thing to have two men with the same first name working on either side of the law together.
"Now that there is what I'm concentrating on, just how to get this cash to him. Maybe we ride ahead, make an appearance with it."
"And maybe his boys just shoot us and take it all, including our horses and rigs." 'Injun' Charley stated.
"Well, hell Charlie, that wouldn't be any to friendly now would it." Walt said.
"Nope, no it wouldn't, but it wouldn't be the first time." Came the reply from Oldham. "Sides, there-" Gunfire erupted not that far off, a lot of gun fire from two locations. That would be at the Steelgrave camp!
"Pack it up and let's git!" Shannon shouted, and they sprang into action, gathering all the cash and bagging it, then saddling their horse wit practiced speed, leaving nothing behind but smoldering embers for anyone to find, and that sounded like a posse engaged with the wrong crowd.
They rode out at break-neck speed to the North.
------------------------------
The echoes of the gunfire hadn't completely faded, nor had the smoke, and the acrid smell of gunpowder settled before Case and his men were well away from that campsite. They too were headed north, yet the chances of them intersecting with the Shannon trio were negligible, Shannon had a lead on Steelgrave by maybe ten minutes, and that meant a lot of ground covered. Then too, Shannon was cutting east for the town of Rollins, and their bank. Case would probably hold to his path north, knowing he and Shannon would connect later, somehow.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
A body might suspect that that was the end of it, but not so. True the badmen had escaped, both the real bank robbers and the Steelgrave bunch, and the posse limped home without recovering the money taken, one man with a superficial head wound, which for lack of a quarter inch might well have been laid over his saddle for the ride home. None were too happy.
The reception was warm at the outset, but became some chilly in short order, once it was realized they had not recovered the money, nor had they brought in the men responsible. They had failed, and an explanation was in order. Yet, the question was, how could it be explained when no explanation would be satisfactory.
"Where the hell's the money, Middleton?" One man yelled from the safety of the crowd
"Where's the men whot took it? You let 'em get away?" Another called out.
Dwyer Ellis stepped up, "As President of your bank I want to say that whoever had did this were professional robbers, experienced in night robberies and escaping justice."
"Hogwash!" One yelled in front. "Middleton's too long in the tooth for this job! He let 'em get away."
"Yeah! How about that Mister Sheriff?" That was Abigale Mundt, the schoolmarm. "You get outsmarted?"
"Why didn't you send a rider back for help, Middleton? Too busy bein' the hero?" Oscar Benson, town treasurer, whose coffers were now empty.
Roy Middleton had heard just about all he cared to when Mayor Eethan Clark stepped up on the boardwalk. Now Eethan is a genuine horses ass, figgered I'd just get that out there.
"Roy, we'll need to look into this unfortunate situation that-"
"That's about all I can stand!" It was Jed Gilespe. "Look into what? You wasn't out there, you don't know what happened. Fact is, none of us know how the bank was robbed or by whom! Lookin' into some empty boot'd tell ya about as much!" There were snickers, chuckles, and a few laughs from the crowd.
Grat Henry was shaking his head, "Middleton handled this better'n any man I've rode with. He took no chances with the lives of us. And he got us outta there when it was clear we was out numbered and outgunned."
"I was the first man on the scene!" That was Temporary Deputy Dawes Richardson. "I'm the one what saw 'em, an' I'm the one whot was trust up like a Christmas goose! There was three men! Just three, not no gang of outlaws, three men!" At that point Roy Middleton held up a hand and the crowd quieted down.
"We went after a man that ran from us, turned and high tailed it. We followed. There had to be better than a dozen men back in the trees with Winchesters, but we fired on 'em to see what they were made of. Their reply was better than twice our number. The choice was try for 'em and risk everyone dyin', or gettin' shut of the place while we could."
The silence was deafening.
"Clark, you been after this badge for your son in-law since he married your daughter," He deftly unpinned the tin star, "Well, you look into this all you want. Hell, you can ride out there and have a look, I'm sure there's plenty of brass laying about, lots of tracks to follow, story'll be plain to read. But you can have the badge, maybe give to William like you want, or maybe, you decide to give it back, I couldn't say, but we'll have words you, the town council and me about it.' He tossed the badge at Clark's feet, then turned and walked away, the posse members with him, and Dawes Richardson too.
Of course, I'd be remiss not to tell the rest. There was this 'investigation' and when the town council met and the crowd heard each of the posse members re-hash what had happened, there was an outcry from the very people that had turned on Middleton some days earlier. It was clear, no one had ridden out to the scene of the incident, no one tried to follow the tracks that couldn't be read in the sand. They had sat in the Omega Hotel dining room to discuss the situation.
By the end of oratory, a recall was vocalized, and, there had been two robberies. One conveniently covering the first. Phesley Prescott, Council Secretary stood abruptly, "I cannot abide this any longer. We left thirty-five hundred of the seventy-five hundred dollar payroll in the bank. The rest Deputy Richardson will find-" The gunshot was ear-splitting in the crowded room. Standing, pale-faced and bug-eyed was Mayor Eethan Clark, the smoking gun in his hand.
Middleton walked over an simply took the gun from him, then picked up the badge and put it on. It was the whole Town Council who were involved for a share in what might have been easy money, you see they planned to pin it on Freddy McCorkle who had an uncle, Clayton McCorkle, a noted bank robber. How you ask? The details of their plan were never divulged, not that it mattered.
The men were tried and promptly hung. And that's the way it was in Proctor Montana.
Case and the boys had dropped their speed to a walk, there was no sense killing their horses, especially with no remuda to draw replacements from. Any spares they had were long gone with all the shooting. His thought was, the posse was too small to give chase, and he was right. In reality, the posse had not been for him, and they found the robbers, they could have taken Shannon and his boys easily enough. Well, that was their problem, and not his. His problem was more immediate.
Where were they going to find a place for the men to blow off some steam? That, was both the question, and the problem. So, he called a halt, feeling they had no one behind them. Once they had all loosened their cinches to let their mount blow he gathered them around.
"We need to find us a place to get us some supplies, some drinks, and maybe a little fun." He said with a smile, almost a rare expression for Case Steelgrave. "Any ideas?"
"If it ain't went bust, there was a camp, minin' camp up'th end of this here crick we're follerin'." Whit Whimore explained. "I'us there mebee, a month ago an' she was boomin' then, well, not so's anybodied know." Whit informed them. "Had jest about everthin', gamblin', drinkin, an' several girls I remember, an' no law." That drew approval from every man there. "Ain't real big and the aim is ta keep 'er thet way."
"Well, get a fire going, some coffee and jerked beef, give the horses some rest before we head on up there." Case ordered.
"There's easy trail over the mountains dump us out right near Kalispell." Whit added. that sounded good to Case. Kalispell could wait, but the hideout would be where they needed to get to. Maybe ride over to the Evergreen and see what was what.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
The trail was well used, but rough. There was room to pass, large enough for a wagon, but Perhaps on purpose, a way to discourage visitors, or claim jumpers for that matter, something Case and his crowd never even considered. It was work, hard work, stealing what hard work had provided was far easier.
It took the better part of the day for them to crest the last peak, which was little more than one more in a series of foothills to the edge of the small valley like indention where a score of rough hewn buildings stood, and an array of canvas tents, some a bit worse for wear. The trail would turn into a main street of sorts. Smoke lifted from numerous chimneys for even though it was summer, at the altitude there was a bite to the air. There had been the promise of many things, but most of the men were looking for a room or a bed somewhere.
Yet they sat there horses, looking down on the mining camp, each with his own thoughts, what was it they would actually find down there? And what woman in her right mind, whore or not would live in a place like that. Sure, there would be gold, coin, even paper money, yet how could they stand the boredom of this place, and they hadn't even been there yet, but boredom was apparent, as apparent as the hard work the men did to afford their services.
Case surveyed the line of riders, "Ready, boys?" He asked, and started forward.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
They rode into the town like it was theirs, because it could be, in the blink of an eye. The finest building on the single street was the bank. And as they rode past, every man looked at it as a plumb to be taken. Not that they didn't have enough money, with the promise of more out there that would require no work to have, but it was there, and so were they.
No law. Perhaps some of the miners, or the business men would stand up to them, but in the end Steelgrave's men knew who would win out.
Granted, the men on that rock were hard men that lived a hard life, and most had been in the past conflict, fought Indians along the way, and outlaws just like the men riding into their village. It was one street, with one side to it, though there were tents facing the buildings, such as they were. Fifteen killers pulled up in front of the saloon, one of two, but the only one that was a wooden building as opposed to a tent. They dismounted like men that had ridden far, each stretching from the hours on the trail, then straightening up as other men looked them over, more than one realizing what was in their midst, and not liking it.
Some decided immediately that these men were trouble of the worst kind, and moved off the street and away from the group of dismounted riders. Others that were looking on turned away and seemingly went about their business. The fact was, many of them were making their way out of town, as Case and the first of the men pushed though the bat wing doors of the saloon.
There were four women inside, there were a number of men, the bartender, of course. But four women who at first realized the easy money that would be available from these strangers, and then the reality of the prospect of being abused and not paid set in. Hardly uncommon. They knew they could not count on any help from the bartender or the other men. They were, for all intents and purposes, on their own. One of them was out the back door before many realized she had fled.
"Barkeep, set 'em up!" Case demanded, following his order with a pair of double eagles clattering on the bar top.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Case had said nothing about how they were to act in this town, they were who they were, who the citizens thought they were and they would act accordingly. One thing they all knew was that there might not be any badge wearing law, but men in a place like this had their own agreed upon code, and that just might be a problem for the Steelgrave gang.
There was hardly room at the hitch rails for fifteen horses, so awning posts would have to suffice. as they tied up in front of the Lucky Nugget Saloon, something of an odd name, but it was a mining camp after all. Each of them stretched in his own particular way to loosen up after the ride., then the entered a saloon kind of spreading out. The room was wide as well as deep with an array of tables and chairs scattered about. Far more than were being used. But the men crowded to the bar to get drinks.
And yes, there were girls, well women, although they were hanging back. Seeing one or two new faces was one thing, fifteen? Quite another. But, soon enough the lure of easy money would overcome their caution. Meanwhile some of the locals had finished their drinks and left. Did they sense something, or just a need to be away from the place?
The drinks kept coming, and they paid for them, in fact, for the time being they were well behaved, as well behaved as one would think outlaws could be, yet as they drank, they became more boisterous, laughing and having their brand of fun. But they kept paying and the women all three of them picked out men they thought they might be able to handle. This was always a risk, for what they found on the saloon floor may not be what they would find upstairs.
The afternoon slipped into early evening, and the men slipped into to the haze of drunkenness. In fact, Toole was the first to succumb and pass out in his chair, he would not be alone. Others paraded up and down the stairs with the three women.
Case, meanwhile, sat in the back of the room nursing his drink, watching.
As the bartender lit the lamps while the evening fell into darkness, others who were getting off their shift began to stream into the place.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Now, the way it was, Walt Shannon and his pards lit out hearing all that gun fire surely made them nervous. They were well away from their camp and headed for the nearest town. They had plenty of cash money without risk to Case's share, and it was time for a break in their action. Banks don't go anywhere, so in actuality, they were in no hurry to hit the next one.
The fact was, they had no idea where Case and his boys were, just that they too would be headed north. So they headed east for the towns along what was now called Flathead Lake, and there would be no better place to lay low than the town of Rollins, the next target. There was no hurry to get anywhere, and they were free to ride anywhere they wanted, at the moment that was Rollins, but they were headed to Kalispell, not for it's bank, but to meet up with Case.
Rollins was fair sized, but they had a hotel, a bath house, three saloons and a Chinese laundry, not to mention a cracker box for a bank. A couple days for the saddle sores, some clean clothes, meals they didn't have to cook and just plain rest was agreeable to all three. This might be an interesting layover. They would catch up with Steelgrave, all in good time.