You Killed My Daddy

Casper, Wyoming

1891

Buck Brumley takes a long pull off his whiskey glass. “I wanted to run away, but I didn’t have any money, so I’d stay anywhere folks in town would let me. After a few days, I’d go home and face my daddy’s wrath. One time, Cade caught me sleepin’ in his brother’s livery stable. Despite him bein’ well off and educated, and me bein’ poor and stupid, we hit it off. Cade got me a job at the stable. I kept needlin’ him that he was too young to be so serious, that we should be fourteen-year-old pirates and go off on adventures together. Of course, my daddy wouldn’t have it. Then he was gone, and Cade told his brothers he was goin’ out on his own with me. Me and Cade rode the rails, lived like city slickers, sold cure-all tonics, and traveled with wagon trains and cattle drives for years. We ended up busted in Casper lookin’ for work.”

“And now that you’ve put down roots, when are you gonna make me an honest woman, Buck?” Starla Stapp asks.

Buck looks into Starla’s dull grey eyes, taking her hand. With her bulbous nose, crooked teeth, and pasty complexion, Starla is no beauty, but her feisty frontier toughness appeals to Buck.

Sitting across the table, twenty-eight-year-old Cade York winks at Kitty, his wife of two years. Six feet tall and well-dressed, with light blue eyes and sandy hair, Cade’s striking appearance is matched by the blonde twenty-one-year-old former showgirl’s beauty.

“Well, don’t leave Starla hangin’,” Cotton Cannon, the owner of the Four Winds Ranch teases. “There’s nothin’ like the love of a good woman.” Looking at Phoebe, his plump wife of thirty years, the robust owner runs his finger across his handlebar mustache adding, “I’ll let you know when I find one.”

Phoebe playfully smacks Cotton on his shoulder.

“You can have the weddin’ celebration at the ranch,” Cotton says, cutting into his steak. “And as our present, you can stop livin’ in the bunkhouse and build a house on that piece of land you’ve had your eye on near Cade’s house.”

“Neighbors?” Cade scoffs. “I can’t see restless Buck pulling up in a wagon with his two boys to borrow a pitcher of milk.”

Starla rubs Buck’s shoulder. “I can.”

The short, red-haired, scruffy cowboy with a love for buckskins looks away, blushing.

The group’s laughter is tempered when the three McHenry brothers enter the restaurant. The youngest, seventeen-year-old Henry, wipes his bifocal glasses, following behind his brutish twin brothers, Hardin and Hoke.

The twins pause to stare at Cotton and his two hands.

“They get uglier every time I see ‘em,” Buck says, eliciting laughter from the others.

“Except Henry. He’s not addle-minded. He takes after his mother,” Phoebe declares.

Turning to Cade, Buck says, “I heard you gave Henry money for college. You feel guilty about Cousin Hardy? Why are you helpin’ that prissy little whelp?”

“He’s got potential. I don’t want him to end up rustling cows for a living like those other two dullards.”

Buck snorts disapprovingly. “Well, I’m life smart, and I don’t see you sponsorin’ me for nothin’.”

“Stop bein’ so jealous, Buck,” Starla teases.

Looking at the scowling, sunbaked, broad-shouldered twin’s ruddy features, Kitty says, “They’re so hard to tell apart.”

“Hardin’s still got that scar on his cheek,” Cade says. “He won’t say where he got it from because it could mean the rope, but I gave it to him when he tried to bushwhack me after I shot Hardy.”

“You suppose that’s why they’re starin’ at us like twin statues the birds just done their business on?” Starla asks.

“It’s been more than a year since you shot Hardy,” Cotton notes.

“Elephants don’t forget, and neither do McHenrys, but I understand their anger,” Cade says. “I’m the one who found their cousin guarding one of Cotton’s beeves. I looked him in the eye, and I knew he didn’t steal that cow.”

Buck cocks an eye at Cade. “Then why’d he draw on ya?”

“Fear, because every man with a gun is afraid to use it. And pride. He wanted to be the man who killed Cade York.”

Hoke whispers, “We can take ‘em, Hardin. The only one we gotta worry about is York.”

“The same man who ventilated cousin Hardy,” Henry reminds his brothers.

Hardin rubs his scar. “You takin’ his side? You been followin’ York around like a lovesick puppy ever since he killed Hardy.”

“I’m not going to turn my back on anybody who can help me achieve my goal of becoming an architect.”

“Sakes alive, you can really tell you got a different mama from us when you open that bazoo of yours,” Hoke says.

“Look, you’re still my brothers, and I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Henry replies. “This is a place of business. You start shooting in here and innocent people will get hurt. Then you’ll really be in trouble. Besides, you don’t want to look like the aggressors.”

“I don’t know exactly what an aggressor is, boy, but I savvy,” Hardin answers.

The three brothers file into the barroom.

“Anybody want dessert?” Cotton asks.

“I’ve kinda lost my taste for it,” Cade admits. Turning to Buck, he says, “Are you staying in town?”

“Gonna stay at my sweeties’ place,” Buck replies, winking at Starla.

“Stay clear of the McHenrys.”

Buck gives Cade a tobacco-stained smile. “They ain’t after me. They wanna kill you.”

“And they’ll hurt you or Starla to get to me.”

Buck lets loose another devil-may-care smile.

“Balderdash. I’ll just tell ‘em we ain’t friends no more.”

Hayward “Hay” Bale watches Buck brush down his horse, Belle.

“That comes with the price to board her. I already brushed her.”

“I know, Hay and you done a fair to middlin’ job. But I’ve had Belle for eight years. She’s like a wife to me.”

Hay pulls out a corncob pipe. Filling it with tobacco, he lights it. “You can marry Starla, Buck. T’aint legal in Wyoming to have relations with your horse.”

“You should be an entertainer instead of runnin’ a livery, Hay.”

“I do my best.”

Buck takes a bottle out of his saddle bag. He puts some of the contents on a rag. Belle licks at the rag.

“What’s that stuff?”

“My own concoction. It kills bugs.”

Buck takes a long gulp from the bottle. “It’s mostly alcohol.”

“I think you missed your callin’, Buck. You shoulda been a veterinarian. I knew you liked horses, but I didn’t know you liked horses this much.”

“They’re a lot better than people.”

Exiting Mrs. O’Keefe’s Dress Shoppe, Starla finds her path blocked by Hardin and Hoke McHenry.

Hardin grabs her by the arm. “Looky here, brother. Starla the strumpet’s become a regular lady.”

“I bet her urges ain’t changed,” Hoke replies, licking his lips.

“I ain’t that way no more, fellas. I’m civilized now. I’m gettin’ married.”

“To that lily-livered buckskin blowhard?” Hardin asks, squeezing her arm tightly. “He thinks he can be like Cade York, but no coward who hides behind his friend’s gun can be his own man.”

“Besides, you gotta compete with that nag of his,” Hoke says. “You don’t wanna come in second to a horse.”

“Come with us. We’ll put a roof over your head and beans in your belly.”

“And you’ll have the lovin’ of not one husband, but two,” Hoke adds.

“I told you the last time you suggested it, the law says it ain’t right.”

Hardin pulls Starla against his chest. “This time we ain't suggestin’.”

Hardin pushes Starla into a nearby alley. Checking to see if anyone is watching, Hoke follows.

Buck pounds down another drink, his eyes fixated on the end of the bar where Hardin and Hoke are laughing and patting each other on the back.

“She’s going to be all right,” Cade says. “You need to leave this alone.”

“Leave it alone? What would you do if those two clodhoppers beat Kitty within an inch of her life? The Doc says Starla may never be able to have kids. Would you just stand here and take it?”

“Keep in mind you’re a lousy shot, Buck.”

“There’s two of us and two of them,” Buck slurs.

“And if you shoot first, it’s murder.”

The McHenry brothers amble toward the door, detouring in Buck and Cade’s direction.

Buck puts his hand on his revolver. Cade quickly covers his hand.

Reaching into his vest pocket, Hardin pulls out a tarnished silver dollar.

He tosses the coin on the bar in front of Buck.

“Give this to Starla. She earned it.”

Giving Buck snaggle-toothed grins, the twins leave, their bestial laughter following them out.

Before Cade can grab him, Buck pulls his gun, rushing out into the darkened street.

“THROW DOWN, YOU DEADBEAT REDNECKS!”

Standing near their horses, Hardin and Hoke fire at the approaching shadow.

Buck is hit in the head. Whimpering, he pitches forward into the dirt.

Standing in the saloon’s doorway, Cade fires at Hoke. The bullet shatters Hoke’s jaw, exiting out the back of his skull.

Hiding behind his horse, Hardin fires at Cade.

“Got you this time, slick. Gonna scar you good like you marked me!”

The bullet lodges in the rail near Cade’s hip.

Vaulting into his saddle, Hardin fires two departing shots at Cade. The bullets pass through the saloon’s batwing doors behind him.

Kicking his horse in its haunches, Hardin speeds toward the edge of town.

Taking aim, Cade fires at Hardin. His bullet strikes Hardin at the base of his skull, spiraling out of his mouth. Hardin falls out of his saddle and into the dirt as his horse continues its mad dash out of town.

Sitting up on the couch, Buck groans as he tries to put his hat on over his bandage.

“Where are you going, pard?” Cade asks.

“I’m gonna kill the man who killed my daddy,” Buck mutters.

“That was taken care of a long time ago,” Cade replies.

Buck scans the elaborately decorated room. “Where am I?”

“Cotton’s house, in his parlor. You’re lucky your head is so hard. The bullet only grazed you.”

“Did you get ‘em for me?”

“Yes.”

“You been protectin’ me since we was kids. How can I repay ya?”

“By getting well. I’m getting tired of breaking Cotton’s horses by myself.”

“Speakin’ of horses…”

“Belle is in the stable,” Cade replies. Hesitating, he says sympathetically, “She’s dying, you know.”

“We’re all dyin’.”

“I’ll take care of her.”

“You leave her alone. She’s the only thing I got in this world that’s mine, the only thing I didn’t steal, or you didn’t give me.”

“She’s only got a couple of days, and they’ll be painful ones.”

“I ain’t gonna shoot her,” Buck says adamantly. “I ain’t my daddy. Just ‘cause I wanted to see the McHenrys dead, that don’t mean I believe in murder.”

“It’d be mercy.”

Buck locks eyes with Cade. “You feel like eatin’ lead over what’s mine?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as your hands stop shaking.”

Buck stands with his arms crossed, a worn bible in his hand, looking down at Belle.

Cade, Kitty, Cotton, and Phoebe move to the gravesite. The men remove their hats.

“Where’s Starla?” Cade whispers.

“Still in town,” Kitty replies. “She’s recovered well enough. She could have come, but she’s using her condition to avoid this circus.”

“I think the engagement’s off too,” Phoebe adds.

“Does Buck know?” Cotton asks.

“I take it by everyone’s silence, the answer is no,” Cade says. “Let’s make sure we don’t mention it, okay? Buck’s still fragile.”

“Yeah, in the head,” Kitty says softly. “This is ridiculous. A funeral for a horse?”

“I’ve got a meeting with the Women’s League in town,” Phoebe adds. “Is this charade going to take much longer?”

“It might help him get his mind right,” Cotton replies. “Besides, me and Cade broke our backs digging a hole for this brown nag. So, the least you girls can do is stand here and fake sympathy like me and Cade.”

The two couples give Buck their toothiest grins.

Dressed in black buckskins for the occasion, Buck raises his head.

“Me and the Lord ain’t had much to say to each other durin’ my lifetime, but I wanna do this right for Belle, ‘cause unlike me, she ain’t never harmed nobody or sinned… This passage is from Ecclesiastes 3:19… ‘For what happens to the children of man and what happens to the beasts is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts, for all is vanity’… You was a good companion, Belle…”

Looking at Cade, Buck adds, “...Maybe the truest I ever had. I’ll always love you and miss you.”

Buck turns to his side. “You got anything to say, Daddy?”

Buck’s head begins to throb as he heaves a sack of onions into the buckboard.

“…What in tarnation... Maybe two weeks on Cotton’s couch weren’t enough.”

Grabbing the buckboard for support, Buck shakes his head until his vision clears.

Buck spots Henry McHenry walking toward the train station.

“You! Hey, you, you prissy whelp!”

Henry turns around, pushing his glasses off the end of his nose.

“YOU KILLED MY DADDY!”

Taking in Buck’s maniacal grin, Henry drops his suitcase, running frantically.

Drawing his gun, Buck takes shaky aim at Henry.

Buck’s bullet hits Henry in the back of the leg, dropping him to the ground.

Writhing in pain, Henry looks up to see Buck standing over him, pointing a gun at his head.

“YOU KILLED MY DADDY!’

“Please… I…I had nothing to do with your father’s death. Ask Cade, he’ll tell you. He’s paying for me to go to college. He’s helping me be somebody. Listen to your friend!”

“I ain’t got no friends,” Buck says, pulling the trigger.

Stripping off his clothes, Buck dips his fingers in Henry’s blood, painting his face and body.

Searching through his buckskin jacket, Buck pulls out a knife, scalping Henry.

The townspeople gather, gasping in shock as Buck dances around Henry’s body holding his scalp in his hand.

Marshal Grover Chase pulls back the sheet covering Henry’s body.

After thirty years of taming lawless territories, the slim, grey-haired, fifty-four-year-old accepted the Marshal’s job in Casper because he was confident it was a peaceful town. He is having second thoughts.

“One of the witnesses said Buck yelled at Henry that he killed his daddy.”

“His father used to hurt Buck in one way or another every day. Looks like he still is.”

“We’ve got to find him,” Marshal Chase says. “I don’t want him dancin’ over somebody else’s corpse.”

“I know where he is.”

Cade leads Marshal Chase to the livery stable.

The pair pause in the doorway. Marshal Chase checks Hay Bale’s gaping chest wound, noting his still-smoldering corn cob pipe lies just out of his reach.

Buck is near the rear of the stable brushing a brown horse.

“We come a long way, ain’t we?”

“You talking to me or the horse?” Cade asks.

Buck steps out of the stall to face the two men, his body smeared with blood.

Cade and Marshal Chase notice that apart from Hay’s gun belt, Buck is still naked.

“We had some good times, Cade. I’ll never forget the day you drew an ace against King Kleinman. Cade York beats the king of the gamblers! But that’s the problem, ain’t it, Cade?”

“What is, Buck?”

“It was always about you. Cade wins the sharp shootin’ contest. Cade gets his name in the paper for stoppin’ a holdup. What did I get? I got beat. I stayed in the barn with the horses while you were in the house with the bank manager’s pretty daughter. I got whatever was left over.”

“You benefitted from my success.”

“But you never suffered when things went bad. I did. I got hit with buckshot while you snuck out of the window of the bank manager’s daughter’s bedroom,” Buck cries out. “The doctor slapped me on my bottom when I was born, and then my daddy took over. He beat me till the day he died. And when he wasn’t beatin’ me, he was hittin’ my mom. He beat her to death, scalped her, and tossed her in the pen with the hogs.”

“Apple don’t fall far from the tree,” Marshal Chase says. “Not that I wanna see you nekid, Buck, but I want you to drop that holster to the ground.”

“I gotta settle with my friend first. You took everything from me, Cade, and left me with a secondhand life. You killed my daddy!”

“…Don’t, Buck…”

Buck reaches for his gun. Cade fires first, hitting Buck between the eyes. He falls backward, his body landing near the horse.

“He wanted me to do that,” Cade says somberly.

“You did everyone in Casper a favor. Buck wasn’t going to stop until he killed the man who killed his father.”

“I killed him.”

“You?”

“Buck’s spent his whole life trying to impress his father. That man could scare the devil. Buck never got so much as a smile from him. All he ever got was beaten and whipped. When we were fourteen, Buck finally snapped. He fought back. He punched his father, knocking him off his feet. It was the only time I ever saw his father smile, the only time he ever complimented Buck. He said, ‘Good, son. This is what life is all about,’ then came at Buck with a knife. He stabbed Buck twice in the chest before I shot him. But Buck never understood that his life didn’t have to revolve around pain and cruelty. And he always resented me for killing his father just when he’d finally got his approval.”