The Dawn of Fury Read online

  There was an almost immediate thud of boots on the porch, and Nathan swept past the startled storekeeper, seeking a back door. He found it and hit the ground running. He had but one chance, and that was to reach his horse. He reached one corner of the building, only to be spotted by two men who came after him with rifles. He ran to the opposite corner, only to face a third man coming after him with a scattergun. Nathan drew back, pulling his Colt, and as the startled man rounded the corner, Nathan seized the front of his shirt with his left hand and slugged him senseless with the muzzle of the Colt. By then the rifle-wielding pair had rounded the opposite corner of the building.

  “By God,” one of them bawled, “he’s kilt Jake. Shoot the skunk.”

  Lead tore into the weathered wood of the store building, but Nathan was already around the corner, running for his horse. As he rounded the end of the porch nearest his horse, three men burst out the door. The mules and wagon stood between them and Nathan’s horse, but one man in his eagerness leaped over the hitch rail. He screamed when a snarling Cotton Blossom ripped out the seat of his trousers. Nathan was in the saddle and the black horse was on the run when the other two men rounded the rear of the wagon. The big black ran them down. Slugs burned the air over Nathan’s head like angry bees, but he was soon out of range, riding back the way he had come. He slowed the black, looking back, and there was Cotton Blossom trotting along behind.

  “Pardner,” Nathan said, “you think fast and act faster. That’s what it takes to stay alive. I reckon the varmint that owned his horse was through here. Whatever he done, he got on the bad side of these folks. I don’t think they aimed for me to have a trial. Question is, how many other towns has he passed through, where we’re likely to get this same unsociable treatment?”

  Nathan circled wide, riding west, toward the mountains. He kept to the terrain where tracking would be difficult, should anybody be so inclined. When he was sure he was well past the village, he again rode southwest. Another day and he believed he could ride due west and cross into Kentucky. He and Cotton Blossom made camp beside a creek and finished the bacon. There would be only coffee for breakfast unless he took the time to boil some of the beans. He sat hunched over a small fire, gloomily contemplating his narrow escape. How was he to track down the seven men he sought while in constant danger of being gunned down for the misdeeds of the dead man whose horse he rode? The obvious answer was to dispose of the horse, but how? He had no bill of sale, and a man could be hanged as readily for horse stealing as for murder. He could keep the horse, facing the consequences as they arose, or he could continue his journey afoot. It didn’t take him long to make his decision.

  “Damn it,” he said aloud, “this horse is mine. If the gent that owned him ahead of me owed some shootin’ debts, then I reckon I’ll have to pay ’em.”

  He let the fire burn low, with just enough coals to keep the coffee hot. He then took the .44 caliber Army Colt and began what would become a ritual. Time after time he drew the weapon, “dry firing” it, getting the feel of it. He would perfect his skill until he could shoot accurately while falling, on his back, belly down, or on his feet. He had always been as adept with one hand as the other, and he border-shifted the weapon from one hand to the other for almost two hours. Weary, he rolled in his blankets and slept until first light. Having neither the time nor the taste for boiled beans, he made coffee and made do.

  “Sorry, Cotton Blossom,” he said to the hound. “Maybe we can lay our hands on some grub today without gettin’ shot to doll rags.”

  Nathan made a decision. He would avoid the towns in southern Virginia and wait until he reached Kentucky before seeking to buy food. There was a chance that the former owner of the black horse had ridden in from the south, perhaps from Knoxville. That being the case, Nathan could ride west without fear of the horse being recognized, and without having to shoot his way out of hostile towns in which the dead outlaw had done God knew what. He saddled the black and rode southwest, keeping to the foothills. There was a cold wind out of the west, and riding it came an ominous mass of gray clouds. Three hours into the day, the snow began. At first it was fine and gritty, with a mix of sleet, but the flakes grew larger and the accumulation began. Nathan reined up and Cotton Blossom sat in the deepening snow, watching him.

  “Pardner,” Nathan said, “grub or not, we’ll have to find us a place to hole up. It’s gettin’ colder by the minute, and come dark, it’ll be downright uncomfortable.”

  Nathan rode on, heading west now, and with the snowfall becoming heavier, he almost didn’t see the barn. Blowing snow had covered the shake roof and had whitened the log walls. If there were a barn, there should be a cabin, but through the blowing snow, he could see nothing. He lifted a wooden latch and opened the door enough to allow the black horse to enter. Cotton Blossom followed, and Nathan closed the door. He waited, allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom, and then went looking for an empty stall for the black. There were other animals in the barn, for he could hear them. A cow lowed once. Finding an empty stall, he led the black in, closing the slatted gate behind the animal. Quickly he found the ladder to the hayloft, and found the loft full of hay. His eyes were used to the gloom now, and finding a hay fork, he pitched some hay down into the black’s manger. Cotton Blossom growled low.

  “I’m up here, pardner,” said Nathan. “Find yourself a soft place and keep watch.”

  Nathan dug into the soft hay, and out of the wind, was soon asleep. He was awakened by the ominous growling of Cotton Blossom, followed by a calm voice.

  “Back off, feller. I ain’t begrudgin’ you shelter from the storm. And you up there in the loft, make yourself to home. Just one thing. Would you fork down some hay, so’s I can milk this ornery old cow?”

  “I’d be glad to,” Nathan said, since he had no choice. “I’d have asked permission to take shelter in your barn, but it was snowing so hard, I had no idea where your house was.” He forked hay into the manger in the cow’s stall.

  “You done the sensible thing,” said the voice below. “It’s likely to snow all night. We ain’t had a bad one yet, and we’re overdue. I’m thinking it’ll be almighty cold by morning. When I’m done milking, you’re welcome to come to the house for supper. I’m Isaac Wright. There’s just me, my wife Jenny, and our grandaughter Daisy.”

  “I’d be obliged,” Nathan said. “I’m half starved. I’m armed, but friendly, and I’m coming down. I’m Nathan Stone, and that’s Cotton Blossom doing the growling.”

  “Come on down, then,” said Wright. “I won’t be long. My hands are already near froze.”

  When Wright had finished milking, Nathan followed his host through the swirling snow to the house. Cotton Blossom plodded along behind. Reaching the back porch, the men stomped the snow off their feet and Wright swung the door open. There was a delicious warmth, a smell of cooking food, and hot coffee.

  “Jenny,” Wright said, “we have company for supper. Nathan Stone and his dog, Cotton Blossom.”

  “Come on in,” said Jenny. “Supper’s ready. Cotton Blossom can sleep next to the stove, and there’s a bed in the loft for Mr. Stone.”

  Nathan had trouble getting Cotton Blossom into the kitchen, but the food was more than he could resist and his belly led him on. Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. In the light from a coal oil lamp, he found Isaac and Jenny Wright as kindly a pair as he’d ever laid eyes on. The last of Cotton Blossom’s suspicions vanished when Jenny set before him a bountiful bowl of food. Isaac allowed Nathan first use of the wash pan and towel, and when both men had taken their places at the table, Jenny began bringing in the food. There was ham, fried chicken, boiled potatoes, cornbread, and brown gravy. Isaac and Nathan sat on a bench on one side of the table, while Jenny sat on a bench on the opposite side.

  “Daisy,” Isaac shouted, “supper.”

  “Go ahead and eat, Mr. Stone,” said Jenny. “She’ll take her own sweet time gettin’ here.”

  When Daisy took her place beside
Jenny and was introduced to Nathan, she said nothing, but her eyes were on him throughout the rest of the meal. When Isaac and Jenny left the table, the girl spoke to Nathan for the first time.

  “When you leave here,” she said, “I’m going with you.”

  Chapter 2

  Startled as he was by the girl’s bold manner, Nathan continued eating, saying nothing. She eyed him boldly, without shame, and he forced himself to look at her. She was attractive enough, but not a day over fifteen, if he was any judge. As inviting as the bed in the loft sounded, Nathan decided that he didn’t want to spend the night in that house. But before he had finished his supper, Isaac was offering to show him to the loft.

  “Reckon you must be pretty well give out,” said his host, “and there ain’t nothin’ to do ’cept set here and look at us, once you’ve et.”

  “You’ve fed me and my dog,” Nathan said, “and that’s all I have a right to expect. While I appreciate your generosity, I’d honestly feel better if I slept in the hay loft. I aim to get an early start in the morning.”

  “That won’t bother us,” said Jenny. “Isaac has to milk the cow, and he’ll be up two hours before daylight. Besides, I won’t have you taking the trail without a decent breakfast and somethin’ to eat along the way.”

  There was no way out of accepting their hospitality, and as Nathan got up from the table, there was something akin to triumph in Daisy’s dark eyes. Isaac led the way up the stairs, carrying the lamp. Nathan followed, Cotton Blossom padding along behind. When they reached the loft, there was room to stand only where the roof peaked. It wasn’t all that warm, but comparing it to the barn, Nathan could appreciate the difference. The bunk was crude and homemade, but there were plenty of blankets.

  “Won’t be nobody up here but you and your dog,” Isaac said. “Rest of us will be downstairs. When you’re ready, just come on down. I’ll be up with a breakfast fire goin’.”

  Even with all the blankets and the luxury of a roof over his head, Nathan removed only his boots, his hat, and his gun belt. The Colt he placed under his pillow. Cotton Blossom had curled up on the faded old handmade rug that covered the floor. There were no windows and no door. Nathan’s bunk faced the open stairs. Tired as he was, he lay awake he knew not how long before he finally slept. It seemed only minutes until he was awakened by a low growl of warning from Cotton Blossom. Somebody was coming up the stairs. Nathan sat up, drawing the Colt from beneath his pillow. When Daisy appeared at the head of the stairs, a lighted candle in her hand, Nathan was struck dumb. The girl was stark naked, and even in the drafty loft by the light of a flickering candle, she left nothing to the imagination. She spoke softly.

  “I want to go with you when you leave here, but I don’t expect you to take me along for nothing. There’s only this way that I can pay you.”

  “You don’t have to pay me,” Nathan said, “because you’re not going with me. Now please get out of here. I want no trouble.”

  “Then take me with you, else I’ll scream.”

  “Then scream, damn it,” said Nathan angrily. “I haven’t laid a hand on you, and I don’t aim to.”

  “I’ll tell the old man you had your way with me,” the girl said exultantly. “You think he’ll take your word over mine, with me standing here naked right in front of you?”

  “I think he will,” Isaac said, as he silently mounted the stairs in his bare feet. He took the candle from Daisy with his left hand, and in his right he held a razor strap by its metal hook. He swung the strap, swatting the girl across the bare behind. She screamed, fell to her knees, and tried to get under Nathan’s bunk. Cotton Blossom snarled and she backed away. Isaac allowed her to get to her feet, and when she sought escape down the stairs, he busted her bare bottom again with the razor strap. It was an awkward time, and it was old Isaac who finally broke the silence.

  “Jenny saw somethin’ in her eyes, the way she looked at you durin’ supper, and when you wanted to sleep in the barn, we knew she was up to somethin’. All I can say is, I’m sorry this happened.”

  “Forget it, Isaac,” Nathan said, embarrassed. “No harm’s been done.”

  “She’s like her ma,” said Isaac, as though he hadn’t heard. “After our son died in the war, she lit out with a renegade, and we ain’t seen her since. Daisy’s our only grandchild, and we’ve done our damndest to do right by her, but there’s too much of her mama in her. Tonight we lost her.”

  There was nothing Nathan could say. He eased the Colt off cock, again placing it beneath his pillow. Isaac sighed, and without another word, began descending the stairs. Nathan lay awake for a long time, half-expecting the wayward girl to return, but he wasn’t disturbed. It was well past dawn when he awakened. He pulled on his boots, belted on his Colt, took his hat and descended the stairs. Jenny was at the kitchen table, but there was no sign of Isaac or Daisy.

  “Sorry,” Nathan said. “I’m not a man to lie abed.”

  “You needed the sleep,” said Jenny. “Won’t take a minute to hot up your breakfast. Your dog’s hungry.”

  Cotton Blossom had followed Nathan down the stairs and stood there with his head canted toward the big stove with its odor of fried ham.

  “Cotton Blossom’s always hungry,” Nathan said, “but I can’t fault him. So am I. These are lean times.”

  “I’ve cooked enough so’s you’ll have something to take with you. Isaac is at the barn. I’ll bring your breakfast. Yours too, Cotton Blossom.”

  When Isaac returned from the barn, he warmed his hands at the stove, then joined Nathan at the table. Jenny brought Isaac a cup of coffee, and he held the hot cup with both hands.

  “I give your hoss a bait of grain,” said Isaac. “Cold as it is, the snow won’t be meltin’ anytime soon. Graze may be hard to find.”

  “I’m obliged,” Nathan said. “I’ll be riding west. Can you tell me anything about what might lie ahead?”

  “A day’s ride will get you into Kentucky. First town I’m sure of is maybe three hundred and twenty-five miles, and that’s Bowling Green.”

  “You don’t know what’s between here and there,” said Jenny. “I’ve packed you enough grub for four days, so you won’t starve.”

  “Ma’am,” Nathan said, “that’s more than I have any right to expect.”

  “Hush,” said Jenny. “It’s no more than we should do for one another. Till you rode in, we ain’t seen another human face since ...” She paused awkwardly.

  “Since the man showed up that Daisy’s ma run off with,” Isaac finished.

  Nathan still hadn’t seen Daisy, but he could feel her dark eyes on him, and as much as he hated to leave Isaac and Jenny, he longed to be out of that cabin and on his way. On a peg in the wall hung Jenny’s faded apron, and into its pocket Nathan managed to slip a gold double eagle without being observed. The sky was overcast and there was a cold wind from the north, but the snow had stopped shy of a depth that would have made traveling difficult. Nathan opened the barn door and the black horse nickered. Old Isaac hadn’t spent all his time in the barn milking. Behind Nathan’s saddle was a bag of grain for the black horse. Nathan saddled up, mounted, and with Cotton Blossom loping along behind, the trio again headed west.

  Twice during the day they passed isolated cabins, the only sign of their habitation being the smoke trailing from the chimneys. Thanks to Jenny having supplied them with food, they might be able to reach Bowling Green without stopping at some settler’s cabin where old hatreds from the war still burned bright. Before dark they reached a cave whose entrance was sufficient for Nathan to ride the horse into without difficulty. There was a supply of dry wood, evidence that the cave had sheltered others. A nearby creek had water aplenty, and thanks to old Isaac’s thoughtfulness, Nathan had grain for the horse.

  Bowling Green, Kentucky. February 1, 1866.

  The snow melted and the weather became mild. Nathan took advantage of it, and riding warily, reached the little town of Bowling Green the day after he and Cotton Blossom ha
d eaten the last of the food Jenny had prepared. The town seemed sleepy, peaceful, but recalling his near-disaster in Roanoke, Nathan took no chances. He rode down the single street, past the mercantile, to the other end of town. If somebody recognized his horse and men came out shooting, he didn’t aim to be boxed in. Men on the boardwalk seemed to pay him no particular attention, going on about their business. He rode back along the dirt street to the mercantile and dismounted, taking his time in slip-knotting the reins of his mount to the hitch rail. Still there were no cries for the sheriff, no thump of booted feet, and no roar of guns. Nathan made his way into the store and the man behind the counter nodded to him.

  Nathan looked around and found the store surprisingly well stocked. A cedar beam extended from one side of the store to the other, and hanging from it, slightly more than head high, was an array of smoked hams and sides of bacon. Cotton Blossom yipped in anticipation.

  “Sorry about that,” Nathan said. “You want me to take him out?”

  “Naw,” the storekeeper grinned. “He can’t get up there. Anything I kin get fer ye, in p’ticular?”

  “A ham and a side of bacon,” said Nathan, “and I could use some ammunition for my Colt, if there’s any to be had.”

  “Ain’t none. But if there’s any truth in what I’m hearin’, it won’t make no difference. The Yanks has drummed up a Reconstruction Act that says them that fought agin the Union ain’t allowed to have guns.”

  There was no flour or sugar, but Nathan managed to buy a sack of coffee beans. His gold double eagle was accepted without comment and he was given change. His purchases were secured in a burlap bag that he evenly divided and lashed behind his saddle. He then mounted and rode west, unmolested, with Cotton Blossom trotting along behind. Having food, Nathan bypassed the other towns and villages. Paying his toll, he crossed the Mississippi on a ferry just south of Sikeston, Missouri. He then followed the river north to St. Louis.