Winterborn Ch. 03

With a look of disbelief, the big drunk moved his hand toward his gun. "You damn chea......." Knox started but Dillon interrupted.

"KNOX," Dillon said with a loud strong voice. "You're about to make a big mistake. Stop and think about your next move." Dillon pulled his duster away from his holster pistol staring at Knox with ice cold blue eyes.

"That's enough boys. Just stand easy," a voice from behind Dillon said. He didn't turn his head, keeping his attention on Knox.

"Jim slowly pull your gun and put it on the table," the voice ordered. When Knox complied the voice added, "Now you Mister, put yours on the table too."

Dillon hesitated, knowing that the man behind him probably had a gun trained on him. "I'd like to know who's giving the orders before I comply," Dillon said without emotion.

The man walked to the side where Dillon could see him and the badge on his vest; he also saw the double barrel shotgun the man was carrying. "I'm Charley Jackson, the Sheriff in these parts."

Dillon nodded and slowly laid his pistol on the table. He smiled to himself at the shotgun; guess a lot of lawmen use one, he said to himself.

Sheriff Jackson picked up both pistols. "Jim go home, you're drunk and about to get yourself in trouble. You're damn lucky you didn't get yourself killed. You can pick up your gun tomorrow when you sober up."

Knox looked at Jackson, then at Dillon, and then at the money on the table. Finally he turned and left the saloon, stomping out in anger.

"Now who are you and what are you doing here?" Jackson asked Dillon.

"Name's Dillon Gallagher. I just rode in a couple of days ago. Plan on finding a job and staying for awhile."

"Why did you warn Knox instead of drawing on him? You give the impression that you know how to use this hog leg," the Sheriff said hoisting Dillon's .44.

"Well I'll tell you Sheriff. Even since I left Wichita Falls seems like one person or another has tried to draw down on me. To be honest I'm getting real tired of shooting people."

Sheriff Jackson looked at Dillon in surprised disbelief. "You don't impress me as someone that'd turn the other cheek Gallagher."

"Didn't say I was. I'll defend myself and not lose a minute's sleep over it but it don't mean I have to like killing. If I had my way I'd never pull that .44 again," Dillon answered. He exchanged looks with Jackson and then added.

"As far as Knox, he wasn't much of a threat. He was drunk and I don't think he's as good with a gun as he thinks he is. So I thought I might shock him out of doing something both stupid and deadly."

Jackson smiled a little and nodded. "Yeah, Jim thinks he's John Wesley Hardin and Wild Bill Hickok all rolled into one. Truth be told, he's lucky he hasn't shot off his foot."

Dillon laughed and paused for a few seconds. "Sheriff, could I have my gun back now. I don't plan on using it tonight but I feel sort of undressed without it."

Sheriff Jackson looked Dillon in the eye for about 30 seconds and handed the .44 back to him. As Dillon holstered the weapon the Sheriff remarked, "I saw your interest in my scattergun here, any special reason?"

"On my last job, my boss and I both carried coach guns," Dillon replied.

"What job was that Mr. Gallagher?"

"I was the deputy marshal in Wichita Falls for two years. My boss, Marshal Ryan convinced me toting a shotgun was the thing to do."

"That Tom Ryan you're talking about?" At Dillon's nod he added, "Haven't seen Tom in better than five years." Seeing the question on Dillon's face, the Sheriff continued, "I was the Marshal there for four years and Tom Ryan was my deputy."

Dillon smiled, it was nice to meet someone who knew and liked his friend.

"How's Tom's wife Stella and their two boys doing?"

He smiled to himself at the obvious ploy by Jackson to see if Dillon was telling the truth. Dillon looked the Sheriff in the eye and grinned. "Her name is Juanita and she's doing just fine; they don't have any children."

The Sheriff smiled at being caught testing the young man. "Sorry, but anybody can say they're someone they're not. No offense intended," Jackson said offering his hand to Dillon.

"None taken," Dillon replied and shook the Sheriff's hand. "Is there work available round here?"

"Depends on what you can do."

"I can work stock, I'm as good as most with horses; Guess I can put my hand to most anything," Dillon answered. "Fact is I've been offered jobs as a shotgun guard for the stage line or an armed guard for the freight wagons. That's not really what I want to do. I'd prefer something that doesn't depend on using my gun."

"You're dressed pretty fancy for a cowboy but Bob Cassidy over to the Circle C is always lookin for hands. His is the biggest ranch in the area. Or if you can read and write," Jackson said and at Dillon's nod continued, "Several of the stores and outfitters here in town are looking for clerks. With your clothes you'd fit right in as a clerk."

Dillon returned the Sheriff's smile. "Think I'll hold off trying my hand at clerking. Don't think I'd like being inside all the time. Can you give me directions to the Circle C?"

Jackson told him how to get to the ranch and said, "It's a good three hour ride out there. Today's Thursday, if you can wait another day, Cassidy usually comes into the bank and the mercantile on Saturday. You could talk to him then."

"Thank you Sheriff, well I reckon I'll call it a night. I've had about enough excitement for one evening. Good night," Dillon said and walked back to the boarding house.

Saturday morning around 9, Dillon went to the stable and saddled Buck. He rode the horse into the center of Prescott and hitched him in front of the bank. He hadn't been there for more than an half an hour when six men rode up. The hitching rail already had three horses tied to it including Buck.

One of the men got down and untied two of the horses and moved them to the rail in front of the building next door. When he came back and started to untie Buck, Dillon spoke up.

"Mister, that's my horse. I don't know about the gents that own those others but I'd prefer if you left my horse alone," he said in a polite but strong voice.

The cow hand looked at Dillon, taking in his frock coat, whipcord pants, and string tie. He assumed by the clothes and the way he spoke that the young man facing him was a dude. His assumption was wrong.

"Sonny, you don't know who you're talking to. Just mind your manners and keep quiet while I move this nag out of the way," he said to Dillon. He put his hand on his gun belt and reached for Buck's reins.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Leave my horse be," Dillon ordered as he moved his coat uncovering his holstered pistol.

"Earl, that's enough," a short stocky man said. "You and Joe take our horses next door and tie them. And bring back those two you moved."

"But Mr. Cassidy, this young pup is......"

"Shut up Earl and do as you're told," Cassidy ordered. Turning to Dillon he said, "I'm Bob Cassidy, please excuse my man there. Sometimes I don't think he has sense enough to pour water out of a boot." Cassidy hadn't made the same assumption about Dillon as his hand. He saw a man that was willing to stand up for himself. The pistol worn low on his hip gave Cassidy an idea that the young man was more than he appeared.

"No harm done sir," Dillon replied. "I was waiting for you. My name's Dillon Gallagher; Sheriff Jackson said you might be hiring. I could use a job."

"Ever worked cattle before," Cassidy asked openly looking at Dillon's clothes.

Dillon smiled, "Don't let the clothes fool you Mr. Cassidy. I worked for Creed Taylor down in DeWitt for a year or so back in '65 and just made the drive from Texas to Abilene with Ray Fleming."

Cassidy nodded, thought for a few seconds and said, "Pays $50 a month and found. Come out to the ranch Sunday evening and get settled in the bunkhouse. You can start Monday. That suit you Gallagher?" See Dillon's nod in agreement he said, "See you Sunday evening, suppers at 5 if you've a mind."

Dillon nodded and entered the bank and opened an account using the bank draft. The next thing he did was mail a letter to his mother in Boston. Dillon had written to his mother and received her replies every three or four weeks while he lived in Wichita Falls. When he left Texas he wrote that he would let her know when he got settled. Dillon wrote that he planned to stay in the Prescott area and that she could write him care of the local post office.

He went to the largest of the general stores to mail the letter; the post office was at the back of the store. While he was there Dillon bought some work pants and a couple of shirts; the ones he'd been wearing on the trail were pretty beat up.

While he was in the mercantile, Sheriff Jackson came in. The Sheriff bought a few personal items including a bag of stick candy. Dillon smiled when he saw the lawman sucking a piece of candy.

"Do you use that candy to persuade some desperado to give up? Or do you pay rewards with stick candy instead of money?"

Jackson returned Dillon's grin and replied, "When I was a youngster, we couldn't afford many extras. When I grew up and got out on my own I promised myself that I'd always have a penny for candy."

Dillon laughed and said, "Sometimes small pleasures are the best. "By the way thanks for your suggestion about the Circle C. I met Mr. Cassidy and I start work for him on Monday."

The Sheriff looked thoughtful before he spoke. He'd developed a respect for Dillon because of the incident with Knox in the saloon. Not many men would have held off killing someone that accused them of cheating at cards. In addition Jackson had sent a telegram to Tom Ryan. One reason was just to say hello and let Ryan know that Gallagher was in Prescott. The other reason was to get more information on the young man.

Ryan had telegraphed back that Dillon was a fine young man. He also told Jackson that Dillon was from Virginia, about his experiences in the war, and the reason Dillon left home after Lee surrendered. The Sheriff felt he should give Dillon more information on Cassidy, considering Dillon's history.

"Dillon, you might want to rethink takin that job." Jackson explained about the telegrams and the information he'd received from Tom Ryan concerning Dillon's past. "Cassidy came out here about two years ago and started buying up land and ranches. He was part of the Northern reconstruction in Virginia until early '69."

Watching Dillon's face he continued, "There's a lot of talk that Cassidy got rich as one of the Northern regulators. I do know he rode into town and started throwin money around. Just thought you should know before you went to work for him."

Dillon's reaction to the information startled the Sheriff. He saw Dillon's eyes change to a cold ice blue and his face become a hard mask of anger. Dillon took a deep breath and said, "You're right Sheriff, I don't want to work for a bastard like Cassidy. Thanks for telling me. You may have saved someone's life today."

Jackson watched Dillon stalk out of the general store and thought; he looks for all the world like a big wolf on the prowl.

As he walked out of the store and started to where Buck was tied, Dillon was glad that Jackson had told him about Cassidy's past. I might have shot him on general principles if I'd found out after I started working for him, Dillon said to himself.

Just opposite from his horse he stared at two men on the sidewalk. Dillon had seen them before; they'd been with Cassidy that morning in front of the bank. The reason he stared was one of the men held a boy about 12 by the arm shaking him. The man slapped the boy knocking him to the ground.

Dillon stepped over and helped the boy to his feet. "You okay son?"

The boy's eyes were wide with fright; the side of his face was red where he'd been hit. "Let me go Mister, I need to get away from them," he said looking back at the two men.

"Don't worry boy, they won't bother you anymore," Dillon replied. As the two men stepped toward Dillon he pushed the boy behind him and faced them.

"Stand aside, we've got business with the boy," one of the men said.

"He must be a real desperado if it takes two grown men to handle a boy. I'd like to know what he did to cause you to slap him around," Dillon said.

"It don't concern you. Now step away."

"How long you boys been working for Cassidy?" Dillon asked. The men stopped confused by the question.

"Sam there's been with him for four years. I've worked there for three. Why?"

"And what's your name Mister?" Dillon continued.

"I'm Miles Stewart. Why?"

"I just wanted to be able to tell Cassidy the names of the two men he's going to have to replace," Dillon answered.

"What?"

"If you don't leave the boy alone, you're not going to be fit to work for a while." Dillon's voice was like steel.

Sam and Miles looked at each other and began to talk softly among themselves. Miles looked back at Dillon and said, "Don't think Mr. Cassidy's gonna like his new hand interfering."

"Well I'll solve that problem for him. Tell Cassidy that I changed my mind; I don't care to work for him," Dillon replied. "Now you boys run along."

The two men hesitated for a few seconds and then walked back toward the bank and Cassidy.

Dillon turn to the boy and asked, "Now what did you do to get them riled up at you?"

"I didn't do nothing," the boy said. "Honest. Every time we come to town Mr. Cassidy's men give us a hard time."

"You sure? You didn't say anything that might have riled them up?"

"Well....." the boy answered. "When we met they told me to get out of their way. I said I had as much right to be on the sidewalk as they did. The one called Miles started for me and I stepped aside."

"That's all?"

The boy hesitated and said, "As they walked by I may have said something about when I got older we'd see who'd step aside. That's when he grabbed me."

Dillon had to smile at the youngster's spunk if not at his common sense. "Aren't you a little young to brace two grown men?"

"I'm twelve and a half," the boy said with pride. "My pa and ma taught me stand up for myself. Then in a low voice said, "I might have over done it this time."

Laughing at the boy's confession Dillon asked, "What's you name son and who is this we you're talking about?"

"I'm Ethan Edwards. My mother, sister, and I usually come to town together. We own the Triple E ranch over to Prescott Valley and get supplies and such on Saturdays."

Dillon felt the wooden sidewalk vibrate and shake as someone came up behind him. He turned around and saw the biggest man he'd even seen bearing down on him. The man had an angry look on his face.

"Get away from him Mister," he said pointing to Ethan.

Dillon smiled and put his hand on the boys shoulder. "Just getting to know the boy, no harm done."

The huge man stopped about three feet away. "Take your hand off him before I rip your arm off and beat you to death with it."

Dillon's smile faded; he dropped his hand and faced the big man. Dillon saw a man that had to be 6' 6 at least. He must weigh 300 pounds Dillon thought. The big man was just that big. He had huge hands, his arms looked as big as Dillon's legs, and his legs looked like tree trunks. If his size wasn't enough to intimidate someone, the scar running from his hairline down over one eye added to his menacing look.

Dillon held up his hands toward the giant. "I wasn't hurting the boy."

"It's okay Oso," Ethan said. "He helped me with that Sam and Miles; they were slapping me around and this man stopped them."

Oso quickly calmed down and stepped back a little. "Sorry Mister, I saw a stranger holding on to Ethan and jumped to the wrong conclusion."

Dillon nodded and explained. "I saw two of Cassidy's men roughing the boy up. They stopped when I asked them to leave the boy alone."

Ethan giggled and said to Oso, "He told them that they wouldn't be able to work for a long time if they didn't leave me alone."

Oso smiled and stuck out his huge hand. "I'm Oso. Thanks for taking care of Ethan, Mr....?"

"Dillon Gallagher." After shaking hands with the giant, he wanted to count his fingers to make sure they were still there. "Ethan said that Cassidy's men give him and his family trouble every time they come into town. Why?"

"Because Mr. Cassidy wants our ranch," a young woman said coming up behind Dillon. "He thinks the rough treatment by his men will make us sell out to him. I'm Elizabeth Edwards. I overheard what you did for my brother Mr. Gallagher, thank you. "

"My pleasure Miss Edwards," Dillon replied tipping his hat. None of the women he'd seen or met since Emma had any effect on him. He was just passing through and no woman interested him enough to slow down his travels. His was polite, even cordial but hadn't taken an interest in them. Elizabeth Edwards was an exception; she did interest him.

Elizabeth was about 5'9 with a slender but well formed body. She's tall for a woman Dillon thought. She wore a flat brimmed hat on her auburn hair. The hair color and green eyes told of an Irish heritage. Elizabeth had a few freckles across her nose and her eyes were striking. She had high cheek bones, a strong chin, and an air of confidence and independence. No shrinking violet here, Dillon thought. To him she seemed perfect. She wasn't wearing the normal gingham dress but wore a split riding skirt, boots, and a man's shirt. A fine Irish colleen, he said to himself.

"Thanks again for rescuing my brother," she said. "We need to go back to the ranch. Come on Oso, that wagon won't load its self," Elizabeth said and walked away.

"Yes Niña, I'm coming," Oso replied.

Dillon watched the slender young woman stride away; she moved with a cat like grace. He thought for a few seconds and then quoted softly:

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes"

Oso looked at him. "Huh? What did you say?"

A self depreciating smile moved over his face and Dillon answered, "Just part of a poem I remembered. It seemed to fit."

Oso shook his head. "Hope to see you again under better times Mr. Gallagher. Thanks again for helping Ethan." The big man moved surprisingly quickly and followed Ethan and Elizabeth.

Later that evening after supper with the Jenkins, Dillon decided to go to a saloon for some poker. The saloon was also a good place to get a line on the jobs available in the area. He'd been sitting at a table playing five card stud for about an hour when Cassidy and two of his men strode into the saloon. They walked to the bar as if they owned the place, sometimes pushing men aside.

After getting drinks the men looked around the room. Miles, the man Dillon had a run in with earlier that day, notice Dillon at the table and pointed him out to his boss. Cassidy nodded and started toward the poker game; Miles and the other hand followed him.

When he got close to the table Cassidy said, "I heard you changed you mind about working for me. I'd like to know why Gallagher."

Dillon ignored him for a few seconds as he looked at his poker hand. Folding the hand, Dillon replied, "Your men are animals. You let, even encourage them to rough up two women and a young boy. I don't want to work for someone that can't or won't keep his dogs on a leash. "

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to, drifter?" Cassidy was upset that Dillon didn't pay him the proper respect.

Dillon moved his chair around to face Cassidy and his two heel hounds. "I know you own the biggest ranch in the county. I know that you think you're the big he bull around these parts." He stared hard at Cassidy as he talked. "And I know you're a damned Yankee carpetbagger that stole money from decent folks in Virginia."