The Devil's Posse

by Charles G. West

Genres: Action & Adventure; Historical Fiction; Westerns

Synopsis

IDLE HANDS
 
Always dependable, brothers Logan and Billy Cross have worked the same cattle drive since they were teenagers. Now that they’re men, their boss is retiring, and they’re out of a job. He sends them to Fort Pierre in the Dakota Territory, recommending they join up with a horse drive to Sturgis.
 
But the Crosses’ journey takes a dark turn when they enter a saloon to meet their prospective boss. After the younger brother, Billy, foolishly smiles at someone else’s woman, he draws the ire of Quincy Morgan and his gang of outlaws. Soon the brothers will learn a valuable lesson—one that will be paid for in blood....

Release date: March 3, 2015

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 304

Sample

A SORE LOSER

SIGNET

Chapter 1

“Here you go, boys!” Oscar Bradley called out as he approached the group of men waiting at the corner of the corral, their saddles and other gear on the ground beside it. “It’s payday.” He picked a saddle to sit on and set the leather bag, in which he kept his notebook, on the ground in front of him. “Like I told you when you signed on back in Ogallala, this is gonna be my last drive, and I promised I’d pay you a bonus if we made it here in less than twenty-three days.” He paused to look around at the expectant faces. “Well, we made it in twenty-one, with the cattle in good shape. But the price for cattle is down, so I ain’t gonna give you that bonus.” He paused again to witness the looks of shock and disappointment, but unable to play the joke out any further, he cracked, “I’m just joshin’ ya. I got top dollar for the cattle, but you oughta see the look on your faces.” The silence that had descended upon the drovers immediately erupted into a burst of cackling relief. “Like I said, you can each pick one horse outta this bunch in the corral, too. Now, who’s first?”

“I reckon I am,” Smoky Lewis volunteered, and stepped forward. The cook on the drive, Smoky owned his chuck wagon and the team of horses that pulled it. He had a separate arrangement with Oscar, since he had come along as an independent contractor to do the cooking. “You might not really be japin’, so I’ll get my money before you run out.”

His remark, made in jest, brought a few chuckles from the other men. Oscar Bradley was a fair man. Each of his drovers knew that he would lose money on the sale of the cattle before he would go back on his word to them. Their only regret was the fact that this was Oscar’s last drive.

One by one, the men stepped up to receive their pay. Oscar marked each man’s name off in his notebook with his pencil and shook the man’s hand. He paused briefly when the Cross brothers stepped up. Billy, the younger, was first. He and his brother, Logan, had been working for Oscar since they were teenage boys, and they had proven to be his most dependable drovers.

“I’m sorry I don’t have something else for you fellers, but like I told you, I’m headin’ back to Omaha to sit in a rockin’ chair on my daughter’s front porch. I know I’d sure as hell give you a good recommendation, if anybody was to ask me.”

“Thanks, Oscar,” Logan replied.

“What are you plannin’ to do, go back to Ogallala with the rest of the boys?” Oscar asked.

“I reckon so,” Logan said. “We ain’t talked about doin’ anything else.”

“Except gettin’ a drink of whiskey first thing,” Billy piped up. “That’s about as long as I wanna stay around this place.”

He and Logan had already decided that there was no future for them in Fort Pierre. It seemed the only sensible thing for them to do was to return to Ogallala with the others in hopes of signing on with another cattleman. Herding cattle was all they knew.

“Hang around till I get everybody paid,” Oscar said. “There’s a little somethin’ I’d like to run by you.”

Billy glanced at his brother, and Logan responded with a shrug. “Sure thing, Oscar,” Logan said. “I’m gonna go throw my saddle on that flea-bitten gray standin’ over by the fence before somebody else has the same idea.” The gray had been his favorite and the one that he had most often ridden. It was the only one he had named, calling it Pepper. Having already set his sights on a buckskin, Billy followed him.

After every man had selected a horse and saddled it, Smoky Lewis motioned to Logan and said, “We’re goin’ over to the Cattleman’s Saloon. You and Billy comin’?”

“You go ahead,” Logan said. “We’ll be along.”

When the others had gone, Oscar put his notebook away and picked up his leather bag. “I was talkin’ to a feller at the cattle sale, and he said he was lookin’ to hire a couple of men to help him drive some horses over to Sturgis in the Black Hills. He’s got two men who work for him, but he could use a couple more, since he wound up buyin’ more than he planned.” Oscar smiled and winked. “I sold him the rest of the horses here in the corral at such a good price he couldn’t pass it up.” He paused for their reaction before continuing. “Anyway, I told him I knew two good men who might be interested. Whaddaya think? You wanna drive some horses over to the Black Hills? There’s a helluva lot goin’ on up that way ever since the government opened the hills up for prospectors. This feller said there’s a heap of travel on the roads between here and Sturgis—mule trains, bull trains, wagons, and everything else that rolls or trots. Might be somethin’ else over that way for you boys.”

As usual, Billy looked at his older brother for his reaction. “How long a drive would it be?” Logan asked.

“He said it’s about a hundred and fifty miles from here,” Oscar said. “It’d take a week or more, I expect. I told him I’d see if you were interested.”

Again, looking to Logan for his opinion, Billy shrugged and joked, “I don’t recollect any appointments we’ve got. Whadda you think, Logan?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to talk to the man,” Logan replied. “Where do we find him?”

“He said he’ll be in O’Malley’s place in about an hour from now. It’s that little saloon down the street from the hotel. His name’s Matt Morrison—seems like a reasonable feller.”

“Okay, we’ll go talk to him,” Logan said. “That all right with you?” he asked Billy. When his brother shrugged indifferently, he turned back to Bradley. “Much obliged, Oscar. We appreciate it.” They shook hands again, and then he and Billy climbed into their saddles.

Oscar stood there and watched them as they rode off toward the town of Fort Pierre. I wish I was as young as those two, he thought. I’d ride to the Black Hills with them.

*   *   *

Fort Pierre was settled on the west bank of the Missouri River, on a level plain that provided easy access to the river. It was a pleasant setting for a town, but it held no attraction for the Cross brothers. They rode past the Cattleman’s Saloon, even though there was plenty of time to have a drink or two with the rest of Oscar’s crew before Mr. Morrison was supposed to be at O’Malley’s. They both agreed that it might cause some resentment if the others found out that Oscar had favored them with his recommendation.

There were a few horses tied up in front of O’Malley’s, though not as many as those at the larger saloon’s hitching rail. Dismounting, they pulled their rifles from the saddle slings and walked in the door. They paused to let their eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, a sharp contrast to the bright summer sunshine outside. After a moment, they started toward a table against the opposite wall, thinking it a good place to watch the door and spot Morrison when he walked in.

They had taken no more than a few steps when they were stopped by the bartender. “Howdy, gents,” he greeted them cordially. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave those rifles on that table by the door.” When both men balked for a second, he continued. “I reckon you fellers ain’t ever been in here before. We ask every customer to do the same.” He smiled then to show he meant nothing personal.

Logan looked back toward the door. Like his brother, he hadn’t noticed the table with half a dozen pistols on it. “Sure,” he said, “seems like a good idea.” He and Billy went back and propped their rifles against the table and laid their pistols on top. Then they proceeded toward the table they had selected.

“What’s your poison?” Roy, the bartender, asked as they passed by the bar.

“Whiskey,” Billy answered. “Just whatever you got—rye, if I’ve got a choice.” Neither he nor Logan was a heavy drinker, so it really didn’t matter.

“I’ve got rye,” Roy said. “And I’ve also got some smooth Kentucky bourbon, if you’d rather have it.”

“Which is the cheapest?” Logan asked.

“Rye,” Roy said.

“Then we’ll have that, and two glasses of beer to chase it,” Logan said, and stopped to wait for it while Billy continued to the table.

“Well, here’s to another cattle drive behind us,” Logan said after they were seated. He raised his shot glass in a toast. Billy raised his glass to meet it, and they tossed the fiery whiskey down.

“Whew!” Billy coughed. “That stuff burns all the way down.”

Logan laughed. “It makes a difference when it’s been a long time between drinks.”

Working slowly on the beer, they looked around them at the sparse crowd in the saloon. Only three other tables were occupied. And of the three, only one had more than two men quietly enjoying an afternoon drink of whiskey. That table, back in a corner of the room, was occupied by three men and a woman. The two brothers had sat there for only a few minutes before the woman got up to take an empty bottle to the bar to exchange for a full one.

On her way past them, she openly eyed the two strangers, and on her way back, she favored Billy with a smile. It didn’t surprise Logan. His younger brother had been blessed with the good looks of his mother, while Logan seemed to have inherited the brawn and strength of his father. Though, at times, he wasn’t sure if Billy’s handsome features might better be called a curse. The thought had no sooner occurred to him than he began to hear a raising of the voices at the corner table.

He turned to Billy and asked, “You smiled back at her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I mighta,” Billy answered. “Why?”

Logan gave his younger brother a tired sigh. “That’s why,” he said when the conversation at the corner table suddenly escalated into a loud argument.

“You don’t own me!” the woman exclaimed indignantly, and rose to her feet.

“Set your ass back down!” one of the men demanded. “Countin’ all the whiskey you drank, I sure as hell made a down payment on you.” His remark brought a laugh from his two companions, who seemed to be enjoying the spat between the two.

“I’ll set my ass where I damn well please,” the woman replied. A large-framed, long-legged woman, with many miles etched into her not unpleasant face, she seemed capable of handling her rough company. “I’ve wasted enough time on you and your friends. You coulda got drunk without me, if that’s all you were interested in.”

“Set down!” the man demanded again, and grabbed her wrist.

Logan glanced at the bartender. Seeing that he was now aware of the potential trouble brewing at the corner table, Logan was satisfied that the bartender would handle the situation before it became violent. As he had figured, Roy walked back to the table where the woman was still standing defiantly before the three men.

“Hey, fellers,” he began, “ain’t no need to get your backs up. Gracie didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Right, Gracie?” Gracie didn’t answer. She just continued to glare at the belligerent bully holding her wrist. Since Gracie was obviously not inclined to apologize, Roy attempted to appease the quarrelsome brute. “Let her go and we’ll have the next round on the house. Whaddaya say?”

“I ain’t takin’ no sass from a broken-down old whore,” the bully replied. He looked back at the woman and said, “I told you to set down.” To enforce the order, he attempted to pull her down on the chair, but she fought against his efforts. The ensuing struggle knocked the chair over and landed Gracie on the floor, her wrist still captured in the brute’s hand.

“Mister,” Roy said. “I’m gonna have to ask you and your friends to leave now. I think you’ve had enough.”

Fully agitated at that point, the bully clamped down as tight as he could on the woman’s wrist while she strained to free herself. “I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave,” he roared, then threatened, “How’d you like it if I tore this whole damn place down?”

“Wouldn’t like it,” Roy replied.

To this point, the few other patrons of the saloon had watched in silence. Seeing that things had seemingly gotten out of hand, two of the men got up and made a hasty retreat out the door. “Damn,” Logan cursed softly when it became obvious that Roy’s efforts to defuse a situation already gone bad were not going to succeed, for Logan had no desire to get involved in the altercation. “You had to smile at her,” he said wearily aside to Billy.

“Hell, I didn’t know,” Billy replied lamely.

By now, Gracie was desperate to free herself from the brute’s clutches. When her struggles proved useless, she resorted to attacking his arm with her fingernails. “Yow!” her captor roared in pain, and struck her roughly with a backhand across her face.

That was as much as the Cross brothers could tolerate. Logan was the first to move. “That’s far enough,” he stated emphatically as he rose to his feet. “Billy, go over there by the door and take care of those weapons.” He walked over to the corner table to confront the troublemakers. “All right, the man here asked you politely to get outta his saloon. Now I’m tellin’ you that it’s time for you to turn the lady loose and do what he says.”

His statement was enough to cause the bully to release his hold on Gracie, but he got to his feet and kicked his chair back. “And just who do you think you are, big mouth?”

“I’m the feller who’s gonna whip your ass if you don’t get outta here like I said,” Logan said.

“Huh,” the brute snorted defiantly, “you gonna whip all three of us?”

“If I have to,” Logan replied calmly. His assessment of the trio told him that they all appeared too drunk to put up much of a fight—that, and the fact that the man’s two companions did not seem overly enthusiastic about joining in. And he was not discounting Billy’s help after his brother finished emptying all the cartridges out of the weapons on the table by the door.

“He’s talkin’ mighty big, ain’t he, boys?” the bully snarled with a sneer. “Let’s see if he can back it up.” He shoved Gracie’s chair aside and stepped out in front of the table, only then aware of the effect of the whiskey he had consumed. Spreading his feet wide in an effort to steady himself, he took a wild swing at Logan, missing by a mile.

Anticipating such a move, Logan ducked down and answered with a hard uppercut under the brute’s chin, which caused him to stagger backward onto the table. Woozy from the uppercut, he managed to push himself up from the table only to meet a hard right hand flush on his nose that drove him down on the floor. The back of his head banged against the edge of the table as he went down, knocking him senseless.

With his adversary flat on the floor, Logan turned to face the man’s companions. With a glance at the menacing figure before them, and another at his brother coming toward them now, carrying a rifle in each hand, their decision was simple. “We ain’t got no quarrel with you, mister. Jake’s the one with the problem.”

Logan, still in position to attack, took a step back. “Well, get Jake outta here, and go sober up.”

He took the Winchester Billy handed him and stood aside to give the two men room to drag their partner toward the door. Billy followed them and watched while one of the men settled up with the bartender. Then they picked up their empty guns and helped Jake outside. Billy remained in the doorway to make sure they got on their horses and left.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” Logan asked Gracie as she gingerly touched her cheek with her fingertips.

“Now, that’s gonna be a pretty bruise,” she complained, her face flushed with anger. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve had worse than that.” Realizing then that she owed him a word of thanks, she said, “I appreciate you and your friend stepping in to help me.” She managed a painful grin as she felt her face again and added, “It’da been even better if you’da stepped in a minute sooner.”

“Sorry,” Logan said.

“Least I can do is give you and your friend a free ride,” Gracie said.

“Well, now, that’s mighty sportin’ of you, ma’am,” Logan quickly replied. “And I’ve got to say that it’s a temptin’ thing to think about. But I’m here to meet a man about a job, so I’ll have to take care of that. I truly wanna thank you for the offer, though.”

“What about your friend?” Gracie asked, actually more interested in the tall, sandy-haired young man.

Logan smiled. “I reckon you’d have to ask him. He ain’t my friend, though. He’s my brother.”

“Oh,” Gracie responded. She shot another glance in Billy’s direction. Without thinking first, she blurted, “You sure you had the same daddy?”

Logan couldn’t help laughing. “You ain’t the first to ask me that.”

Roy, who had been standing there listening to the conversation between the husky stranger and the prostitute, was prompted to remark, “Gracie, you ain’t got a lick of sense.”

Realizing then how unkind her words must have sounded, she tried to make amends. “I hope you didn’t think I thought you weren’t handsome, too,” she sputtered, causing Logan to laugh again.

“Think nothin’ of it,” he said. “Billy always was the pretty one. I’m the one with the brains.”

Gracie turned her attention toward Billy, and Roy took the opportunity to thank Logan for ridding him of the three drifters. “You’d best be careful,” he warned. “They came in here a couple of days ago. I never saw ’em before that, and I just don’t like the look of ’em. That one you had the fight with especially. He looks like he’s just got a natural mean streak.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Logan said, “but I don’t plan to stay in town long enough to have another go-round with him.”

Two men seated at a table on the other side of the room got up from their chairs. They had sat, silently watching the altercation, waiting until the fight was over. One of them, a man of slightly more than average height and slender build, walked up to Logan. “Is your name Cross?” he asked.

Surprised, Logan said that it was. “Yes, sir, I’m Logan Cross.”

“I was pretty sure that you were. I’m Matt Morrison. Oscar Bradley said he’d send you over to talk to me about helpin’ me move some horses to Sturgis.”

“Yes, sir,” Logan said, somewhat taken by surprise, since Oscar had told him it would be an hour before he could expect to meet Morrison. “I’m sorry you had to see that little scrap we just had with those fellers. Me and Billy ain’t normally troublemakers.”

Morrison smiled. “To the contrary, seein’ how you handled that son of a bitch made me sure I wanted to hire you and your brother. Tell you the truth, I got here early so I could look you and your brother over before we talked.” He turned to a gray-haired man behind him. “This is Red Whaley. I reckon you’d call him my foreman. He’s been working for me for so long I don’t know what his job is.”

Red smiled at his boss’s attempt at humor. “Logan,” he said and extended his hand.

Billy joined them and the introductions were repeated. Morrison got down to business then and made his proposition. “I’ll pay you three dollars a day, each, for eight days’ work. It shouldn’t take longer than that to make the drive. Whaddaya say?”

“What about grub?” Logan asked.

“We ain’t got a chuck wagon,” Morrison said, “so you’ll provide your own grub.”

Logan glanced at Billy for his reaction, knowing already what it would be. Compared to their usual pay while working for Oscar Bradley, Morrison’s offer was almost a month’s pay for eight days’ work. And they would have to feed themselves whether they took the job or not. Since leaving Oscar’s employ, they were drifting anyway, so he said, “Looks like you’ve got yourself a couple of hands.”

“Good,” Morrison said. “Let’s sit down and have a drink on it and I’ll tell you all you need to know.” He went on to explain that he had come to Fort Pierre to pick up twenty horses, which he thought he and his two men could manage. But thanks to Oscar Bradley’s ridiculous offer, he found himself the owner of over twice that number. After examining the remuda, he decided the deal was too good to pass up, but he felt more comfortable with a little more help.

Before they had finished their drinks, Morrison’s other man joined them. “They’re all bunched up in that lower corral,” he said to Morrison as he walked up to the table. “We’ll be ready to push ’em out in the mornin’.”

“This here’s Percy Walker,” Morrison said. “Percy, say howdy to Logan and Billy Cross. They’re gonna help us take those horses home.”

“Glad to meet you, boys,” Percy said with a cordial grin. “I could handle ’em all by myself, but I’m always glad to have a little help.” He pulled a chair over from another table and pushed in beside Red. “Move over, old man, and pass me that bottle.”

“Why, I didn’t know you was a drinkin’ man,” Red joked. He looked at Logan and said, “Boss forgot to tell you that Percy’s so full of hot air and horse shit that we have to tie him down in the saddle to keep him from floatin’ off.” Red’s remark brought a chuckle from Percy. Logan and Billy could see right away that they were going to fit in just fine.

“Tell you what, fellers,” Morrison said, “meet us over at the hotel after you’ve got your supplies and possibles ready to ride, and I’ll spring for supper. About five o’clock, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” Billy said. “That suits me.” He winked at his brother, already thinking that by the end of this short drive, Morrison would possibly offer them permanent employment. Logan smiled and nodded.

“Well, I reckon we’ll see you at suppertime,” Logan said, getting to his feet. “Come on, Billy, we need to buy a little grub to take us to . . .” He paused to ask Morrison, “Where’d you say we were goin’?”

“Sturgis,” Morrison said.

“Right. Come on, Billy.” They left their three new partners and headed for the door.

“Much obliged,” Roy, the bartender, said as they passed by the bar. Both brothers nodded in reply.

With Billy following, Logan stepped out the door onto the small platform of planks that served as a porch. He paused to stretch his arms in an effort to ease a stiffness in his back, the result of his brief tussle with the brute called Jake, he supposed. His arms were stretched up over his head when he was suddenly knocked off his feet by a driving tackle by Billy that sent them both sprawling. A moment later, he heard the rifle shot that sent a slug whistling over their heads.

“Son of a . . . ,” he blurted, cocking his rifle as he rolled over behind the low porch. “You see him?”

“Up the street,” Billy exclaimed, “by the stables!”

It was pure luck that he had happened to glance in that direction, and his lightning-fast reflexes might have saved his brother. The bushwhacker had time for one more shot before both Billy and Logan were able to bring their rifles to bear on the corral, but he stepped behind the corner post in time to keep from being hit by the slugs that tore into it.

“He’s runnin’!” Billy cried when he got a glimpse of the shooter through the rails of the corral. Both men scrambled to their feet and ran across the street to take cover in the doorways of the few buildings between them and the stables, dodging the few people scurrying for safety.

Running from building to building, they made their way up the street as quickly as possible. While it had been impossible to identify their assailant in the short time Billy had to see him, there was little doubt who he was. They had to assume that Jake’s two friends were in on the attempt and would have to be dealt with as well.

When they reached the hotel, which was the last building before the stables, they stopped to decide how to proceed.

“Front or back?” Billy asked, for they figured the three had probably taken cover in the stables.

“I’ll take the front,” Logan said, thinking the gunmen would be expecting them to come in that way, and he preferred to take that risk. Giving Billy no time to argue, he said, “Let’s look out we don’t shoot each other!”

He took off at a sprint for the front door of the stables, his rifle cocked and ready to fire. Billy stepped out of the hotel doorway and ran down the alley between it and the stables.

None too anxious to go charging into the front door of the stables, Logan pulled up before the door and flattened himself against the wall. He hoped the three men had not had the opportunity to sober up. He had to assume they were still a little drunk to have taken a shot at him in broad daylight in the middle of town.

Without knowing where Billy was positioned, he eased up to the crack between the door and the frame and peeked in. In contrast to the bright sunlight outside, his eyes didn’t focus at once, but just in time to jerk his head back from the crack before a chunk of the door went flying. Two more shots ripped into the door before he heard Billy’s Winchester speak from the rear of the stables. Seconds after, he was surprised by the three men charging out of the stables at a gallop, lying low on their horses’ necks. Straight across the street they fled, between the harness shop and dry goods store, intent upon riding behind the stores for protection.

Knowing that he had time to knock at least one of the assassins out of the saddle, Logan pulled his rifle to his shoulder and took aim, but he did not pull the trigger. As he had rested the front sight on the departing rider, a woman with a small child suddenly appeared in the frame, causing him to hesitate. Terrified by the three horses suddenly charging toward her, she ran, pulling the child, across the alley, barely escaping a trampling under their hooves. At first alarmed that he had almost endangered the woman and her child, his next emotion was anger for the missed opportunity to dispose of one of the assailants who had sought to murder him. He was still standing there when Billy ran out of the stable.

“You all right?” Billy asked, relieved to see Logan standing there apparently unharmed. “I heard them shootin’ at you, and they were already on their horses by the time I crawled in a back window. I got off a couple of shots, but I don’t think I hit anybody. I didn’t have time to get in a good spot to shoot. I was worried about you, ’cause I didn’t think I heard you shoot.”

“I didn’t,” Logan said, then explained the circumstances that prevented him from taking a shot. “By the time the woman got out of the wa