The Outlaw

The bay's hooves plowed through drifts of knee-deep snow as Smoky McRaven kept him mercilessly at a gallop down the winding mountain trail south of Quantrell, Montana. Smoky ’s breath came as sharp as his mount’s as they leapt down several snow-covered drops detected by the sure footed mountain pony.

Born, raised, and broke in the mountains, the sturdy bay never missed a beat with his hooves, but all Smoky was thinking about was the cold, the pain in his side, and the four lawmen that were hot on his trail. To him the black mane of the driven bay blended with the gray and brown ones of the two mounts before this one. Spent early by hard-pushing through wind, snow, and bitter weather, they had stumble into lonely ranches and Smoky had taken the strongest looking piece of horseflesh from the rancher’s corral with his rope, hid behind a large snowfall, and stopped long enough to switch his gear before leaving his old mount to find his way back to the ranch or even maybe the ranch he was taken from.

But Smoky never spent a moment thinking about that. His whole cognizance was taken up with survival, and to survive he must evade or outdistance his pursuers.

In the mountains it was hard to tell where a sheriff’s jurisdiction ended, but no matter, he had escaped lawmen before. The only difference now was that he was alone. Without Uncle Loui to keep the gang together, they had scattered and he was supposed to have kept them together and met his uncle forty miles southeast of town. Failure weighed heavily on his shoulders, but somewhere where that failure didn’t reach, something akin to fear did.

Somewhere to the east and perhaps a little more south Uncle Loui was waiting for him—-and the gang. He could see disappointment in his uncle’s eyes already. This had been a trial to prove himself. He had been confident and well-planned, but none of that had prepared him for the bravery of the bank clerk. He had been so stubborn, so stupidly stubborn, Smoky had been forced to kill him. By then the town was alert and ready for them when they exited the bank.

Now he was plunging down the mountain to a sheltered area where he could climb down from the saddle and try to bandage his wound and get some rest before morning, when he would find Uncle Loui—-or at least, he hoped he would—desperately.

*************

A few stars appeared for the night was clear and cold. Smoky loosened himself from the saddle and fell to the ground stifling a cry of pain from his wound. Reaching up, he pulled some strips of cloth from his saddlebags and tore open his shirt to reveal a very bloody, ugly bullet wound. He knew he'd have to get the bullet out but if he could find Uncle Loui, his uncle would help him with that. And tomorrow he would find Uncle Loui. Just a few more mountains to descend and a jaunt eastward. He would make it—-he had to make it.

The bay stood panting; his legs shaking, waiting to be unsaddled and fed. Finally he began tearing pieces of bark from the tree the outlaw huddled under.

One thing Smoky had. He had the money and he hoped it would be enough to appease his uncle.

Pain made his insides flip, but weariness finally overtook the sick feeling and let him sleep.

***************

Dan Roebuck whistled softly. “Sheilah.” He took a couple steps. “Sheilah.”

A soft whine came from behind him. He turned around. “There y’ are girl. You did it again. How ’m I ever gonna find your lair?”

Grrr.

“I know. You don’t want me to find ‘em. But I want to ‘cause one o’ them pups is gonna be my best pal. So you go on ‘n’ take me to ‘em, y’ little wolf, so ’s I can fetch my daddy’s boy. Go on!” He spoke softly, cajoling, trying to reassure her he met no harm.

She approached him cautiously and sniffed his hands as if making sure he was the man who had sure enough saved her and raised her up. Then, at length, she trotted north, and he followed.

All at once she stopped. growled low in her throat, and pointed her ears toward a pile of snow chunks broken from the mountain top in last night’s avalanche.

Grrr. She growled again. Slowly he approached her.

“Now what could you be smellin’ underneath that pile o’ snow.” He started moving chunks of snow and digging with his hands until he’d created a hole in the pile. To the side of the hole was a piece of a thick brown cloth. It looked like a jacket and when he touched it he felt the form of a body beneath.

“Golly, Sheilah. There’s a man here. He must nigh be suffocated if ’n he ain’t dead!”

He jerked and pulled the wet body from beneath the snow.

“Still warm. Prob'ly the snow kep’ it that way.”

Sheilah just backed up and watched. Suddenly she growled again.

“What!” Beneath the snow next to where the body had lain was a brown horse with tack a mess, but still breathing through a hole in the pile.

“As I live and breathe, Sheilah, I better go get my shovel. And just when you were gonna show me yer pups too.”

************

The fire in the wood stove was going strong and Buck had the boy’s clothes hanging in front of it. As it turned out, the victim of the avalanche was just old enough to have some facial hair. He was dirty too!

Buck started boiling some water on the stove to fill the round tub in the corner of his cabin. He figured the warmth of the fire would soon awaken the boy, for he had pulled his cot close to the wood stove, and when he awoke he would have a nice warm bath. In the meantime Buck would fix him some beef broth to strengthen his bones and warm his insides.

His eyes opened slowly, then he blinked, probably taking in such a drastic change with at least some confusion.

“You’re awake.” Buck let him look him over before continuing, “I’ve got some bath water ready for you. You can jump in with or without your long johns. Just make sure you scrub good. Your bar of soap-”

“Wait a minute here!” The boy tried to rise up but only managed a slouch. He coughed.

“Your bar of soap is on the floor near the tub.”

The boy started to protest.

“And, when you get done yer gonna have some nice warm beef broth.” He turned to face the stove, stirring the pot.

“No. You can’t tell me what I have to do. I didn’t ask you to care for me.”

“Oh, and your horse is well-cared for too, but he’s pretty weak. You had that cinch awful tight, boy.”

“It wasn’t supposed to fall off.”

“Your tack’s been oiled too. I brought it in and did it while I waited for the fire to get hot.”

“What about my saddlebags?” The boy sounded nervous.

“There weren’t no saddlebags that I saw.”

“What?”

“No saddlebags.”

“But-”

“The soap smells good, and yer ha’f starved body prob'ly will thank you for this soup.”

**************

When Smoky was well enough to walk around, the grizzly ol’ trapper took him to see his horse. He really couldn’t care less what happened to the bay. It wasn’t even his. Where were his saddlebags? The money? Uncle Loui?

“Come in here and take a good look at your horse, kid, ‘n’ quit frettin’ about them saddlebags.”

“Don’t call me kid!”

“Well, what do I call you?”

“My name’s Smoky. That’s good enough for you.”

“Okay. Smoky, you can call me Buck.”

“That works.” Reluctantly, Smoky entered the stall.

**************

“I’m leavin’ to check my trap-lines. You can do what you like, Smoky, but I do recommend looking in on your horse.”

“He’s not mine!”

Buck’s face showed no surprise. “You should still look in on ‘im.”

As he left, he pondered the kid. “He’s an outlaw ‘n’ I know it. There’s money in those saddlebags but he can’t find ‘em. I’m assuming they’re somewhere under that avalanche, but I want him to learn a little bit about right ‘n’ wrong afore I tell him. As of yet, he doesn’t know how I found him. ‘Cause I think he still has a conscience and given the opportunity, he may find that out. This could be his opportunity, Sheilah.”

The she- wolf whined as if in agreement.

When he got to his trap lines, an unnatural sound brought his head up, eyes searching, ears listening. Every sense keyed to its utmost. He glanced at Sheilah for she would know what it was long before he did. Her ears were perked forward and every muscle in her body quivered. Not from fear, but from readiness to act instantly. Grrrrr . . . A low growl rumbled in her throat.

He heard it again, and this time he knew what it was. Hoof-beats. Very far away but undoubtedly coming fast- in his direction.

When the riders passed he was on his third trap. He watched them go by as he reset the trap and rubbed it with castoreum. Suddenly one of them said something and they turned sharply around, trotting toward him. After they halted their horses, he stood up to face them.

The one in front wore a sheriff’s badge, the other three were deputies. “I’m the sheriff of Quantrell. We’re down here in search of an outlaw and $40,000. We caught the rest of the gang but all testified that he was the leader and had the loot. We don’t have much of a description but have you seen any suspicious activity around here?”

“Not really. More like unusual inactivity.”

“What was that?”

Buck related his story about helping the kid.

“Where is he now?”

Buck groaned inwardly. “Exactly? Or just approximately?”

“As close as you can get.”

“East about two miles.”

“Much obliged.” They wheeled their horses and headed off in that direction.

Buck finished checking his trap-line and headed back. Smoky met him at the door.

“Did you see them?”

Buck nodded.

“Did they talk to you?”

Another nod.

“What ’d you say?”

“They asked if I’d seen you. I answered.”

“You sent ‘em right to me!-”

“I didn’t have much choice. They said tell us where he’s at as close as you can get. So I said go two miles east.”

“Why didn’t you send ‘em elsewhere?”

“I couldn’t do that.”

Smoky was fuming. “You-you betrayed me! Never saw any saddlebags? You took my saddlebags and the money, ‘n’ that’s how you knew the law would be after me. So you went out specially to check your trap-lines in case they was ridin’ by. You thought you had me, but you forgot how well you hid your cabin.” He was panting when he stopped. Then he said quietly, “I thought- I thought maybe you were different. But you’re not.”

Buck stepped up to the young man. " Two things I don’t do. I don’t lie and I don’t steal. You’d best get that straight. But I do believe in giving a man a chance, ‘specially when he’s still got a conscience.” With that Buck left the house and went to the barn to skin his catch and feed the horses, his own and the bay.

Smoky sank down into a chair and stared at the closed door. Something inside him was tugging, nagging, pulling his insides apart. He could see the saddlebags clearly in his mind. Bulging with stolen money. Then the face of the bank clerk flashed through his mind as he put a bullet through his skull.

He fingered the gun on his side. Why hadn’t Buck taken it from him? Was he telling the truth or just a really good fake? Buck fake? Smoky wondered if he could. But appearances can be very deceiving. And what about Uncle Loui?

Smokey got up and walked out to the barn. Buck was skinning a mink when he entered. There was silence a while, then Buck said, “The bay’s doin’ better. Wanna take a look?”

“No.”

More silence.

“Gonna turn yourself in?”

“Hwhat?”

“I said y’-”

Smoky was gone.

**************

Weeks turned into months and Smoky learned. He learned to trap the country and love the land. He began to enjoy living life like Buck did. And he learned how to take proper care of a horse. The bay, though stolen, became his friend. But what he really wanted to learn he couldn’t figure out. What was bothering him?

Spring came and with it a slightly different lifestyle. But they still trapped, and Buck was still the carefree woodsman Smoky wished he could be. But something inside him wouldn’t let him rest. Why not? Perhaps he knew why not.

One day, what Smoky used to long for but for some reason became to dread, came to the cabin.

Buck opened the door. “Smoky! There’s somebody outside, wants to talk to you!”

Smoky emerged from the cabin to see Uncle Loui riding atop a weary dapple gray.

“What happened, boy? I thought you died.”

“I almost did.”

There was silence for a moment and Loui glanced at the trapper. “Ready to rejoin us?”

“I like it here.”

“Aw, but you Uncle Loui raised you, boy. Don’t you wanna come back with me ‘n’ the boys.” He gestured to the mounted outlaws behind him.

“No I-I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t think you can?”

Smoky shook his head.

Seeing that his mind was made up, Loui said, “Alright, but you owe us our share of the money.”

“I lost it.”

“You lost it!”

“In an avalanche.”

Loui looked around at the tall mountains. It was possible. “I don’t believe you.”

Buck jumped in his face. Even mounted Loui looked like a midget under Buck’s authority. “You’ve said enough. Get outta here.”

Loui scowled at him, then wheeled his horse and said, “Come on, boys. One less split.”

After he left, Smoky headed for the barn and saddled the bay. As he rode past Buck he stopped. “Thanks.”

“Quantrell?”

He nodded. “But if I return, I hope to own this horse.”

“You’ve got a chance.” He handed up the saddlebags full of money. “Found ‘em two weeks ago when the snow cleared. Maybe they’ll drop the charges.”

Maybe. Thanks.”

Buck nodded. “So long.”

“So long.”