Wednesday Afternoon, August 6, 1876
A lone rider made his way up the trail toward the Evergreen ranch house to meet with this Elias Steelgrave he had heard so much about in the past month. It had been a long ride from Essex, but what awaited him was enough to retire, and get as far from Montana as possible. Like Mexico or South America, he understood Americans were welcomed down there.
No one had seen him, that he was aware of, or would remember him. It was three weeks ago he had passed through Kalispell, and got a good look at this Town Marshal of theirs. A man he decided he wouldn't care to face one on one. He was a patient man, so waiting on a target to have the perfect opportunity for the kill shot was something he was used to doing. He had located the perfect place to wait on his target, he had long since refrained from the word 'victim.'
He had been on that roof for two days, missed as many shots not taken before the man stopped in the doorway with some woman, another man, and a kid. But he was also a confident man. He had thought to use his .45-.70, had deferred to a scoped .30-.06 which had been rechambered for a .44 a smaller cartridge than the .45 Colt, but packed just as much of a wallop! A heart shot was what he decided on, with the overhang it would be easier, and just as effective. He assured himself of the placement, just above the badge, eased the trigger back until the rifle jumped, and the target fell, but the man was already off the roof and mounting up
He was clearing some trees when two men walked their hose out with shotguns.
"Ah, Greeners, good choice. I'm here to see a Mister Steelgrave?" He asked, hopeful this was the right place. "Osage Kid, Ned Okerland by name."
"Yeah?" The first one asked as if there should be more.
"Wanna unstrap them hog legs, and hang on yer saddle horn, Mister Okerlind." The second ordered.
"Certainly, be glad to." Came his response as he unbuckled his rig, two pistols Double cross draw, but worn close to the front of his waist.
"Follow me." The first one said.
It had been three hours since Jensen had ridden for Kalispell, when there was a knock on the and Rawley Jensen let himself in, as was the custom on the Evergreen. Hat in hand he walked into the study where it was apparent the two men had eaten dinned which meant all was well, as the stranger was not dead on the floor.
"Mister Steelgrave, word has it Guyer may not have survived, from those I talked to. Most, and I talked to those that were right there afterward, he was dead before they moved him. Either way, sir, don't appear Guyer's much of a problem." He explained.
"Good news then, either way. He's as good as dead if he isn't." Then he looked at Okerlind, "Been a pleasure Mister Okerlind, it certainly has. So you have relieved me of a problem and there is payment due." He opened the side drawer and took out two stacks of bills and set them before himself. He smiled, "Maybe not dead, but certainly as good as, fifteen thousand dollars was the deal." He slid the money across the desktop. "Thank you for services rendered, and I may have use for you in the future. There are several loose ends I'd like tied up, you understand."
"Well, I'm liable to be south of the border, or maybe Frisco for a while," Okerlind said with a rye smile. " There'll be a way to get a hold of me, I'll insure you have it."
"Good, and Mister Okerlind, this could be the beginning of a most rewarding association for you," Elias said.
Okerlind got to his feet, stuffing the cash into his pockets, for the time being, and stretched his arm across the desk, hand open, Elias stood and they shook hands.
Jasen, show the man out would you?" Elias requested. He felt as if a great burden was lifted from his shoulders.
Case Steelgrave rode into the ranch hell-bent for leather. No one stopped him as they knew him on sight. He stepped down and went directly inside.
"you have him shot?" Case demanded to know, "This your plan? I show my face in town an' they'll string me up no trial needed!"
"Easy son, now granted, it looks that way, but no I didn't have it done. But, someone put it out that I wanted him dead, and, was paying fifteen thousand dollars. The man put him down and I paid it, gladly. Now Guyer's out of our hair, either dead or wounded badly. So maybe you can't ride into town, or me either for that matter, but what have they got for law?"
"I couldn't say, except I do know them two Territorial Marshals are still around, and if he ain't dead, he surely could have deputized any number of people. Maybe even Hannah Cory. This may well have been a mistake! A big mistake." Case responded.
"Sure, it could be, then again bein' shot has a way of workin' on a man. What has Guyer got he dosen't want to lose? A woman, his mining business? Heard tell that he had a mining claim. Now if all of that is true, Speed Guyer may take a second look at that Marshal's job." Elias proposed. "Maybe, he thinks more than twice about pinning that badge on again. Maybe not, but he'll be more cautious now, that's for sure. I'd say, skittish. That's what I'd call it."
"You're probably right, if he lives, anyone been to town about it?" Case inquired. There were things he did not trust, and guessing how a man might react to anything was one of those things.
"Yeah, Jansen came back saying he was alive, but maybe not for long. So we'll have to wait and see how this unfolds."
"I guess so." Was the response, not one Case liked, but it was the fact of the matter.
Friday, September 22nd, 1876
Things on the Evergreen had been quiet as they awaited word from town regarding the condition of Marshal Speed Guyer. When it came, it was disappointing to most, but especially Elias Steelgrave, who was furious. He had paid what he considered to be a 'Kings Ransome' to see the man dead because he bought the assassin's lie. But Oakerlind had told what he believed to be the truth, that Guyer made the slightest of moves could not be accounted for. The shot had found its mark, just a shade high of the fatal spot, just a fraction lower.
The plan was then thrown off kilter Guyer was alive, gravely wounded but expected to recover. Then the Territorial Marshals abruptly left, while the exact situation with Hannah Corry, Quentin Cantrell, and the stranger, whoever he was, continued to make them cautious. Rumor had it he was a Thornton, one they had never heard of. And that in and of itself made things a bit more uneasy.
And then took a change for the worse, Elias fell sick with a touch of pneumonia, and it was all Sour Dough could do to pull him through with his minimal medical knowledge. Though being a cook for several outfits had provided him with plenty of opportunities to learn things to keep men alive. That happened the first week of September and he was still fighting to get his strength back, spending most of his days sitting on the porch in the sun and taking lots of fluids doing a slow burn at his inability to initiate plans to strike at Lost Lake, not at the heart as he would like, but to strike them where he found them.
There was no easy way to hit the ranch proper, and that was infuriating as well as it was desirable. To take Lost Lake would have him in control of an all but impenetrable fortress that now belonged to the Thorntons and had for decades. Still, the lust for the Lost Lake property was stronger than his physical strength to take it from them, just as they had taken his son Cal. At least for the time being. He would heal, he would demand his body recover.
Date is from the 1876 calendar