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Winterborn Ch. 01

By: woodmanone



This is another departure from my normal type of story. I hope the readers will receive this tale as well as they did my prior story in this vein, The Trail West.

As always, constructive comments, critiques, and emails are hoped for and appreciated.

This story is loosely based and greatly inspired by the song Winterborn by the Cruxshadows. I'm not usually into Grunge Rock but I've been haunted by their song for over a year. I just had to write a story incorporating the ideas told in this song.

You can see the video and hear the song on YouTube.

And in the fury of this darkest hourWe will be your lightYou've asked me for my sacrificeAnd I am Winterborn

(by the Cruxshadows)

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

Dillon Gallagher had been a 20 year old junior at Virginia Military Institute planning a career with the United States Army when Confederate troops attacked Fort Sumter on April 12, 1861. Virginia's secession from the Union followed on April 17th and he knew that his plans were dead. He left school and returned home. Two months later he heard that the First Virginia Cavalry was being formed in Winchester; so he equipped himself and rode north to join up.

Before he left his father made it clear that he thought Dillon was being foolish. "You've always said that slavery was morally wrong and a financially inefficient way to farm. How can you go fight for something you think is wrong?" Samuel asked.

"I did say those things and I still believe them. You'll notice that I hired immigrants, mostly Irish, to work the place that Grandpa left me. It costs less than running slaves and it also lets me sleep at night," Dillon said.

"Why would you fight to preserve owning slaves if you're so set against it?"

Dillon looked at his father for a few seconds before he answered. He knew his father wouldn't understand or approve his reasoning. Sighing he replied, "I'm going to fight to preserve state's rights, Father. I don't believe that the Federal government has the right to dictate to each state how we should live. It's as simple as that."

Samuel thought about what Dillon had said for a minute or so. "You know if you fight for the Confederacy you'll hurt the bank."

"What?" Dillon asked not believing his father's main concern.

"You've said yourself over these last few weeks that the South can't win the war against the Union. Right?"

"That's what I said. The Union can put a superior number of soldiers in the field and they have the industrial machine to better supply them. The Confederacy can't overcome that with bravery," Dillon replied.

"If you're right, and I think you are, when the Union wins there'll be hell to pay for Southern sympathizers. If my son fought for the south, I could be thought of as a Southern sympathizer and lose the bank." Samuel paused for a bit and asked, "Why can't you stay home? Run your farm or help me here at the bank or take a trip to California."

"Don't you understand Father, I have to go. If I stay home, I'll be branded a coward and couldn't live here after the war anyway. And I won't fight against my friends here in Virginia, even if I don't believe completely in their cause. That leaves joining the army of the Confederate States of America. Besides, Virginia is my home and I can't stand by and see her destroyed."

Dillon thought for a minute and then muttered in a low voice, "Winterborn."

"What's that you said? Winterborn?" Samuel asked puzzled.

"It's a very old poem I read while at school. It pretty much sums up our situation here," Dillon answered. He hesitated a few seconds and then quoted:

"So bury fear, for fate draws nearAnd hide the signs of painWith noble acts, the bravest soulsEndure the heart's remains

And in the fury of this darkest hourWe will be your lightYou've asked me for my sacrificeAnd I am Winterborn"

"What the hell does that mean Dillon?"

"Winterborn is a religious legend from the Middle Ages that says that people born during December are sort of a lost breed. Those people or groups were often asked to sacrifice themselves for a cause; similar to what Jesus did." Dillon paused with his head down, "Even if it's a lost cause." Lifting his head he added, "That's what the soldiers of the CSA are being asked to do; Sacrifice themselves, they can't win this war."

"I don't understand. All I see my son being a young fool."

Dillon smiled for the first time and said, "You know Grandpa Flynn always said that a man has to believe in something; even if it wasn't smart to do so he has to believe in something. I guess you believe in this bank and money; a sorry thing to base your life on."

The young man stood and gave his father a sad look. "Good bye Father. Tell Mother I'll write when I can." Dillon turned, left the office, and started his journey to join the First Virginia Cavalry.

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

For the next four years, Dillon rode through hell. The First took part in several large battles and Dillon was at all of them. The First, commanded by J.E.B. Stuart, helped General Thomas Jackson earn his nickname of 'Stonewall' at First Manassas in July of '61.

Dillon was wounded at Second Manassas in August of '62. He was shot through the meaty part of his leg but missed the bone and he recovered quickly. The First were continuously in battle with little down time for the entire war. Dillon had at least five horses shot out from under him, but was never wounded again.

The only good thing that's come out of all this is my new pistol, Dillon thought. The First had conducted an early morning raid on the Union Army's flank and over ran them. Dillon saw a Yankee Lieutenant riding hard to escape and followed slowly behind him. The Lieutenant came to an abandoned barn and rode his horse into the structure. Dillon found him hiding in a stall, tending to a gunshot wound in his leg.

Slowly entering the barn, Dillon with his LeMat pistol drawn, was able to capture the Lieutenant. The Yankee weapons, a repeating rifle and a sidearm were confiscated. Standing orders stated that captured weapons were to be turned over to the company commander for distribution to the company; supplies, especially weapons were getting harder to supply.

Dillon saw that the young Lieutenant's sidearm was a Remington New Model Army .44, an extremely fine pistol. One advantage of the Remington was that you could load extra six shot cylinders and change them out quickly when you emptied one. In addition, the bullets and caps for the Remington were easier to come by than supplies for his LeMat so Dillon decided that he would keep the pistol.

If I turn it in, it will probably end up being carried by some real echelon office, Dillon rationalized. He'll strut around Richmond or Savanna telling stories about how he took the weapon from some Yankee officer. I think I can put it to better use right here.

The First took part in their last battle of the war at the town of Appomattox Court House in April, '65. When General Lee went to the home of Wilmer McLean to surrender to General Grant, Dillon didn't stay around. He had an idea of what would happen after the surrender; the Union would run rough shod over the southern states to punish them. Dillon didn't want to witness the coming punitive actions. He rode west, out of the war zone and away from his beloved Virginia.

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

Dillon had left Appomattox making his way from Virginia southwest through the war torn southern states to New Orleans. He dodged both Union patrols and the remnants of the Confederate Army along the way. The Confederate States of America may have surrendered, Dillon said to himself but I haven't.

It took him most of six weeks of drifting to get to DeWitt county Texas in. He met and worked for Creed Taylor, a former Texas Ranger, for a while. Taylor was the one that showed Dillon how to really handle a pistol. Dillon had worked for Taylor for about a year and then move on further west. Leaving Dewitt he made his way to nearby San Antonio.

There he met several fellow "Johnny Rebs" who had stayed in the west rather than going home; several skirmishes between the North and South had been fought in the area. Most of the gray coats were just trying to make a living and get on with their lives but some had become petty thieves, road agents, and bandits.

Two of these thieves tried to steal Dillon's horse late one evening. He'd been sleeping in the hay loft of the stable when he heard the men talking as they attempted to steal his horse and gear. Dillon climbed down from the loft, pulled his pistol, and approached the two men.

"I think you fellers made a mistake. That's my horse and gear you're takin. I suggest you put them back," Dillon said.

One of the men turned pulling his gun but before he could bring it to bear, Dillon shot him in the chest. He heard another gunshot and felt the impact of a bullet as it grazed his left arm. Dillon fired and hit the second man in the belly. Walking over to the pair lying on the floor he kicked their guns away. Dillon examined one man and saw he was dead. He turned back to the wounded man, but there was nothing he could do for him; the man was gut shot. Before Dillon could go for help, the second man died.

Bill Swanson the middle aged stable owner rushed into the area carrying a double barreled shot gun. He saw Dillon standing over the dead men and asked, "What happened?"

As Dillon explained Swanson inspected the two men. Turning to Dillon he said, "Son you better ride out. That's Sam Wade and Jerry Carter you shot. Their friends of Jake Stewart, the town marshal."

"Why should I run? It was self defense."

"Don't make no difference. Stewart will hang you as sure as your standing there. You better ride boy." Seeing the blood on Dillon's shirt he continued, "Let's take a look at your wound and then you need to get on the trail."

The gunshot had sliced a furrow through the muscle of Dillon's upper arm. Swanson cleaned and bandaged the wound; it would be painful but not life threatening. He handed Dillon some trail supplies and helped him saddle his horse. "You need to go and go fast. I'll wait for a bit before I go find Stewart."

"Thanks Mr. Swanson, I'll not forget your kindness," Dillon said as he mounted and headed out of San Antonio. He headed south deciding that Mexico would be a good place to head for. Dillon made it to Laredo and then across the Rio Grande to Nuevo Laredo. At least there weren't any Union troops on the Mexican side of the river.

Dillon spent several months in Mexico, learning the language and hiring out as a payroll guard from time to time for the mines in the area. He'd been shot at several times but his skill with his pistol saved his hide and the payrolls he guarded. Sitting in a cantina one evening two days after his latest run in with bandits, three rough looking men approached him looking for trouble.

The men had the look of former soldiers; two wore the yellow striped grey pants of the Confederate Cavalry and the other wore a Union jacket and cap. The leader of the pack reached across the table and took Dillon's drink. Knocking back the tequila; his look dared the young man to say anything. Dillon didn't react which made the man angry.

"You're the one that rode guard for the mine payroll a couple of days ago, are ya?" Dillon didn't speak and just nodded. "You shot up my cousin in that gun fight."

For the first time Dillon spoke. "He got what he deserved mister. If he hadn't tried to rob me I wouldn't have shot him." Under the table he loosened his Remington .44 in its holster; he was expecting trouble with from this group.

The large man roared and went for the pistol stuck in his belt. Before he could get it out Dillon stood, drew his own gun and fired. The two other men went for their guns at the same time but Dillon was much faster and fired two more shots in quick succession.

When the noise and smoke cleared there were three dead men lying on the floor of the cantina. Dillon holstered his pistol, walked to the bar and tossed a few coins to the bartender. "Sorry about the mess senor," he said. Turning he left the cantina, mounted his horse, picked up his gear from his cabin, and rode out of Nuevo Laredo.

Dillon thought about his life and travels since the end of the war. Has it really been over three years now? Maybe I ought to head home, he thought. Seems all I'm doing out here is getting shot at or shooting people.

After three years away from home, Dillon headed back to Richmond. Maybe I can make peace with Father, he thought.

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

Samuel Gallagher looked at his son; Dillon as he sat across the desk from him. The two hadn't seen each other since Dillon left home to join the 1st Regiment Virginia Cavalry in July of 1861. The elder Gallagher still owned the largest bank in Richmond, Virginia; the former capitol of the Confederate States of America. He and Dillon were in Samuel's plush office on this early morning in September '68.

Dillon's been gone for 7 years Samuel thought as he appraised his son. He found the change in Dillon remarkable; the boy's matured during his long absence, Samuel said to himself. Maybe now he'll understand my position.

Dillon had left Richmond a little soft; he had been 6 feet tall and weighed 225, with a pale complexion. Dillon took after his mother with blue eyes and very dark hair which he wore unfashionably long. He returned whip cord slim and strong; now weighing no more than 190. His face was sun burned to a deep tan which made his blue eyes seemed to jump out at you.

The older Gallagher also saw a change in Dillon's personality. He was no longer the almost naïve, argumentative, angry young man that had left home. Now he was quietly confident and seemed older than his 27 years.

"Where have you been?" Samuel asked. "Lee surrendered in April of '65. It's been better than three years since then."

"I decided I didn't want to be around for the aftermath of the surrender, so I headed west for a while," Dillon replied.

"No matter, you're here now. We'll get you cleaned up and tomorrow I'll take you to the Capitol building. You can take the Oath to the Union and we'll get on with our lives," Samuel said. "Of course your farm was confiscated, what with you being a Confederate officer. I tried to stop it but couldn't do anything." Then almost to himself, "I hope you're service doesn't have an adverse effect on the bank."

"Wouldn't mind cleaning up a bit, but I can't take that oath." Dillon stared at his father and said, "Also I don't believe you tried very hard to keep them from taking the farm; it might have put you in a bad light with your Northern friends."

Samuel stopped and looked at his son. He saw the conviction in the boy's eyes and the set of his chin. "Can't or won't take the oath?" He didn't address Dillon's comment about his efforts to save the farm.

"Take your pick, either way I'm not swearing an oath to the Union," Dillon replied returning his father's hard stare.

"Why in the world not? If you're going to live here you have to take that oath."

"I already took an oath; to the Confederacy. Reckon a man's only good for one oath at a time," Dillon said with a grim smile.

"But the wars over; Lee surrendered," Samuel almost pleaded.

"Lee surrendered, I didn't."

"If you don't swear that oath, it could cause me and the bank a lot of trouble. I've managed to hold on by helping the Union representatives down here. Do you want me to lose it all?"

"You haven't changed, have you Father? Our views haven't changed since our last talk either. The only thing you believe in is money and profit. The only difference is now you're a toady for Northern Reconstruction," Dillon said sadly.

Samuel angrily responded "I think you're just afraid to admit you were wrong to join the Confederacy. I never thought I'd see my son be too much of a coward to do what's good for the family."

Dillon stared at Samuel with a cold anger; his eyes blazing. "A coward! If you weren't my father I'd shoot you where you sit," Dillon said, his voice quivering with rage. His hand had moved to the butt of the pistol at his hip. "I won't be staying; I'll drop by and say good bye to Mother before I go."

"You and your mother are two of a kind. She moved to her sister's in Boston two years ago," Samuel said.

"Good for her. I'm glad that at least one of my parents shows some sense. Good bye Father, I doubt that I'll ever see you again." Dillon stood, looked at his father one last time and left the office.

Outside the bank, he mounted the big buckskin stallion that had carried him for hundreds of miles and rode to his father's house; there was a room over the carriage house where Dillon lived before the war. Hidden behind a false panel were several of his things that he wanted to take with him.

He pushed open the panel covering his treasure trove and sorted through the contents. One of the things he wanted was gold and silver Hunter cased pocket watch with a heavy gold chain and fob. The watch had belonged to his maternal grandfather James Dillon Flynn. He was a crusty old man that had never been impressed by Samuel Gallagher and his wealth. In spite of Samuel's objections, Dillon's mother, Sarah, had named her son after her father. It was the first but not the last act of independence and rebellion by Sarah.

Inside the case of the watch was a picture of Dillon's mother; taken just before Dillon left for college. The watch had been left to Dillon when his grandfather Flynn has passed away. Along with the farm and watch he received sixty $20 double eagle gold coins worth $1200 dollars from the old man's estate.

There were several other items that Dillon wanted to take with him. One was a Bowie knife and sheath, also left to him by Grandpa Flynn. It had been made by the same blacksmith, James Black that had made the original knife for the famous Jim Bowie. Flynn and Bowie were friends and cohorts in the early 1830s and after covering each others back in saloon fight in a small Texas town, Bowie made a gift of the knife to his friend.

The other items Dillon took were two books of poetry. While attending Virginia Military he became interested in certain poets and poems; these were two of his favorites. One was a collection of the works of Shelley and the other the works of Lord Byron. Some people will think I'm a dandy from the east if they see these, Dillon thought. It doesn't matter what they think, I want them with me.

Riding to his old room and now as he was leaving he could still see the aftermath of the devastating fires that ran through Richmond in April of '65. The fires had been set by the retreating Confederate troops trying to destroy any supplies that the invading Union army could use.

The fires had gotten out of hand and burned over 25 percent of the buildings in the city. The Union soldiers put out most of the fires as they advanced and captured the city. In spite of what many of the city's residents thought it was the Union army that saved Richmond from even greater destruction.

Dillon looked at the burned out areas of the city that even three years later hadn't been cleaned up or restored. This is why I didn't come home he thought. This and the overbearing attitude of many of the managers, officials and representatives of the Union government. If I stay, I'll end up killing some carpet bagger. Time to leave; for good this time.

Taking one last look, Dillon didn't replace the panel to cover the hiding place. Doesn't much matter now, he said to himself. He took his 'treasures' down to his horse and placed everything in the saddlebags. Mounting the big animal and turning its head west he said, "Time to go West Buck, this isn't my home anymore."


Winterborn Ch. 01



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

His plan for right now was to head back to Dewitt county Texas. His friend and sometimes mentor, Creed Taylor and his brothers were involved in a battle with a man named William Sutton. Sutton was part of the State Police and along with Union soldiers were enforcing the laws concerning Reconstruction in Texas. Dillon had recently heard of the Sutton-Taylor feud and thought he might go give his friend Creed Taylor and his brothers a hand in that ongoing battle. It didn't matter to Dillon if Creed was in the right; they were friends and that's all Dillon needed to know.

After the disastrous confrontation with his father, Dillon headed to Fort Smith. Dillon and Buck took all most two months to travel the close to twelve hundred miles from Richmond to Fort Smith Arkansas. He dodged Union patrols most of the way. Fort Smith had been known as "Hell on the Boarder" during the Civil War. It wasn't quite as wild in November of '68 but still not a place to let your guard down.

He had a reason for going to the Arkansas town. Fort Smith was far enough outside the control of the Union that he could get on a train bound for Texas. Dillon made a deal with the station master for him and his horse to ride in an empty box car on a train headed south to Houston, Texas. When he got to Houston he would continue on horseback south west to DeWitt.

He rode to Creed Taylor's ranch and found his friend sitting on the front porch of the ranch house with one of the new Winchester repeating rifles across his lap.

"Mr. Taylor, are things that bad?" Dillon asked pointing at the rifle.

"Damn boy, it's good to see you," Creed replied. "Yeah, thing are pretty bad right now. Get down and I'll tell you all about it."

Dillon hitched his horse to the rail and joined his old friend; leaning against the porch rail. "Heard about the Suttons and y'all back home. Thought I might come out and give you a hand," he said offering his help to Creed.

"Those damn Suttons are with the State Police. They're running rough shod over southern Texas and there's gonna be more bloodshed," Creed explained. As he was talking a young man rode up and dismounted in a hurry.

Stepping onto the porch he faced Dillon and said, "Who's this drifter Cousin Creed? Is he bothering you?"

Dillon stood up from his spot at the rail and faced the man. The youngster was primed for trouble and Dillon didn't want to be at a disadvantage.

"Settle down John," Creed ordered. "This is Dillon Gallagher, a friend of mine." He turned to Dillon and said, "This is my wife's cousin John Hardin; he came out to give us a hand with the Suttons."

"John Wesley Hardin?" Dillon asked. He'd heard of this youngster; some said he was the deadliest gun hand in the west. "I've heard of you."

Hardin smile didn't reach his eyes. "Creed told me about you too Dillon. Sez you're about as fast as he's ever seen." Turning to Creed he asked, "Who's faster Creed, me or Gallagher?"

"You boys pull your horns in, hear?" Creed looked at the two young men for a few seconds and then said, "Don't know for sure who's faster. You might be a touch quicker John, but I for damn sure wouldn't want to bet my life on the difference. Y'all come in for supper." Creed stood and led the way into the house.

Dillon was awake at daybreak; a habit he picked up in the army. He decided to take a short ride around the ranch to get a feel for things. Breakfast was ready when he got back; he cleaned up and joined Creed and Hardin at the table.

"What you been up too, since you left from here?" Creed asked over a last cup of coffee.

Dillon told him about his adventures and the trip back home. When he talked about Richmond Dillon's face got hard and his eyes blazed. "Wasn't much reason to stay so I reckoned I'd come back here and give you a hand."

"Don't want you staying Dillon. This ain't your fight and besides the last thing you need is to cross paths with those Union soldiers that the Suttons are running with." Creed held up his hand to stop Dillon's reply.

"There's paper on a man that fits your description from San Antonio and those Yankees would love to get their hands on you. There's even talk about a shoot up down in Mexico. Seems like a Union soldier from Laredo got shot in a cantina south of the boarder; no one talks about what he were doin there. But the Yankees are a mite upset at some payroll guard. I think you'd better ride on son," Creed finished.

"Maybe your right Creed, but I sure hate to leave you in a bind."

Creed smiled at Dillon's obvious concern and said, "You're not son. The other ranchers around here are southern boys many who served in the war and they're not too happy with the Suttons either. There's a passel of us upset with those bastards. Before this is over I intend to see that there's a several less Suttons around to bother us."

"I'll see to it," Hardin added.

Dillon looked at the youngster, smiled, and asked, "How old are you John?"

"I'm old enough to be damn good with his hog leg," he answered. "Want to try me out?"

"Wasn't questioning your skill or your courage John. I was just curious." Dillon wasn't afraid of the young pistolero but saw no need to push things. He didn't want to cause his friend more trouble; turning back to Creed Dillon said, "I'll leave now Creed. I wouldn't want to cause you another problem if they found a wanted man being harbored on your ranch"

"It's been good to see you son. Come back after this ruckus is over with and we'll have a drink or two and tell lies to each other," Creed replied with a big grin. "Take care of yourself boy."

Dillon packed up and rode away from DeWitt. Now where to, he asked himself? It was July of '69 and he decided to go to Amarillo to see the parents of some boys that he'd fought with at First Manassas in '61. He made the three day ride to Austin to get a train to Fort Worth. San Antonia was closer and had a bigger rail head but with the warrants out on him, Dillon didn't think it'd be too smart to push his luck.

Again he was able to make a deal with the agent to ride in a cattle car headed to Fort Worth; this time it took a little extra money under the table for the two day trip. Arriving in Fort Worth, he put his horse in the livery stable to pamper it a little. He paid for the horse to be rubbed down and fed with a grain mash. The animal had a long journey ahead and Dillon wanted him in top condition. He treated himself to a room in a small hotel; it was the first bed he'd sleep in for over a week.

The next morning at first light, Dillon started the long ride to Amarillo. It was close to 360 miles to his destination; he thought it would take a little over two weeks to get there; assuming he didn't run into trouble along the way.

He rode into Wichita Falls late in the afternoon of his fifth day on the trail. Dillon bedded his horse down in the livery and arranged to sleep in the loft over the stalls. The hay made a nice mattress after sleeping on the ground for four days.   

Dillon went to a nearby saloon for supper and a beer or two. He'd just finished his meal and noticed the town marshal come in and talk to the bartender. Three rough looking cowboys came through the swinging doors into the saloon and saw the lawman at the bar. The marshal had his back to the door and the men quietly walked toward him. They slowly started to draw their pistols; it was obvious they intended to shoot the marshal in the back.

Yelling a warning to the marshal, Dillon drew his own weapon and fired at the cowboys. The marshal turned at Dillon's yell bringing a double barrel shotgun into play. Dillon dropped one man; the blast from the scatter gun killed another and seriously wounded the third. The marshal and Dillon both quickly looked around the rest of the room for any other gunmen.

Dillon holstered his pistol as the marshal checked on the three men. Turning back to the bartender the marshal ordered him to send for the doctor to treat the wounded man; the other two needed the services of the undertaker. He was sent for too.

The lawman stepped over to Dillon, "I'm Marshal Thomas Ryan," he introduced himself offering his hand. "Thanks for the warning. It could have been a mite nasty for me without your help."

"Dillon Gallagher, Marshal. I figured they were up to something when they tried to sneak up on you."

"Why'd you get involved? Did you have a problem with those three?" Marshal Ryan questioned.

"No sir, just don't like back shooters. Reckon if they'd faced you it was your job to handle it but since they didn't I thought I'd deal myself into the game," Dillon replied. He sat back down to finish his beer and the marshal joined him.

"Where you headed Mr. Gallagher? Or do you plan to settle here in Wichita Falls?"

"Name's Dillon, Marshal. Hadn't thought much about staying here. As far as where I'm goin, I guess I'm sorta on my way to Amarillo; not in any hurry though."

"I think I hear the south in your voice Dillon. Did you by chance serve with the Confederacy?"

Dillon looked at Marshal Ryan for a moment and replied, "Yes sir, I served with the First Virginia Cavalry. Is that a problem Marshal?"

"I reckon you've earned the right to call me Tom," Ryan said with a grin. "And no, it's no problem. Just makin an observation is all. I fought with the 2nd Texas Cavalry Company E myself."

"That was the Texas Ranger Company wasn't it?"

Ryan showed his surprise. "Yup it was. How'd you know that Dillon?"

"Friend of mine, Creed Taylor and some of his kin rode with Company E," he replied.

"Sure, I knew Creed and his brother Pitkin both," Ryan said. Then he smiled and offered, "It's almost like old home week, ain't it."

Dillon returned Ryan's smile, paused and asked, "Why were those three gunning for you Tom?"

Before the marshal could answer the doctor came in looked around and saw the men on the floor. "That one closest to the door is your patient Doc," Ryan said.

The doctor went to the wounded man and examined him. Looking up at Ryan he shook his head indicating that the man wasn't going to make it. "He don't need me he needs a priest and the undertaker," the doctor said

"What'd you shoot him with Marshal? He sure was tore up....oh I see," he said as Ryan held up his shotgun. By the time the men with a stretcher got to the bar, the last of the three bushwhackers died.

After the doctor and his helpers had carried the bodies out of the saloon, Ryan brought another round of beer to the table. "Don't like havin to kill folks. It's a bad night all around," he said as he sat back down at the table.

"I'll ask again. Why were those three gunning for you Tom?"

"Two weeks ago I went to arrest their brother for rustlin cattle. He decided to make a fight of it and I had to shoot him. Guess the fact that he was breakin the law didn't matter to these three. It cost them dearly."

Dillon finished his beer and stood to leave. "It's been......I was gonna say nice to meet you but I think interesting is a better phrase Tom. Maybe we'll meet again."

"You said you weren't in any hurry to get to Amarillo; would you consider working for me for a while?"

"Doing what?" Dillon was surprised at the question.

"My deputy, Bill Moore, had to go to Shreveport to take care of some family business. It'll be three or four months before he comes back; if he comes back. I need someone to replace him. You interested?"

"Why would you trust me? You don't know me," Dillon replied.

"You already backed me up once, now didn't you? That took care of the trust issue. I can tell by the way you talk that you're an educated man. I went to Austin College up in Sherman; it'd be nice to have someone to talk to about something besides cows and crops. So want a job for a few months?"

Dillon had never thought about becoming a lawman. It's not that much difference than being a payroll guard, he told himself. He didn't have to work because of the money left to him by his grandfather; but that money wouldn't last forever. Might not be a bad idea to supplement my bankroll now and then, he thought.

"Okay, I'll take the job, but just for three months or until your deputy returns," Dillon said shaking hands with Marshal Ryan.

"Don't you want to know what it pays first?"

"Reckon you'll be fair and pay me what I'm worth," Dillon answered. "If I can't trust a marshal who can I trust?" Dillon grinned at Ryan.

"You'll get $50 a month and room and board over to Mrs. Boudreaux's. She runs the best boarding house in the county. That suit you?" At Dillon's nod Ryan said, "C'mon let's get your gear and I'll introduce you to Mrs. Boudreaux. This is Saturday so take tomorrow to get settled in and you can start Monday morning.

For the first time Dillon took stock of Marshal Ryan as they walked to the hotel to get his gear. Tom Ryan looked to be in his mid 30's with sandy colored hair and a big bushy moustache. He was about two inches shorter that Dillon and had a stocky build. He walked with a confidence that dared anything to get in his way. A hard man Dillon thought; a good man to have on your side but a bad one to cross.

While Dillon was taking stock of Tom Ryan, the marshal did the same thing with Dillon. Ryan saw a tall, slender, graceful young man. He had the look of a man that had seen his share of problems and had overcome or stood up to them. Ryan noticed that Dillon's eyes would sometime look haunted and troubled. That's a result of the war and its aftermath Ryan thought.

After gathering Dillon's gear from the hotel the two men walked the short distance to Mrs. Boudreaux's. Stepping onto the front porch of the large two story home Ryan explained, "Mrs. Boudreaux's a widow; her husband, Jackson, was killed at the Battle of Sabine Pass in '63. He was a foot soldier providing protection for the Confederate battery guarding the Pass."

Walking to the front door, Ryan knocked once, opened the door, and stuck his head inside. "Mrs. Boudreaux, its Marshal Ryan. You got room for another one of my strays?"

"Anytime Marshal, come on in," a voice answered from the dining room. It was just a couple of seconds when the owner of the voice came to the entry way to greet them. The woman that came into the room was not what Dillon had pictured when Tom Ryan told him she was a widow.

Mrs. Boudreaux swept into the foyer and shook Ryan's hand. "I've had nothing but good things to say about those 'strays' as you call them. I sure this young man won't be any different." She turned to Dillon offered her hand, and said, "I'm Emma Boudreaux, welcome to my home."

Dillon quickly removed his hat and took the offered hand. "Dillon Gallagher, Mrs. Boudreaux. I'm please to meet you. Thanks for taking me in."

She smiled at him and turned back to Ryan with a questioning look, inviting an explanation. Ryan grinned, "Dillon's going to take Bill Moore's place as my deputy. If you can find room for him, I'd appreciate it."

Looking at Dillon she replied, "I think we can put Mr. Gallagher in Bill's old room for the time being." She turned back to the marshal, "Same rates as before Marshal. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes 'em it is. Just submit your bill to the town council; I'll see that it gets paid," Ryan answered.

"Have you had dinner Mr. Gallagher? I just put the food on the table; you can join us after I show you to your room."

"I'd appreciate a good meal, Ma'am. Been eating trail rations for better than a week," Dillon said. "No need to tear yourself away from your other guests; just point out my room and I'll join you shortly."

Mrs. Boudreaux smiled, "Top of the stairs, first door on your right. Bathrooms out back and there's a wash basin and pitcher in the room. Come join us as soon as you get settled. I'll say goodbye to you Marshal and return to my boarders." With a nod at Dillon she retraced her steps to the dining room.

Ryan smiled at Dillon and asked, "What do you think? She's something else, isn't she?"

"When you said she was a widow, I pictured a woman about my mother's age. Mrs. Boudreaux can't be more than 26 or 27," Dillon answered.

"She just turned 38, I believe," Ryan replied. "Come out to the house for supper tomorrow evening and I'll tell you all about her. More importantly, I'll tell you about your job. Our place is the big white house at the end of Main Street. See you tomorrow evening about 6."

Dillon found his room and stashed his gear, including his pistol and Winchester in his room. He had bought the Winchester Repeater, trading in his Henry, after talking to Creed Taylor about his Winchester. He washed up and joined the group sitting at the supper table.

When he stepped to the table, Mrs. Boudreaux introduced the three other men staying with her. "This is Bill Johnson on your left; he's a salesman that stays with me five or six times a year." Johnson nodded. She continued, "Sitting in the middle is James Randle. James is the land agent for the county. And on the left is Ralph Jacobs; Mr. Jacobs works at the freight office. Gentlemen, this is Dillon Gallagher, our new Deputy Marshal, so y'all mind your Ps and Qs."

Dillon nodded at the men and sat down. His mouth watered at the smell and sight of the food on the table. The fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans were passed to him one at a time and soon his plate was full. The others let him alone so he could eat. As he ate he examined Mrs. Boudreaux more closely.

She'll stand about 5' 8, tall for a woman he thought. Her dark almost black hair was worn up on her head leaving her neck free. The style was called a French bun; Dillon knew that because his mother often wore the same style. In the light thrown out by the lamps in the room, her hair shimmered in the reflected light.

He knew her age but it was hard to believe she was 38. She had a slender but strong looking body, big brown eyes that sparkled, and a no nonsense attitude that appealed to Dillon. Fine, strong woman, he thought. She's lost a lot but doesn't feel sorry for herself or let it get her down. As he finished his assessment, Mrs. Boudreaux noticed him looking at her and smiled. Guess she's used to men staring at her, Dillon said to himself returning her smile.

The next evening about 5, Dillon got his horse from the livery. Wichita Falls wasn't that big, he could have walked to Tom Ryan's house. But after nearly two days standing in a stall his horse needed to stretch and he wanted to look around the town.

Riding around he saw the normal businesses you'd expect to see; general store, bank, stage coach depot and such. What surprised him were the three saloons in a town that size. Dillon rode on to Tom Ryan's house. As he stepped up onto the porch the front door opened and Tom motioned him in. Dillon took off his hat as he entered the house and Tom pointed to a hat rack. When he turned around, just inside the door he saw a very pretty Mexican woman coming to greet him.

"Dillon this is my wife, Juanita. Honey, this is Dillon Gallagher. He'll be taking Bill's place for a few months."

He extended his hand but she pushed past it and hugged him. "Thank you for helping Tom the other night in the saloon. He would have been seriously hurt if you hadn't stepped in."

Dillon was a little embarrassed and looked over at Tom. Ryan stood there with a big grin on his face and just shrugged. "Honey, you're making more of it than it was. I keep telling you that it wasn't that bad."

"Nonsense. I talked to Charley at church this morning." She turned to Dillon and explained, "Charley was tending bar that evening." Juanita faced her husband again and continued, "He said that those three had the drop on you and that if Mr. Gallagher hadn't warned you, you'd probably be dead." She stared defiantly at Tom for a couple of seconds and then took Dillon's arm and led him into the dining room.




Winterborn Ch. 01



"Please sit here Mr. Gallagher she said showing him to one side of the table. "Is there anything I can get you before we start supper?"

"Yes em, you could drop the mister and just call me Dillon."

After finishing the meal, Dillon thought I could get used to this. Two great meals two nights in a row; sure beats the hell out of a cold supper on the trail. Tom held up two cigars and motioned for Dillon to follow him outside.

Dillon stood and gave a little bow toward Juanita. "That was an elegant dinner Mrs. Ryan. Thank you very much." He turned and followed Tom onto the porch.

"I notice three saloons on Main Street and a cantina around the corner. Isn't that a lot for a town the size of Wichita Falls?"

Tom had a grim smile when he answered. "Yep, it sure is. But they all get real busy when a cattle drive comes through."

"I've seen hands letting off steam in town after being on the trail for weeks at a time," Dillon said. "I know what you mean."

"The ranchers get price quotes by telegraph from San Antonio and from Abilene, Kansas; then they drive their herd to which ever has the best price." Tom chuckled and continued, "It's like throwing dice, one bad bounce and you've lost your stake. The ranchers are betting that the price will be the same or even higher after three to eight weeks on the trail. Sometimes they lose their bet."

Tom handed Dillon a cigar and said, "We get herds coming north to Abilene Kansas and herds heading south to San Antonio. And they all seem to lay over at least one night at our little town. Get's quite interesting sometimes."

After lighting the cigars, Tom explained the job to Dillon. "You'll work six days a week; Monday through Wednesday you'll have the night duty, 7 PM to 7 AM; there's a bunk in the office you can use to get some sleep. Thursday will be your day off. Friday through Sunday you work during the day, 7 AM to 7 PM. Any questions Dillon?"

He shook his head no and Tom added, "The only difference will be when the hands from a cattle drive are in town. We'll both be working until they're gone."

Dillon looked at Tom for a bit and said, "I do have one question. Why do you carry a shotgun?"

"Well.......I've run into a few that are a touch faster than me with a handgun but so far none of them could shoot straight. So I use a scattergun as an equalizer. It works better than a pistol when you face down more than one man too." Tom chuckled and added, "It sure puts the fear of God into someone that's looking down the barrel. Any more questions"

"Will you provide me with a scattergun or do I have to buy my own?" Dillon returned Tom's smile.

Monday morning at 7 AM, Dillon hitched his horse in front of the Marshal's office and went in. After saying good morning, Tom tossed a double barrel shotgun to him. Dillon saw it was Colt 12 gauge coach gun with 18 inch barrels.

"That's one of the few pieces of equipment that the town council will provide. They'll also provide loads for your pistol, Winchester, and that scattergun will be provided. Oh, I can get you a pair of shackles if you want. Personally I just use a tie down rope." Tom grinned and said, "Those damn shackles are too heavy to carry around with you all the time."

Dillon nodded and pick up a few shells from the box on Tom's desk and put them in his vest. He loaded the shotgun, put the weapon in the gun rack, and got a cup of coffee off the stove.

"I know you can handle yourself but I've got a little advice," Tom said. "We don't want to put too many of the cow hands in jail if we can keep from it. Settle em down and send them back to camp if you can. If not bring em in here and lock em up. Most time we can let them out in the morning so they can rejoin their outfit."

Dillon nodded again and replied, "Makes sense to me."

"By the way, we're expecting our first herd through here this weekend," Tom told him grinning.

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

The cow hands from the first two herds passing by Wichita Falls didn't raise too much hell. Dillon stopped a street fight that could have gotten ugly. He made the four men involved drop their weapons and head back to their camp. Dillon told them they could pick up the guns on their way out of town the next day.

At night after supper he took to reading the poetry books he'd brought with him from Richmond. Mrs. Boudreaux noticed him reading in the parlor one evening.

"What are you reading Mr. Gallagher?" It was interesting to her that this young man was actually reading.

"This one's a book of poems by Lord Byron," Dillon answered. Mrs. Boudreaux nodded that she knew who Byron was. "I have another one written by Shelley." She nodded again.

"Mr. Gallagher I have a small library down the hall there. You're most welcome to read anything you find there."

"Thank you ma'am, that'd be a real pleasure. You can only read so many two weeks old newspapers."

It became almost a nightly thing; on Dillon's nights off they would meet in the parlor and discuss poetry or other things that Dillon had read. On the days that he worked until 7PM, Mrs. Boudreaux would fix a plate of food for him and leave it in the oven. She took to joining him and they talked as he ate his supper.

One evening as she usually did, Mrs. Boudreaux asked him if there was anything else she could do for him.

"Yes ma'am there is. Could you see your way clear to call me Dillon? Mr. Gallagher makes me feel like an old man," he replied with a grin.

She chuckled and said, "I can do that Dillon and you must call me Emma."

As they talked that evening Dillon asked, "You're not from Texas are you Emma? I hear a southern influence in your speech instead of the Texas drawl like the folks from around here."

"You're very perceptive. I was born and raised in New Orleans," she answered.

"How'd you get to Wichita Falls, if you don't mind my asking?"

Emma had a sad little smile when she answered. "My marriage to Mr. Boudreaux, Jamie, was arranged by our families. We're Cajun and that's normal for the families back home. I was a frightened sixteen year old girl and Jamie was 26. We moved here right after we got married. Let's see that was almost 22 years ago."

"I'm sorry Emma; I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"You didn't. Jamie was a wonderful man and a better husband. He was very patient with me and I grew to love him very much. Then he was killed in the war six years ago."

"Did you ever think of returning home?"

"This is my home. Jamie ran a freight line and bought me this 'mansion' as he called it. After his death, I was able to sell the freight business and started a boarding house." She paused, smiled, and said, "It beats becoming a dance hall girl to make ends meet."

"Yes em, it surely does," Dillon agreed, thinking he wouldn't mind seeing her in one of the dresses those girls normally wore.

"I detect a bit of the south in your voice too Dillon," Emma remarked. "May I ask where your home is?"

"Richmond, Virginia is where I was born."

"If I get too nosey just say so," Emma said. Dillon shook his head and she asked, "Do you serve with the Confederacy in the war?"

"Yes ma'am, I rode with the First Virginia Cavalry. Seems like we fought every day for four long years."

"I'm sure you were glad to go home after the war ended," Emma said.

"Not really. The day that General Lee surrendered I headed west. I didn't go back home for three years."

"Why?"

"I guess some would say I was a coward because I didn't want to face the effects the war had on Richmond. So I just drifted for three years. Richmond was still a mess after all that time and the Union regulators weren't much help."

"You said you went home after three years. Why did you leave again?"

Dillon told Emma his reasons for leaving Richmond after a short visit; about the conflicting ideas and tension between him and his father, refusing to take the oath to the Union, and the Union confiscation of his farm. "My mother moved to Boston to live with her sister; there wasn't anything to hold me so I started drifting again"

"Now I'm the one that's sorry for bringing up bad memories," Emma apologized.

"Don't be sorry. The memories aren't bad or good, they just are.

Two weeks later on a Thursday morning Emma asked Dillon to take a ride with her. They rode to the cemetery outside of town. Dillon was a little puzzled at Emma's choice of destinations.

"Tomorrow is our anniversary, Jamie's and mine," Emma told him. "I come out here every year to spend a few minutes with him. This time I wanted someone that understood and had lost something in that damn war to come with me," Emma said. She got off her horse and took some flowers out of her saddle bag. Emma walked to a headstone and put the flowers on the grave and stood quietly for a several minutes.

Dillon waited with the horses and when she came back he saw tears in her eyes. She was smiling at the same time. "Thank you for coming with me Dillon." They mounted and rode back to the rooming house.

That evening they were in the parlor as usual. After the last of the boarders went to bed, Emma took Dillon's hand and led him to her room.

Dillon wanted nothing more than to go into that room but he had to say something. "Emma, I don't know how long I'll be here. I only signed on for three months, you know. I can't promise that I'll stay after that."

"I know. But tonight I want to be with you. You've lost a lot just as I have; we're like kindred spirits. Please give me, give us this night. We'll let the future take care of the future."

Dillon followed Emma into her bedroom and closed the door behind him.

To be continued.



Winterborn Ch. 02



This chapter can be read as a standalone story but it will make more sense and give you the background of the characters and the story line if you read the first chapter

As always constructive comments and emails are welcome and appreciated. .

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

Friday morning Dillon was late reporting to Tom at the marshal's office, he didn't get there until 8:30. He yawned as he walked through the door. Tom looked up from his desk and laughed.

"You look like you been rode hard and put away wet, Dillon."

"Sorry about being late Tom; I overslept. It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it," Tom replied. "When I get home Juanita wants me to start painting the house. All and all I'd rather sit here in my office." He laughed a little and added, "I was sorta hoping I'd have to ride out to investigate something so I didn't have to go home."

Dillon returned his smile as he got a cup of coffee. "Sorry Boss, I guess you'll have to go home now."

"Couple of things to talk to you about before I leave. Tom lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. "Just got a telegram from my deputy, Bill Moore. Guess I should say my ex-deputy; he's not coming back from Shreveport. Sez he has to stay for family reasons. Personally I think he got tired of having to brace those rowdy cow hands." Tom got up to get coffee and sat on the edge of his desk.

"The other thing is related; your three months will be up in two weeks. I know you only agreed to stay for that period but I'd appreciate it if you could give me another month. By that time there won't be many cattle drives coming through; it'll be getting too late in the season what with winter coming on. Maybe I can find another deputy by then; if not you'll be free to go, I won't try to get you to stay and no hard feelings."

Tom watched his deputy for his reaction to the request. "Think about it for a day or two and let me know."

Dillon took a sip of his coffee and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. He looked back at Tom for almost a half a minute before replying.

"Don't need to think about it, I've already made up my mind. I was gonna talk to you today," Dillon stopped, chuckled and then continued. "Before I was late coming in that is. I'd like to stick around a while if it's okay with you. I've become very fond of this little town and the people in it."

"Sure it not just one special person in town that you've become fond of; maybe a certain widow that runs a boarding house?" Tom saw by the flush that came over Dillon's face that he'd hit close to the truth with his teasing.

Dillon got up and refilled Tom's cup and his own, trying to hide his feelings. He ignored Tom's comment about Emma and said, "I feel at peace here; it's the first time I've felt that way since before the war. You're a good boss Tom and a better friend. You and Juanita have taken me into your home and made me feel welcome." 

Tom smiled at what to him was good news. He liked Dillon and respected him for the job he'd been doing. The young man seemed to know just when to push and when to take it easy facing down drunken cowhands. He was fair but didn't allow much leeway from the laws of the town. Most importantly, Dillon didn't have a god complex just because he wore a badge.

"I'm sure glad to hear that Dillon. You're welcome to stay as long as you've a mind too." Tom paused for a few seconds and said, "Sorry about teasing you."

Dillon realized he'd given his feelings away and replied, "Its okay Tom. I know you didn't mean anything by it. How'd you know anyway?"

"It helps to be able to read people in this job. Besides sometimes things just stand out when you look at them the right way. Why don't you take today off?"

"Don't want you to have to work another shift," Dillon responded.

"You can work for me tonight instead. Go get some sleep or do the errands you didn't do yesterday."

"How'd you know I didn't do the things I normally do on my day off?"

Tom grinned at his deputy and replied, "I saw you and Emma ride off yesterday. It's one of those things that stand out that I talked about. Now get, see you this evening."

Dillon left the office, surprised that Tom knew about him and Emma. He didn't want to go back to the boarding house right away; he didn't want Emma to think the only reason he came back was for another romp in the bedroom. Dillon wasn't sure if last night was a onetime thing or the beginning of something more. He smiled and thought either way last night was probably the best night of my life.

Running late, Dillon had missed breakfast so he went to the café first. After eating, he wandered over to the general mercantile to see if the shirts and trousers he'd ordered had arrived. Leaving that store he went to the laundry run by a woman and her two daughters. 

Dillon had started to dress a bit nicer since becoming a deputy marshal. He began to wear whipcord or wool pants, collared shirts with a string tie, and sometimes a mid thigh length frock coat. Each week the girls at the laundry washed and pressed his clothes; it cost him twenty five cents a week. It was an expense he hadn't had before but it sure beat doing his own things. Besides, he liked the way he looked and felt wearing cleaned and pressed clothes. 

His next stop was Sam Jordan's, the gun smith. Dillon only had to fire his pistol a few times since becoming the deputy; he depended mostly on the scattergun he now carried. 

Dillon's Remington .44 had been recently converted to using the new metallic cartridges. He made a point of increasing his supply every month after getting paid. As Dillon walked to the gun smith's he smiled and thought about the advice he'd gotten from his Grandpa Flynn. Grandpa always said, "You could get by without food for quite a while and even get by without water for a bit but if you needed it you couldn't get by without ammunition. Always remember that Dillon."

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

Shortly after Dillon became the deputy marshal, Sam Jordan and Dillon became good friends. A drunken cowhand decided he wanted to trade in his old pistol for a newer model. The problem was that he wanted to trade even. When Sam refused the conditions of the deal, the cowboy got belligerent and pulled his pistol on Sam; demanding that Sam make the trade.

Dillon had entered the gun smith's just as things were about to get out of hand. "I don't believe Mr. Jordan cares to do business with you. Holster your gun before I have to explain in more detail," Dillon ordered.

The hand turned to see a double barrel shotgun pointed at him by a Deputy Marshal with a determined look on his face. The man was drunk but he wasn't a fool; he put his gun back in his holster and raised his hands. Dillon walked over took the man's pistol and stuck it in his belt. "You want to press charges Mr. Jordan?"

Sam shook his head no. "He's just drunk. I was about to give him the gun he wanted. Then this afternoon or tomorrow I would have asked you or the Marshal to ride out to his camp and talked to the range boss. Most of the cattlemen don't want trouble with the towns they stop at so he would have gotten my gun back for me."

Dillon turned back to the cow hand and told him, "Mr. Jordan is giving you a break; y'all get back to camp. I don't want to see you in town again until your herd moves out. You can pick up your gun at the Marshal's office when you leave." He carefully lowered the hammers on the scattergun as the man went outside and rode out of town. "Sorry for the trouble Mr. Jordan."

"Sam's good enough between friends Deputy." He started to chuckle and motioned toward Dillon's shotgun. "I see you followed Tom's example. Ain't it amazing the effect a double barrel shotgun has on people when it's pointed at them? Makes em real docile, real quick."

Dillon laughed too, "That's the same thing Marshal Ryan told me."

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

Today Sam greeted Dillon warmly as he entered the store. "What can I help you with today, Deputy? The usual thing?"

"Yes sir. Cartridges for the Remington and shells for the big Colt here," Dillon replied holding up his shot gun.

"Not that I'm complaining about the business but why buy so much ammunition"? Dillon told him about his Grandpa Flynn's advice. "You're Grandpa was a smart man," Sam responded.

Dillon's final chore was to stop by the saloon and pay his monthly tab. He didn't drink much but sometimes he would have lunch there. He also would go into the saloon for a beer when there was a cattle drive passing through. Dillon or Tom's presence in the place would let the cow hands know that the law was nearby in case of trouble. 

He found Charley, the barkeep, just opening up. Normally the saloon didn't open for business until midday, but Charley always opened up a little early to make sure the place was cleaned up. Dillon paid his bill and stepped back into the street.

No more putting it off, he told himself. I'll have to go back to the boarding house if I want to get some rest before work tonight. Damn, I hope Emma doesn't get the wrong idea bout me coming back. He stepped into the boarding house and started toward his room. Randal and Jacobs, the only other full time guests, were at work so it was very quiet.

"Who's there?" Dillon heard from the kitchen. Emma came to the entryway to see who had opened her door. "Oh Dillon, I didn't expect you. Come into the kitchen and I'll make you some lunch. You're probably hungry; you left without breakfast this morning."

Dillon didn't say anything and before he could move toward the kitchen, Emma stepped close to him and put her arms around his neck. Wearing a playful frown and a small smile she said, "Don't leave again without saying good bye." Emma leaned in, kissed him, took his hand, and led him to the kitchen.

Following Emma Dillon thought, well I guess I don't have to worry about how Emma feels about last night.

They didn't spend every night together but more nights with than without. They settled into an easy relationship that made both of their lives better and Dillon was glad he decided to stay in Wichita Falls for a while. There were no illusions about them spending the rest of their lives together, but it was good for right now and that was good enough.

Dillon and Emma didn't flaunt their relationship publicly. The only time they went out together in town was shopping at the mercantile or other businesses for the boarding house. He made a point of not holding her hand or taking her arm; other than to help her up or down off the wooden sidewalks or into a wagon. Dillon was sort of the draft horse, carrying the packages back for Emma. 

The two "friends" took rides out into the surrounding country side several times; sometimes on horses and sometimes in a surrey. Other than at night after the other boarders had gone to bed it was the only time they were alone together. Three months after he and Emma rode out to her husband's grave and the beginning of their relationship, Dillon found out that they hadn't been as secretive as he thought. 

Juanita Ryan insisted that Dillon come to Sunday supper at least once a month. She felt it was the least she could do for the man that had probably saved her husband's life. Although she was about the same age as Dillon, she mothered him like a lost child. 

Tom, Juanita, and Dillon were sitting at the dining room table drinking coffee after supper. Juanita looked at Dillon and remarked, "Now don't you just clean up fine. I've never mentioned it but you look like a real gentleman Dillon." 

He grinned and fingered his tie; he was 'dressed' for two reasons. Dillon felt he should be presentable when he went to his friends the Ryan's and he had to go to work after supper. "A gentleman should always dress for dinner with a fine lady," Dillon bowed to Juanita. "And those cowhands just naturally respect a man that's better dressed and don't have cow dung on their boots."

"Wouldn't be a certain widow that you get dressed up for, now would it Dillon?" Juanita smile and then laughed at Dillon when he blushed.

"I....eh....I don't know what you mean," Dillon stuttered.

Tom laughed and said, "That dog won't hunt son. Everybody in town knows about you and Emma."

"Well, hell...sorry Juanita. That's just what Emma needs is a bunch of people talking behind her back," Dillon replied.

"Don't worry about it Dillon," Juanita said. "Most folks are glad to see her in good spirits. She laughs and jokes and talks with people just like she did before her husband was killed. Emma's sort of a town pet."

Tom nodded his head in agreement and added, "Bout the only ones not happy with you two is some of those bible thumpers over at the church. They want everybody to be as unhappy as they are so I wouldn't pay them no mind."

Dillon left shortly to go to work. I'll have to talk to Emma tomorrow about all this, he thought. I hope she's not too upset.

The next evening as he ate the late supper Emma had left for him he got his chance to talk to her. She poured him a fresh cup of coffee and joined him at the table. "It makes a woman feel good to see her man eat her cooking," she said with a little smile reaching out to touch his hand.

"Emma, I'm sorry," Dillon said. "I thought we were keeping things quiet but according to Juanita most of the town knows about us." He took her hand and continued, "I didn't mean for your standing in the town to suffer because of me."

She chuckled and then laughed out loud. "I know all about it. Some of the lady's and I have talked about you and I. Do you really think I care what the town thinks? One thing that Jamie taught me in our years together is do what you want. If it doesn't hurt anybody, do just what you want."

Emma paused and took Dillon's hand again, "We're not hurting anybody and you're what I want. Okay?"

Dillon couldn't help smiling. He grabbed Emma and pulled her onto his lap. "Other than Tom and Juanita and maybe a couple of others, I don't care what any of them think. It's my job to help protect them but I don't have to care what they think."

From that evening on, Dillon and Emma were seen more often around the town. Juanita saw them coming out of the mercantile holding hands and smiled. Things are out in the open now, she thought. They're good for each other.

On one of Dillon's days off he was confronted by the pastor of one of the local churches and three female church members as he came out of the general store. He tipped his hat to the ladies and started to walk around them. The oldest woman stepped back in front of him.

"Mr. Gallagher, you do realize that you and that woman are living in sin don't you?" The two women with her nodded their heads in agreement.

"Yes em, I guess some would see it that way."

"What do you plan to do about your whoring ways?"

Dillon's blue eyes turned icy and his ears seemed to flatten against his head like a big cat getting ready to attack. "Ma'am if you were a man I'd make you pay for those words. Excuse me." He stepped around them to leave. Before he got more than two or three steps, the pastor spoke up.

"Deputy you have to stop what you're doing with that woman," he said. "She's a Jezebel."

"Pastor, I won't extend the same consideration to you that I did to the ladies. If you insult Mrs. Boudreaux again I'll have to overlook you being a man of the cloth." Dillon's stare caused the pastor to step back and hang his head.

"My life and actions are no concern of yours," Dillon told them. He turned and took two steps, but stopped turning back to the church members. "Tell you what Pastor, you have the God you believe in have a talk with the God I believe in. When they get done jawing have one of them get back to me." As Dillon walked away he was so angry his hands were shaking.

The next Sunday evening as Tom Ryan was leaving his office he turned to Dillon and said, "Understand you had a run in with Pastor Jennings. He was in here complaining that you threatened him."

"Guess I did." Dillon explained the confrontation with the pastor and his flock.

"Thanks," Tom said with a big smile. "I'm glad you didn't beat the hell out of him, even though he probably deserved it. It'd be tough to explain that to the town council."

Late Sunday evening Dillon was making his rounds; inspecting the town to make sure everything was okay. He heard a shot and then three more coming from near the church. As he rounded the corner of the last building he saw three cow hands facing the people who'd been at the evening services. 

One of the men had his gun pointed at Pastor Jennings. The other two of them held pistols on the men that had stepped forward to help the pastor. 

Dillon stepped softly until he got into position. Pointing his scattergun at man facing the pastor he said, "I think we've had about as much fun here as we need too. Don't you boys?"

The three turned and saw the shotgun pointed at the leader. "Put your guns on the ground and step back, DO IT NOW," Dillon ordered.

One of the men started to turn toward Dillon. Before he could Dillon said, "Mister I'll shoot you where you stand if you keep moving. I just cleaned this gun; don't make me dirty it up killing you. I'll say it one more time; drop your guns on the ground and step back."

The man in the sights of Dillon's shotgun looked at his two friends and said, "Do what he said. That scattergun's pointed at my belly."

All three cowboys dropped their weapons and stepped back. "Now that's better boys. Maybe I won't have to get my shotgun dirty after all." Dillon looked at the group from the church. "Charley, pick up their guns will you? Sam I've got three tie ropes hooked to my belt, come get them and truss these fellars up."

Pastor Jennings was trembling but was beginning to get some color back on his face. He was obviously shaken. Dillon went over to Jennings and asked, "What happened Pastor?"

Pastor Jennings tried to talk but couldn't. Charley came over and explained. "These men said they saw the pastor and some others carryin temperance signs against drinkin and the saloon being open on Sunday. Those three came into the church and said they were gonna make the pastor change his tune." Charley stopped to chuckle.

"What were the shots?" Dillon asked.

"I guess they decided that the pastor needed to learn how to dance. The one shot at the pastor's feet. I know it's not really funny, but it was funny," Charley added.

Sam had the three men tied and helped Dillon get them headed in the right direction. "C'mon boys, let's head over to the jail. I'll let Marshal Ryan decided what to do with y'all tomorrow."

"If you hold us till morning, we'll miss the herd. They're leaving at first light," one of the men said.

"You shouldn't have shown your displeasure with Pastor Jennings and his temperance signs I guess," Dillon replied.

After locking up the three men, Dillon wandered over to the saloon that the men had been drinking in. He stepped inside and looked around. There were six or seven hands standing at the bar and a man that had to be the range boss sitting at a table. He was watching his men as they drank and shaking his head.

Dillon walked over to the table, "I'm Deputy Gallagher; I just locked up three of your men, Mister."

The range boss looked up, "I'm Carl Jones. How long before I can get them out? The herds leaving at first light and I'll need those boys."

"That's up to Marshal Ryan. Normally I'd just let them sober up and send them back to camp. They got a little too rambunctious so the Marshal will decide what to do with them." Dillon went on to explain why he arrested them.

Jones shook his head in disbelief. "The only thing dumber than cattle are some of the hands that drive them. Anyway can I get them out in time to leave with us? If we don't get to San Antonio in time the prices might change."




Winterborn Ch. 02



Dillon felt sorry for Jones. He remembered what Tom had told him that sometimes the cattlemen lost their bet. He thought for a minute; since no one was actually hurt he came up with an idea. Dillon knew that Tom tried to help the men driving the herds when possible. It really wouldn't do anyone any good to keep the hands in jail. Dillon told Jones to wait for him in the saloon.

He went back to the church to talk to Pastor Jennings. The pastor was sitting in the front pew of the church; he still looked a little shaken. "How're you feeling Pastor? Want me to send for the doctor?"

Jennings looked up at Dillon. "No, I'll be okay." He hesitated and said, "I didn't act very Christian toward you earlier this week, did I Deputy? I'm sorry and thank you for saving me tonight."

"Pastor Jennings, I need a favor. Those men are part of a herd heading to San Antonio and their boss, Carl Jones, really needs them to help drive the herd. Jones is just a rancher trying to make a living for his family," Dillon explained. "If you don't press charges against them, I can get the Marshal to let them leave with the herd."

Dillon saw that the pastor didn't like the idea of letting the men go. "Those drunkards should be punished for what they did," Jennings said. 

"Maybe so Pastor but they're not outlaws or hard cases; they're just young and foolish and drunk.....Didn't Jesus say something about turning the other cheek Pastor?" Dillon smiled and Jennings nodded. "And didn't he say you should pray for those that mistreat you?"

"Your knowledge of the Scriptures surprises me Mr. Gallagher," Jennings answered nodding again.

"My mother made me go to bible class every Wednesday evening until I left for college," Dillon explained. "I guess some it stuck in my hard head."

He hesitated and asked, "Would letting them go make you feel better Deputy?"

"Yes sir. I don't especially care about them but Mr. Jones has a lot riding on getting his herd to market. He doesn't deserve to lose everything because of a couple of drunks."

Jennings looked at Dillon for a bit and replied, "Tell the marshal that I'm not going to press charges and let the men go."

"Thanks Pastor. I'll go take care of it right now." Dillon stood and offered his hand to Jennings.

When Dillon got back to the saloon he had the three men with him. "Here you go Mr. Jones. Get them out of town before I change my mind," Dillon suggested.

Jones shook hands with Dillon and turned to his men. "Get yourselves back to camp." He yelled at the rest of his crew, "Y'all go with them. I want you to be able to sit a horse tomorrow morning." Turning back to Dillon he added, "It was real nice of the pastor to let them off. I'll see that they don't get off too easy, you have my word on it."

Dillon smiled, "I got a feeling they're gonna wish they had stayed in jail."

Reaching into his coat pocket, Jones pulled out a draw string bag. He took some gold coins out and handed them to Dillon. "See that the pastor gets this. It's a donation for his church, and thanks for your help Deputy." He followed his men out the door.

Dillon went back to the church hoping to catch Pastor Jennings still there. The pastor was cleaning the front of the church where the cowboys had made a mess.

"Pastor, I've got another question about the Bible," Dillon said with a smile. Jennings nodded and waited for Dillon's question.

"Isn't there something in the Bible about 'Cast your bread upon the waters, for thou shall find it after many days'. Is that right?"

"Again you surprise me Deputy. Yes the quote is from Ecclesiastes," Jennings answered.

"I guess you letting those three drunks go and helping Mr. Jones could be considered casting your bread. It hasn't been days but it's been returned to you," Dillon said as he handed the pastor two $10 gold eagles. "From Mr. Jones for the church." Dillon smiled at the look on the pastor's face. 

Pastor Jennings watched Dillon ride away and said softly, "God bless you Deputy."

The Marshal had been at another of the saloons calming down some rowdy cowboys; Dillon looked up as Tom came into the office. "Damn cow hands cause a lot of trouble when they get drunk; and they always get drunk as fast as they can," Tom said with a laugh. "So how's your night been so far?"

Dillon smiled as he told Tom about the disturbance at the church and how he handled the problem. "Hope I did right, Tom. No one was hurt, except for Jennings' pride and you always said cow hands in jail don't help anyone."

Tom listened to Dillon's story. "I think you did just right. I know Carl Jones, he's a good man. Good job Deputy Gallagher."

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

Emma and Dillon had never really talked about the future; they just enjoyed their time together in the present. Shortly after the events at Pastor Jennings' church, Dillon moved into Emma's bedroom. Everybody in town knew they were living as man and wife so it made no sense to run back and forth between rooms.

They had been together for several months when Emma brought up the differences in their ages. Dillon just waved his hand and shook his head indicating he didn't want to talk about it. "No need to talk about something that's not important," Dillon said and refused to discuss the subject anymore.

Another two months went by and Emma brought up the age difference again. This time she wouldn't be deterred. "Dillon, I'm ten years older than you and I'd understand if you wanted to meet a younger woman. A woman that could give you children and make a home and a family with you."

Dillon refused to be drawn into the talk and finally pulled Emma onto his lap and kissed her to keep her quiet. Emma never spoke about the subject again. Maybe I don't love Emma the way a man and woman should if they were to get married but I like our life and see no reason to change it Dillon said to himself, at least for right now. 

The next day he sat at the desk in the Marshal's office drinking coffee. I can't believe I've been in Wichita Falls for almost two years Dillon thought. Never thought I'd stay in one place that long; Course Emma had something to do with me staying.

Funny, Tom's talking about running for Mayor in the next election and he wants me to take over as marshal. Never thought I'd be a law dog deputy, much less a marshal. I'm not sure I want the responsibility; I'm not even sure I want to be here for much longer. This is a good town with good people but I'm not sure it's where I should stay. I need to make a decision; it's not right to have people counting on me being here.

Before he could continue with his thoughts, Tom entered the office and poured a cup of coffee, joining his deputy at the desk. 

"Think of the Devil and up he jumps," Dillon said smiling at his boss. "Just thinking about you being the Mayor. It'll be funny to see you strutting around in fancy clothes, putting on airs like you were a real gentleman." 

"I'm not Mayor yet and I'll wear just about what I do now. Anyway you're one to talk with that frock coat and string ties you wear," Tom replied with a grin.

"The difference is that I am a gentleman Tom. My commission from VMI sez so."

Tom laughed, "Y'all head on back to Emma. It's my turn to protect the good citizens of our fair town."

As Dillon walked to the boarding house he thought about the friends he'd made in those two years. Emma, Tom and Juanita were at the top of the list, but there were others. Charley the bartender, Sam the gunsmith, even Pastor Jennings were people he considered friends. They made what he was thinking of doing a lot harder.

After the events at the church with the drunken cowboys, Jennings became a supporter of the young deputy. Dillon laughed when he heard Jennings' reaction every time one of the do-gooder men or women of the church complained or gossiped about Emma and Dillon living in sin. Jennings would say, "Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone." Sometimes the verse was, "Judge not, least ye be judged." And to one busybody who continued to try and stir up trouble, Jennings said, "Mrs. Johnson, mind your own business."

Dillon entered the boarding house and made his way to the kitchen. As usual Emma had his supper warming in the oven. As he sat down to eat, Emma came in and joined him. She poured him a cup of coffee as he finished eating and sat back down.

"I received a telegram today from my sister, Rose," Emma told him. "She lives in New Orleans you know. Or maybe you don't, I haven't talked much about my family back there."

He saw the sadness in her eyes and waited for her to continue. I don't think this is gonna be good news, he thought.

"She needs my help; her husband died of the fever three months ago and she's trying to run the family business. My mother is ailing and Rose needs help taking care of her."

"When are you leaving?" Dillon asked with no expression on his face.

"Dillon, I'm sorry but I have to go help take care of my mother. Please don't hate me."

"I could never hate you Emma," Dillon said with a sad smile. He hesitated and asked again, "When are you leaving?"

"In about three weeks." About few seconds in a soft voice she added, "You could come with me Dillon. I'd love for you to meet my family."

Dillon hung his head and then looked up at Emma. "Wouldn't work. Besides, I don't belong back there anymore."

"You could belong if you wanted to," Emma said.

"I couldn't stand the carpet baggers or Northern regulators telling me what to do. I couldn't stand seeing what Northern Reconstruction is doing to the South. One of them would push me too far and I'd have to kill them. You'd be drug down with me Emma." 

Dillon paused and continued to look at Emma; she gave him a smile and motioned for him to continue.

"The last time I talked to my father, he said I was a coward for not staying in Richmond and doing what was good for the family. Maybe he was right. But I can't go back there."

Emma smiled again, got up and hugged him. "Dillon, you're more than welcome to come with me, but I understand why you can't. She paused, "We both knew we wouldn't be together forever. But you've made the last two years wonderful. Thank you."

That night was the most tender and loving that they had spent together since their very first one. Dillon fought with confliction emotions about the end of their time together. He was sad that he and Emma wouldn't see each other again; on the other side he was glad that he hadn't had to tell her he was leaving Wichita Falls.

The next two weeks were a whirlwind of activity. Emma had to pack the things she was taking with her. Most of the things she was leaving were given to Pastor Jennings to distribute to needy families. It was a bittersweet time for Dillon and Emma; both headed in different directions with their lives but both hanging on to each other as long as possible.

At the beginning of Emma's last week, Dillon asked, "What are you going to do with the boarding house?"

"I'm selling it to Juanita, well Juanita and Tom. She said she'd like to do something besides sit around home waiting for Tom. So we made a deal on the place and they'll take over the day that I leave. By the way Juanita said you could keep your room," Emma said. She added with a big grin, "But you won't have the same benefits."

She kissed Dillon quickly and then soberly said "When are you leaving Dillon?"

"I talked to Tom the day after you told me you were going home. Leaving the day after you do," he replied.

Emma looked surprised. "That soon?"

"You're the only reason I've stayed this long. Without our..." Dillon smiled and continued, "Shall we call it our friendship? Anyway, without our friendship I would have left about a year ago."

"Where will you go? I guess more importantly, what are you looking for?"

"I guess I'll join up with a herd headed to Abilene; I'm interested to see where all those herds were going. As far as what I want, I can't really explain it." Dillon paused, "I guess I want somewhere to belong, I want to make a place for myself. I'll know it when I find it."

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

Emma's last week in town passed too quickly for both her and Dillon. The last morning they rode out to the cemetery so Emma could say good bye to Jamie. She would take a stage coach to Fort Worth and get a train to head east from there. After a tearful good bye, Emma boarded the stage and rode out of Dillon's life.

Dillon had supper with Tom and Juanita one last time. Juanita tried to convince him to stay but Tom understood why Dillon needed to leave. After supper sitting on the porch with cigars Tom said, "I'm sorry Emma left and I'm sorry you're leaving. I thought you'd found a home."

Dillon smiled a little and quoted:

"It is the same! - For, be it joy or sorrow,The path of its departure still is free: Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutablilty.

"I'm an educated man," Tom said. But I don't recognize that. And I'm not sure what it means."

Dillon chuckled and said, "They neglected your education at Austin College. The quote's from Shelley. It means that the only thing that stays the same is that everything changes."

The next morning Dillon was surprised to see that Charley, Sam, and Pastor Jennings came to say good bye. Dillon mounted, waved so long and rode to catch up to the herd. He had gotten a job as a cow hand the day before.

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

The range boss, Ray Fleming, had his hands rotate through the different positions on the drive. Each man took his turn at point, flank, and drag. This gave the men a challenge and kept them from getting complaisant at their jobs. The lone exception was Teddy Sixkiller, a half breed Comanche. Teddy rode point every day; he was the best scout and could find water that others would miss.

It would take a little over a month to drive the cattle the almost four hundred miles to Abilene. Just over half way they crossed into Kansas. Dillon was riding point that morning with Teddy. The two men talked and learned from each other; they were becoming friends. Dillon had ridden with a couple of Cherokees during the war but found that the Comanche were very different. He had learned some sign language from the Apaches down in Nuevo Laredo so most of their discussion was augmented by sign language. It was good practice for Dillon.

Dillon had been looking around as they rode and talked. He pulled his horse to a sudden stop and seemed to be listening for something. "Hear that? " Teddy nodded and Dillon said, "Why don't you ride back and tell Mr. Fleming we've got company. There's a group of riders behind that hill yonder. I'll do a little more scouting."

Without a word, Teddy turned and rode hard back toward the oncoming herd. Nice to have someone that can follow orders without a lot of explanation Dillon thought. He walked his horse quietly to his right around the base of the hill. Coming to a small clearing in the scrub oak he dismounted and went ahead on foot.

Peaking around a rock outcropping he saw about a dozen horses and riders. They weren't mounted and Dillon heard one of the men say they'd charge the herd from behind when it passed the hill. Dillon knew that if the men rode into the rear of the herd shooting and yelling that the cattle would stampede; it would be tough to stop them once they got to running.

Dillon made his way back to his horse; he planned on riding back to the herd to talk to Mr. Fleming. Maybe we should stop the herd where it is and wait the raiders out, he thought. When he got back to his horse, Teddy was waiting for him. Now that there were two of them, Dillon had an idea. He signed what he wanted to do and Teddy nodded his agreement.

Both men mounted and walked their horses to the rear of the rustler's camp. Dillon nodded and he and Teddy rode hard toward the men, yelling and firing their pistols in the air. Their actions had the desired effect, the men ran for cover without returning fire. Most of the horses ran away from the yelling and gunshots; their escape left all but two of the raiders on foot. The two mounted men didn't look back; they rode away as if the Devil himself was on their heels.

Four of the cowhands, including Mr. Fleming rode around the other side of the hill and confronted the rustlers hiding in the scrub brush. Only one man tried to make a fight of it; unfortunately for him, the man he chose to aim his gun at was Dillon. The young Virginian wasted no time and shot the raider in the chest. The man dropped to the ground and didn't move. He was dead before he hit the ground Dillon said to himself.

"What do we do with them now?" Fleming asked, looking at Dillon.

The three hands that came in with Fleming wanted to hang or shoot the captured rustlers and said so loudly.

Fleming looked at Dillon and shrugged; he wasn't sure what to do. The herd was in the middle of nowhere with the closest town a two day ride one way. If Fleming held the herd while a few of his hands took the prisoners to town, it would delay their arrival in Abilene by several days. Or the other hand the range boss didn't want to shoot the men down in cold blood.

"Mr. Fleming, I suggest we disarm them and leave them on foot. If they find their horses it's not likely they'll follow after us with no guns," Dillon said. Then he grinned and added, "I think they've had all they want to do with this herd."

The range boss nodded and ordered his men to take the raiders guns. Dillon and Teddy stayed to guard the raiders while Fleming and the others went back to the herd. About 20 minutes later the cattle passed by the hill and Dillon and Teddy rejoined them continuing on the trail to Abilene.

Twelve days later Dillon got his first look at Abilene. Fleming had the herd put in holding pens and went to meet with the buyers. That night Fleming met his men in one of the numerous saloons in Abilene. Dillon met Fleming and the crew for one reason; it was payday. He had spent too long calming cowboys down in Wichita Falls to become one of the partiers now. 

"Thank you Mr. Fleming," Dillon said when he got his pay.

"Why don't you come back to my ranch Dillon? I could use a good hand," Fleming offered.

"No sir. I think I'll stay here and let my horse rest a little and then I'm headed for Amarillo. There are some folks I want to see there," Dillon replied while shaking Ray's hand. He left the saloon before the cowboys could build up a head of steam. Have fun boys, he thought. But stay out of trouble. The two years as a deputy was showing.

The next evening Dillon was leaving a café after supper and saw a commotion in front of a building at the end of the street. Probably should go back to the hotel, he told himself. Instead he walked over to see what was going on. The building was the marshal's office and jail. Standing in front of it was a very young Deputy Marshal facing ten or twelve angry men.

One of the men confronting the deputy shouted, "No need for you to get hurt Ned. Bring Scruggs out and we'll be on our way."

"Can't do that Jim. Scruggs will get a fair trial and then he'll hang," the deputy responded. 

"We know he'll hang, we just want to save the cost of a trial."

"Marshal Hickok would have my hide if I gave up his prisoner and I'm more afraid of him than I am of you. Just go on home boys, don't make a mistake here tonight."

"We gonna get Scruggs, with or without your help. You can't stop us all Ned."

Dillon stepped closed and to one side of the mob gathered in front of the jail. Pulling his pistol he said, "Maybe not Mister, but between the two of us we can make it real expensive."

The surprised men turned at Dillon's voice and saw him with a drawn pistol. The bearded man that had been threatening the deputy asked, "Why are you dealing yourself a hand in this?"

"Let's just say I don't like mob rule and leave it at that," Dillon answered. "If you try and take that prisoner more than half of you are going to die. You got to ask yourself if you want this Scruggs character bad enough to die for."




Winterborn Ch. 02



The group of men talked quietly among themselves, trying to decide if Dillon was bluffing.

"One more thing to think about," Dillon said. "Even if y'all get Scruggs, how mad is the Marshal gonna be where he finds out you took his prisoner? I sure wouldn't want Wild Bill Hickok on my trail, but that's up to you."

The men hesitated and continued talking to each other. "Y'all go on home and sober up. Tomorrow even if you wished you'd forced the issue, at least you'll be alive. Go on home," Dillon ordered in with a forceful voice.

Two or three minutes later the group walked slowly away, still muttering. Dillon knew the crisis was over; he holstered his pistol, and joined the deputy in front of the jail. "Right interesting wasn't it," Dillon said with a little grin.

"I admire your idea of interesting Mister, "the deputy replied. "Thanks for the help; it could've gotten real serious."

Dillon nodded at the deputy's thanks.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why did you step in? You a friend of Scruggs'?"

"Wouldn't know him if I saw him," Dillon answered. "I was a deputy marshal over to Wichita Falls for a couple of years; don't like to see anyone disrespect the law."

"I'm Ned Grimes by the way," the deputy said extending his hand.

"Dillon Gallagher," he said shaking hands. "You mentioned that Hickok is the marshal here. Where is he?"

"He's trailing a cowboy that robbed and shot up a saloon last night. Should be back by morning. You know the marshal?"

"Only by reputation. Most wouldn't want to cross him; that's why I mentioned him to that group." Dillon smiled at Ned and said, "Thanks for the entertainment Deputy. Guess I'll turn in."

"Come by the office tomorrow I'm sure the Marshal will want to thank you for your help," Ned suggested.

"No need, besides I'm leaving at daybreak. You got sand Ned, don't let it get you in over your head, hear?" Dillon went back to his room.

Dillon had bought a horse from Mr. Fleming to use as a pack animal and to spell Buck every other day or so. He had a lot more gear than when he rode into Wichita Falls; his ammunition, trail gear, rifle, and shotgun were too much for one horse to carry in addition to a rider. He saddled Buck and the pack animal and left early in the morning.

By the time Marshal Hickok got back and heard the story, Dillon had been on the road for three hours. Guess I could have stayed a day and got to meet a legend, Dillon thought as he rode. He chuckled at his 'hero worship' and continued to ride toward Amarillo.

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

It took twenty two days for Dillon to get to Amarillo. He could have made it quicker but he wasn't in a hurry and saw no need to work his horses any harder. Buck was a good animal and well trained and Dillon had no idea when he'd quit drifting so he didn't push the big buckskin. He arrived in Amarillo late on a Friday afternoon and after stabling Buck and the pack horse, Buddy; Dillon got a hotel room for the night. 

Early the next morning he headed north to the McCall spread. It took just over an hour to ride up to the ranch house. A big man with red hair was sitting under a big cottonwood tree and watched Dillon ride up. Dillon stopped Buck several feet away.

"Climb down and rest yourself," the big man suggested. "There's water for your horse in the trough there and I'll have one of the kids bring you some coffee, if you've a taste for it."

"Thanks you," Dillon said as he dismounted. "Looking for the McCall spread."

"Your search is over son. I'm Jess McCall and this is my place. Who might you be?"

"Name's Dillon Gallagher." Dillon led Buck over to the water and let him drink a little; then tied him to the hitching rail in front of the house. Somehow McCall had signaled to the house and a young boy about twelve brought two cups of coffee for the men.

"And what can I do for you Mr. Gallagher?"

"Nothing sir. I served with your son Charley at Manassas in '61. I just wanted to stop by and tell you that he was fine officer and served with honor," Dillon replied solemnly.

Mr. McCall got a faraway look in his eyes. "All three of my sons fought at Manassas. Charley and Samuel were both killed assaulting the Union flank."

"Yes sir, I know. I was with the First Virginia Cavalry; we were on the right flank of 29th Texas during that attack. That charge broke the Union lines and led to their retreat," Dillon explained. "Charley and I met and talked for a few hours before the battle. He said that after the war he planned to come home and turn your farm into a real ranch."

The big man gave a little smile and stared into the distance for a few minutes. "Charley couldn't stand being called a farmer. I want to be a rancher not a farmer he always said."

Dillon waited for a couple of minutes to give Mr. McCall a chance to compose himself. "Charley talked about his brother's Samuel and John but I didn't realize they were at Manassas too. What happened to your other two sons, if you don't mind my asking?" 

"Samuel was killed during the same charge and Red was wounded but survived."

"Red? Charley said his brothers were Sam and John."

Mr. McCall smiled, "John's his given name but everyone calls him Red. Charley and his mother are the only ones that call him John."

"You said Red was wounded and survived. Did he come back home, I'd like to meet him if he's nearby," Dillon said.

"Yeah, Red came home. He caught a ride with a wagon train somewhere in Oklahoma. He got home and saw the passel of people living here and decided to keep headin west. He went on to Santa Fe with the wagons and then he joined up with Josh Kelly and Jerry Barnes. They decided to go up to Colorado from there."

"I'm glad he made it back Mr. McCall. Do you hear from him at all?"

"Get a letter every month. He and his partners bought a ranch in Chico Basin near a little town name Fountain. He got married to a girl up there and they've got two kids now. We went up to see them little over a year ago." McCall paused and smiled. "The boy's turned into a man with a great family."

Dillon nodded and returned McCall's smile. "Glad he's doing well."

"You're welcome to spend the night Mr. Gallagher. You can share a bed or we'll make you a pallet on the floor if you like. Personally I'd sleep in the barn, the hay in the loft makes a right nice featherbed."

"Thank you for the invitation but I can put a lot of miles in before dark. I think I'll hit the trail," Dillon replied.

"None of my business but where you headed son?"

"Don't really know yet. Heard there's some pretty country around Prescott, Arizona; guess I'll find out when I get there," Dillon said smiling.

The two men shook hands and Dillon mounted Buck and grabbed the lead rope of Buddy. Before he rode off McCall said, "I hope you find what you're looking for son."

Dillon nodded his thanks and turned Buck and Buddy west.

To be continued...



Winterborn Ch. 03



This chapter can be read as a standalone story but it will make more sense and give you the background of the characters and the story line if you read the first two chapters.

As always constructive comments and emails are welcome and appreciated. 

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

I think I'll take a couple of days rest in Albuquerque, Dillon thought as he rode into the town. It was pushing two weeks since he left Amarillo; he, Buck, and Buddy the pack horse had covered a better than 20 miles a day. Dillon hadn't pushed the animals too hard; he wasn't in a hurry. About every third day, he'd ride Buddy and let Buck take it 'easy' carrying the pack saddle and gear.

One reason he had been able to make 20 miles a day, day after day, was that he'd followed the Santa Fe Trail most of the way from Amarillo. The Trail wasn't like a road but was easy going because of the number of wagons, settlers, and freighters that used it. Almost like the roads back in Richmond, Dillon thought with a smile. Where the Trail turned northwest to Santa Fe, he continued west.

Albuquerque isn't a small place, Dillon observed as he rode through the town; the sign on the outskirts said there were six thousand people living there. He found a livery stable on the west side and gave instructions that both horses be bathed, brushed, and fed a grain mash in addition to the sweet hay. They had ridden through some dusty alkaline areas and the horses hadn't really had a chance to take dust baths to clean themselves.

Dillon found a small boarding house nearby and arranged to stay for two nights. If the horses deserve to be pampered, so do I he thought. He'd checked in just in time for supper and joined the other guests after stowing his gear in his room. As he sat at the table looking around he hung his head, smiled and chuckled.

"Something amuse you Mr. Gallagher?" Mr. Jenkins, the owner of the house asked. He was curious about Dillon's smile.

"Just remembering the last boarding house I stayed at," Dillon replied still smiling. "I enjoyed that house very much."

"I hope our place can give you the same service."

Don't hardly think so, Dillon said to himself but responded, "I'm sure you will Mr. Jenkins." Turning to Mrs. Jenkins he said, "This is a fine meal, ma'am. Thank you." After supper, Dillon went to his room. In spite of not riding hard, two weeks on the trail had worn him down some. 

The next morning after breakfast he decided to walk around the west side of Albuquerque and explore. He found a general mercantile and replenished some trail supplies and bought a pair of heavy whip cord work pants. Some his fancier clothes from Wichita Falls were showing some wear.

That evening he decided a visit to a saloon was in order. Although he didn't drink much, a beer or two sounded like a good idea. He had to smile when he walked into the saloon; it was doing a good business and a lot of the customers had the look of cowhands letting off steam. It was a familiar sight to Dillon.

He was standing at the end of the bar with his back to a wall; putting his back to the wall was a habit he'd developed when visiting the saloons as a deputy marshal. There was a cowboy standing to the side of Dillon looking at him intently. Dillon ignored the man's stare and continued drinking his beer and watching the big room.

"Ain't you Deputy Gallagher from over to Wichita Falls?" The cowhand asked with slurred speech that showed that he'd had more than enough to drink that night.

"I'm Gallagher, but I'm not a deputy anymore," Dillon replied without looking at the man.

"My name's Jake Summers. You arrested me and my two brothers one time."

For the first time Dillon turned and faced Summers. "Don't remember you; I arrested a lot of cowboys when they got out of hand. If I did arrest you, you needed to be arrested," Dillon said in a cold flat voice.

"Getting arrested put us on the wrong side of our range boss. He made our life hell all the way to Abilene he did. The high and mighty Mr. Carl Jones fired us when we got to the railhead," the man complained.

"I remember Mr. Jones. You must be one of those boys that gave Pastor Jennings a bad time." Dillon couldn't help but smile thinking about the incident and the aftermath.

"You ought not to have arrested us Deputy. We were just havin a little fun with the reverend," Summers whined. "Maybe it's payback time."

Dillon started to explain the difference between fun and bodily assault but decided it would be a waste of time. Summers' was drunk and angry; the facts weren't going to change his mind.

"You men were lucky to just go to jail; I almost shot all three of you that night. Don't push me too far Mister." Dillon stared at the man with cold dead looking eyes. He pulled the oilskin duster he wore back away from the pistol at his hip. "Walk away and let me be."

"You're gonna pay for that night," Summers shouted. He started to pull his gun. Before he could clear the holster Dillon drew his own pistol and shot; hitting him high in the shoulder.

The bar room became deathly quiet with everyone there staring at the man on the floor and the big man standing over him with a smoking pistol.

Dillon walked to Summers and picked up his pistol. Turning to the bartender and giving him the pistol he said, "Better have someone send for a doctor and the law."

The bartender ordered his swamper to fetch the doctor first and then find the marshal. "It was self defense Mister. That man," the bartender pointed toward the wounded Summers on the floor, "kept pushin you. He tried to kill you."

"Be obliged if you tell the marshal that when he gets here," Dillon said.

It was a few minutes before the doctor came into the saloon. Seeing the man on the floor he began to tend to his wound. After a few minutes he asked a couple of men to get Summers over to his office. The doctor stepped over to Dillon. "You the one that shot him?"

The bartender spoke up and said, "It was self defense Doc. That cowboy was yelling at this man and then pulled his gun."

"I'm Doctor Reynolds. Your .44 sure tore up his shoulder. He won't have use of that arm for a while, Mister...?"

"Dillon Gallagher, Doctor. The .44 usually makes a mess of whatever it hits. But he got off lucky."

"How so Mr. Gallagher?"

"I missed my shot; I meant to hit him in the chest," Dillon answered with a grim smile.

"Well from my point of view, I'm glad you missed your intended target. If you'd hit him in the chest, we'd be calling the undertaker."

As the doctor finished speaking, a large man wearing a marshal's badge on his vest entered the saloon. Spotting Doctor Reynolds he came to join him.

"I heard there was a shooting here, Doc."

"There was. I had the wounded man taken to my office," the doctor said. "Marshal Taylor, this is Mr. Gallagher; he's the man that did the shooting."

The Marshal turned to Dillon and asked, "That right Mr. Gallagher?"

"Yes sir, that man's name is Summers and he tried to kill me. I got him instead."

Again the bartender stepped in. "It was self defense Marshal. That Summers feller kept pushin and proddin at Gallagher here. Then he started for his gun; he never cleared leather."

"Why'd he have it in for you Mr. Gallagher?"

"I arrested Summers and his two brothers while I was the deputy marshal for Tom Ryan in Wichita Falls," Dillon said. He told Marshal Taylor the story of the Summers' brothers and Pastor Jennings. "I thought I was doing them a favor keeping them out of jail; I guess he didn't see it the same way."

"You worked with Tom Ryan?"

"Yes sir, Tom and I are good friends," Dillon answered with a smile.

"You looking for work around here Mr. Gallagher?" 

"No I'm not looking for a job. I'm on my way to Arizona."

Marshal Taylor looked at Dillon for ten seconds or so. "If you see or write to Tom, tell him Bill Taylor said hello please. Tom and I rode in the war together. Take care of yourself Gallagher and good luck on your journey."

Dillon nodded and left. As he walked back to the boarding house he thought about the events in the saloon trying to think if there was any way he could have avoid the fight. Short of letting Summers shoot me, I don't think I could have done anything different he decided. I'm getting too good at shooting people; it's not a talent I want to cultivate.

At daybreak Dillon packed his gear on Buddy and saddled Buck. Time to ride on he thought; before I have to shoot any more people.

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

The previous trek from Amarillo to Albuquerque hadn't been like a Sunday afternoon ride. It had been almost two weeks of riding from sunup to sun down. Possibly for someone, like Dillon, it was the isolation that was the most difficult part of the journey.

To make the trip easier and pass the time, Dillon fell back on a habit he'd picked up during the war; he talked to his horses. During his service with the First Virginian he would often talk to his horse before a battle. It wasn't that Dillon was crazy, it just helped calm his nerves so he could focus; it seemed to help calm his horse too.

So several times during the ride Dillon would talk to Buck and Buddy. Sometimes he quoted poetry to the animals and had one sided discussions about what the poems meant. Sometimes it was the politics of the War Between the States and how the war could have been avoided. Sometimes he would talk about what he wanted to find. And sometimes he told Buddy of his travels and adventures since leaving Richmond; Buddy hadn't been with he and Buck during that time. Neither horse were very good conversationalists but they were both excellent listeners.

As boring and as tiring as the trip to Albuquerque had been, the ride to Arizona was more difficult. The distance from Albuquerque to Prescott meant another week on the trail. A lot of the trip was across desert and high chaparral with fewer water holes; more than one night he made a dry camp. He carried three large canteens on the pack saddle plus his personal one hung on his saddle.

Every water hole he found he made sure all the canteens were full before leaving. His packs contained food for the horses, a mixture of dried oats and corn. Dillon would add a little water to the feed; it helped the horse get some moisture as well feeding them.

Buddy was a big surprise; he was very good at smelling water. Four times he found water holes that Dillon and Buck would have bypassed. The troop wouldn't have died without Buddy's help but his discoveries made the hard journey a lot easier. 

As he got closer to Prescott the elevation change, mountains, wooded hills, and grasslands became the normal landscape. Pretty country Dillon said to himself; it looks like a good place to raise cattle and horses. Three weeks after leaving Albuquerque, Dillon rode into Prescott, Arizona. Riding into town he saw large holding pens for cattle close to the railroad tracks; Prescott's another cow town he thought. 

He found a livery and stabled his horses, making sure the animals got a bath and special feed. The stable owner told Dillon about two good boarding houses nearby; Dillon preferred boarding houses to hotels. At the hotels all you received was the room; sometimes with noisy drunks in adjoining rooms. At the boarding house the cost included two meals a day, breakfast and supper. Usually the guests were more interested in resting than raising hell.

Dillon walked to the nearest boarding house and paid for a week's stay. As he stowed his gear he thought about his money situation. He had about four hundred dollars in gold coins with him and a bank draft from the Wichita Falls bank. Dillon's expenses since leaving Richmond hadn't amounted to much. 

When he worked for Creed Taylor in Texas back in '65, in addition to his wages he got room and board. Dillon wasn't one to go to town and raise hell every month when he got paid so he saved most of his wages. He spent even less while in Mexico. It was an inexpensive place to live and he made very good money as a payroll guard. He'd gained a reputation of getting the payrolls through and was offered a lot of jobs by different mine managers.

In Wichita Falls his room and board was a work benefit as the deputy marshal so again he had few expenses. Even his ammunition and a shotgun were provided. His only real expense was his more elegant way of dressing. As he remembered Mrs. Boudreaux's boarding house and the 'special benefits' he and Emma shared, Dillon laughed knowing he'd never have something like that again. It had been a wonderful part of his life.

Marshall Tom Ryan, his friend and boss, convinced Dillon to open an account at the bank. Tom said one of the few good things about Northern Reconstruction was that the banks were more solid and you could do business from town to town and bank to bank. That's why Dillon had a bank draft for his account instead of carrying gold coins. People were still skittish about paper money but everyone trusted and accepted gold.

I've got a little over three thousand dollars, Dillon thought. That's enough for about three years, even staying in a boarding house. He decided he'd take a little time to see what opportunities were available in Prescott. Dillon wasn't the type to sit around; he needed to put his hand to something. Maybe I'll become a poker dealer in one of the saloons, he thought. No I don't guess so; it'd turn something I like as a past time into a job. I wouldn't get the same enjoyment out of it.

Dillon had learned to play poker while at VMI and he'd become very good at it. He'd honed his skills while working for Creed Taylor and later in Wichita Falls. Several times on his nights off, at least before Emma came into his life, you could find him at a poker table in one of the saloons. He developed a system in Wichita Falls that kept him from losing his shirt during a bad run of cards.

On payday Dillon would take $10 from his wages as a poker stake for the month. At the end of the month anything over the $10 was put into his bank account. He would take $10 and start over again. If he lost his stake he quit playing until the next payday. Dillon usually added money to his account every month. Of course when he and Emma started keeping company the number of evenings spent at the poker tables were drastically reduced.

Dillon's first day in Prescott he went to the barber shop and got a shave, haircut, and a bath. When he was on the trail he usually didn't bother shaving; the water was needed to stay alive. When he did find a good water hole if he had the time he would bath and shave but those times were scarce. He came out of the barbers completely clean and groomed for the first time in almost three weeks. I smell as sweet as lilies of the valley, he said to himself.

His second day he spent exploring Prescott and surrounding country. He wanted to get a feel for the area before he decided if he wanted to stay and what he kind of work he wanted to do. Dillon found out that he could get a job as a stage coach guard or ride guard on freight wagons. He wasn't really interested because it meant a lot of traveling; he was tired of traveling, at least for a while.

His third evening in town he visited one of the saloons. Dillon didn't drink a lot but he wanted a beer and a saloon was a good place to gather information about Prescott. Truth be known he wanted a little company and thought he would try his hand at playing some poker.

Dillon walked into the West Branch saloon and immediately felt at home; it reminded him of the saloons in Wichita Falls. There were several cowhands celebrating the end of a cattle drive and a few of the locals having a week ending drink. He got a beer and walked over to watch one of the poker games. 

He'd been watching for about a quarter of an hour when one of the men at the table spoke to him. "Either sit down and play with the men or go away. You bother me standing there like a vulture."

Dillon returned the man's look for a few seconds and then took an empty chair. When sat down the other four men at the table welcomed him and introduced themselves. The loud mouth said, "Good, another chicken for me to pluck."

"My name's Gallagher," he said to the four men, ignoring the man that'd been making the insulting comments. Dillon had heard the others call the man Jim Knox. He looked at Knox, thinking I've seen your kind before. The man was tall at 6' 3; Dillon guessed he weighed over 225 pounds. He was drinking hard, refilling his glass from a bottle on the table. Jim Knox had a red face and a belligerent attitude, probably from the whiskey Dillon thought.

The game was five card stud or draw poker and it didn't take many hands for Dillon to realize that Jim wasn't a very good poker player. He chased hands in spite of bad odds, called when he should fold, and raised when he should have called at best. Jim won a few hands but Dillon won more. During the whole game Jim continued making remarks about Dillon and the other players. Dillon had gained a small profit and decided that this would be his last hand. Jim had just made an insulting remark about drifters, looking at Dillon as he said it. 

Dillon didn't get angry, he seldom got angry. It's only hurts your chances in bad situations, he believed. He'd learned during war that anger clouded your vision and slowed your reflexes. Even during the gun battles he'd been in since the war, he wasn't angry. Dillon became a cold, calculating man during those times of stress.

The hand was draw poker and Dillon had an inside straight draw. No one had raised the opening bet so Dillon stayed in; it wasn't something he'd normally do but it didn't cost much more than his ante to call. When he saw the card he drew he thought, my luck's good tonight; the card was a seven and filled out his straight.

Up to this point the game had been mostly small stakes, with $30 dollars considered a large pot. The first two men checked and Knox made a large bet of $20. Knox had drawn three cards and Dillon figured he had at best three of a kind so he raised the bet to $40. Two men dropped out and it was up to Knox; he raised another $20. The last two men dropped leaving just Dillon and Knox in the hand.

Dillon had $40 in front of him, "Here's your bet and I raise my last $20."

Knox smiled and said, "Here's you $20 and I raise $50."

One of the men that had dropped out complained, "It's table stakes Jim, you can only call his last $20."

"Shut up Clancy. I say I can raise," Knox said with his hand on his pistol butt. Turning to Dillon he ordered, "Dig for the money or fold your hand drifter."

Dillon felt a cold, calculating calm come over him. It wasn't the money that concerned him; it was the insults and direct challenge from a boisterous drunk like Knox. Maybe I should just walk away Dillon thought, but then again I've never walked away from trouble. Why start now?

He pulled a draw string bag out of the inside pocket of his oilskin duster and asked, "How much you got in front of you Knox?"

Knox looked at Dillon suspiciously, counted his money and answered, "$200 and some change. Why?"

Looking Knox straight in the eye, Dillon said, "Here's you $50 and I raise $300." He counted out the gold double eagles and pushed them into the pot.

"But I don't have $300," Knox said.

Dillon replied, "Dig for it or fold your hand."

Knox was shocked when Dillon threw his own words back in his face. He looked at the other players but they were laughing at him. He finally slumped in his chair, knowing that he had to fold his hand.

"Tell you what Knox, I want to be fair. Call for what you have in front of you," Dillon said. He'd made his point. 

Knox looked at Dillon for a few seconds and pushed all his money into the pot. "Three kings drifter," he said turning over his card and gloating.

"Good hand," Dillon said and when Knox reached for the money he added, "But not good enough. I've got a straight to the nine." He showed his cards and smiled at the look on Knox's face. 




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." 




Winterborn Ch. 03



"You shouldn't have interfered today. That wasn't a very smart thing to do," Cassidy said.

"Look at it this way Mr. Cassidy. I saved Miles there and Sam a terrible beating. If I hadn't have stepped in, they would have had to deal with Oso. I don't think he would have stopped at warning them."

Cassidy was surprised at Dillon's comment. "They were both armed; the two of them could have handled the big man."

Dillon gave Cassidy a smile. "I think that shooting Oso would just make him very angry. An angry Oso is not something I'd want to face." Dillon paused and added, "Get someone else to join your pack Mr. Carpetbagger."

Sheriff Jackson entered the saloon, noticed the tense gathering at the poker table and walked over to the group. "Is there something wrong Mr. Cassidy, Gallagher?"

Dillon smiled at the Sheriff and replied, "Nothing wrong. Mr. Cassidy was just telling me what a big man he is in these parts."

Jackson turned to Cassidy with a questioning look. Cassidy stared at Dillon for a few seconds and said, "No trouble Sheriff. We were just leaving. I'll see you again Gallagher." 

"Look forward to it Mr. Cassidy. Just remember I'm not a 12 year old boy."

"I heard about your run in with Cassidy's men today," the Sheriff said. "Watch yourself Gallagher, Cassidy don't like to be crossed. There's gonna be trouble between you two," Jackson warned.

"Thanks for your concern Sheriff, but I can take care of myself. You might want to warn Cassidy to stay clear of me." Dillon turned and picked up his winnings from the poker game, nodded at Jackson, and left the saloon. Well it's been a real interesting day, he thought. He was a extra watchful on his way back to the boarding house.

Over the next ten days Dillon rode out to several of the ranches in the area looking for work. Most of them were full up and didn't need another hand. The three that expressed an interest quickly changed their minds when they heard that his name was Gallagher. The last one was at least honest with him about his change of heart.

"I don't need no trouble with Cassidy, Mr. Gallagher." At Dillon's puzzled look he continued, "He's put the word out that he wouldn't take kindly to anyone that hires you."

Dillon's reaction to his statement actually scared the rancher. Dillon's eyes seemed to flare and his facial expression reminded the rancher of a big animal on the prowl. After a few seconds Dillon said, "Thanks for being honest, I appreciate it."

Guess that takes care of getting a job on a ranch, Dillon thought as he rode back to Prescott. Maybe I'd better look in another direction. 

Saturday morning Dillon was in the mercantile and the owner told him that he had a letter back in the post office. When he collected the letter he saw it was from his mother. Dillon smiled at the familiar handwriting and looked forward to reading it. He went to the café, got some coffee, and opened the letter.

The first few lines of the letter surprised Dillon. He read that his father's bank had been confiscated by the Northern regulators. Apparently his father saw it coming and sent his personal wealth to his wife in Boston to keep it out of the hands of the carpetbaggers with instructions that if something happened to him that he wanted Dillon to get half of his estate. 

Two months after losing the bank his father was found dead on a back road outside of Richmond; it looked like he'd been thrown by his horse and broke his neck. Mrs. Gallagher wrote that she thought the circumstances surrounding his death were suspicious; as did Dillon. His father never rode horses; he felt it was beneath him and always drove a surrey or a buggy. His mother thought that he was killed when the people that took the bank found Samuel's personal accounts depleted.

Dillon's mother wrote that she would get her bank to forward the funds to Dillon's account at the Prescott Bank; the amount was substantial. The size of the bequest along with the fact that none of the ranchers would hire him altered Dillon's mind about finding work. He decided that he'd just take it easy for a while and see what turned up; at least he didn't have to work if he didn't want to.

The rest of the letter was the normal news and best wishes. Dillon folded the letter, put it away, and started the short ride back to his room. While putting Buck back in his stall he heard loud voices; he couldn't make out what was being said. The two words he did understand were "Greaser" from one voice and "Pendejo" from another. Then there were more shouts and sounds of a fight coming from behind the stable. He stepped through a door in the back wall to investigate.

Dillon saw Oso backed up against the wall of the stable. There were three men facing the big man with a fourth on the ground at Oso's feet. Oso wasn't armed and Dillon saw Cassidy's men brandishing clubs. As Dillon cleared the doorway, Miles turned and threw a club at him.

Ducking the club, Dillon quickly closed the distance between him and the three men. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Oso was also advancing toward them. Miles thinking of the previous confrontation with Dillon panicked and tried to pull his pistol but Dillon grabbed him knocking his hand away from the gun. Dillon backhanded Miles and then delivered a very short right to the man's chin; Miles went down and stayed down. 

Dillon felt the impact of a club across the back of his head and he too went down. As his vision faded he heard the sounds of a shotgun being cocked and a voice said, "That's enough men." Then everything went dark for Dillon. 

To Be Continued... 



Winterborn Ch. 04



Chapter 4 The Conclusion.

By woodmanone  copyright August 2010

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

Dillon faded in and out of consciousness. One time he felt he was lying on a hard surface but could feel it moving. The next time he was on something soft and felt someone applying a cool wet cloth to his forehead. 

Finally he fought his way back from the darkness; he was on a big bed in a room that he didn't recognize. He tried to sit up and was rewarded with a shooting pain in his neck. Dillon fell back and moaned. Damn that hurts, he thought.

The door opened and he saw Oso entering the bedroom. "How are you amigo? You look better than when we brought you here."

"Hola," Dillon replied and then asked, "Where am I and who brought me here? "

Oso smiled, "You're at the Triple E ranch outside Prescott. Senorita Elizabeth insisted that you be brought here until you recover."

The door opened again and an older woman entered. "I see you've rejoined the living Mr. Gallagher. How are you feeling?"

"Aside from a sore neck and a small headache I'm well ma'am."

At the questioning look from Dillon she added, "Where are my manners? I'm Eleanor Edwards and this is our home." She walked over to him. "Let me have a look," Mrs. Edwards said helping Dillon to sit up. She inspected the back of his head and added, "The swelling has gone down and the bleeding has stopped. I think you'll be just fine Mr. Gallagher."

Dillon leaned his back against the headboard and his head began to clear. He looked at Mrs. Edwards and could see where Elizabeth got her eye color and the shape of her face. Her hair was dark brown worn in a French bun. Mrs. Edwards was about 5' 6 and more solidly built than her daughter but still trim. 

Dillon knew she had to be close to forty to have a daughter as old as Elizabeth but Mrs. Edwards looked to be in her early thirties at most. Her confidence and manner reminded him of Emma in some ways.

The door burst open and Ethan charged into the room. "Hi ya Dillon, glad you're awake," the boy said in a loud voice. Ethan was typical of most twelve year olds. He was full of energy and had a difficult time standing still. But there was a sadness around the eyes that surprised Dillon. 

Ethan had the same auburn hair as his sister; his eyes were brown and lively. He was tall for his age with large hands; must take after his father Dillon thought. Ethan will be taller than me when he gets his full growth.

Following at a slower pace, Elizabeth joined the group. She gave Dillon a little smile. "Thank you for helping Oso Mr. Gallagher. It could have gotten very ugly." 

Dillon returned her smile but before he could respond Mrs. Edwards remarked, "It seems you're making a habit of coming to our families rescue Mr. Gallagher." Eleanor's manner of speaking showed that she was an educated woman. "Our own personal Sir Galahad. I understand that you also quote poetry," she said with a grin. "Lord Byron I believe it was."

Returning her grin with a sheepish smile Dillon replied, "It's a nasty habit I picked up in school. Sometimes I can't help myself."

"Oso said you quoted a verse and told him it was a poem. All he could remember was 'She walks in beauty like the night', Elizabeth said.

Embarrassed Dillon looked at Oso with a little frown. "I didn't realize that I spoke aloud. I'm sorry if it offended you Miss Edwards."

Elizabeth blushed a little and replied, "Not at all Mr. Gallagher. With Mother's help I looked up the poem; it's very flattering. Thank you."

Dillon smiled at Elizabeth's blush and turned to Mrs. Edwards. "Ma'am you said that I was a knight, might this knight request a boon from Milady?" Eleanor smiled and nodded. "Could y'all call me Dillon? This Mr. Gallagher stuff makes me feel old."

"My son is already using your given name; I suppose it would be all right for the rest of us too. But you must return the favor, Sir Knight.... Dillon," Eleanor smiled and replied. "Now if you're up to it, get dressed and I'll feed you a ranch breakfast."

For the first time Dillon realized he was wearing a night shirt and not his normal clothes. Now it was his turn to blush. He nodded and the ladies and Ethan left the room; Oso waited to see if Dillon needed help.

"Who undressed me Oso?"

Oso had a grin on his face and said, "Well, Senorita Elizabeth...." He stopped and his grin got bigger at the look on Dillon's face. "Niña told me to put you in one of her father's nightshirts. I undressed you amigo."

"Very funny Oso, very funny," Dillon replied pretending to be upset with the big man. Then a grin spread across his face and gave him away. "How long have I been here?"

"Our adventure was on Saturday and today is Tuesday my friend. You've been fading in and out of it for three days." Oso looked at Dillon for about five seconds, his face grew more serious and said, "Now I have a question for you. Why did you help me? I'm glad that you did, but why?"

Dillon scratched his head and continued to get dressed. As he pulled on his boots he answered, "I guess I've always had a soft spot for an underdog." Looking at Oso he laughed, "I know as big as you are it's hard to say you're an underdog, but you were outnumbered four to one and they had guns."

"Whatever your reasons, thank you amigo. Let's eat. Senora Eleanor makes the best gravy in the county."

Sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee after breakfast, Dillon got his first look at the Triple E; he'd been unconscious when the Edward's brought him to their home. He got up and gingerly stepped out into the yard. Dillon was sore but mostly because of lying in bed for three days and not a result of his injury. 

The ranch house was a rambling one level building. On the left as you faced the house was the main living space. It consisted of two very large rooms; a kitchen and large dining area and separated by a low wall the living room and sitting area. To one side of the living room was a roll topped desk where the ranch business was taken care of.

On the right were the sleeping quarters; five bedrooms joined to the living area with a covered breezeway. There was a big barn and a bunk house about a hundred feet to the west of the house. Dillon remembered that Creed Taylor's place in Texas had been very similar. The house and barn fits in well with the land, Dillon thought. 

The surrounding area was gently rolling hills mostly covered with trees. In between the hills were meadows and grass lands. If the rest of the Triple E is like this, it's a good place to raise stock, Dillon said to himself. Oso joined him in front of the house.

"What happened after I went down? I seem to remember someone telling everyone to stop," Dillon questioned.

"That was Sheriff Jackson," Oso answered. "He stopped the fight and made Cassidy's men leave town. They picked up Miles and the other one and carried them off. Jackson told me after they left that he didn't believe their version of what happened. Then he got Doctor Reynolds to tend to you; the doc treated me also. Senorita Elizabeth arrived about the same time as the doctor."

Dillon hadn't noticed before but Oso had a large cut on the side of his head. Oso continued, "Doc Reynolds said he thought you'd be okay but someone should sit with you for a few days. That's when the senorita told me to get the wagon and that we'd bring you out here to the Triple E."

"Strange name for a ranch."

"Senor Edwards named the place. He said it was for the three treasures in his life; Eleanor, Elizabeth, and Ethan. That's why he called it the Triple E; we brand our stock with three Es."

"Speaking of Mr. Edwards, I haven't met him yet. Is he around or is he away on business?" 

Oso hung his head for a minute. "Senor Edwards was killed four months ago. That cabrón Cassidy had him killed. But we can't prove it. I started to go after Cassidy but Senora Eleanor made me promise not to. She said she didn't want me killed or put in jail."

"Couldn't Sheriff Jackson do anything?" Dillon asked and Oso shook his head no. "Why would Cassidy kill Mr. Edwards?"

"The Sheriff questioned Cassidy but couldn't find any proof. Cassidy wants the Triple E but Senor Edwards wouldn't sell and when he wouldn't, Cassidy had his men kill him."

That explains the sadness in these people, Dillon thought. He stopped questioning Oso to let him compose himself. Then to lighten things up a bit said, "Are you called bear because of you size amigo?"

Oso smiled and replied, "I didn't know you spoke Spanish. No, everybody thinks that but the name was given to me when I was little; my real name is Roberto Rios. My father married a Cheyenne woman; he didn't take her as a squaw, he married her in the Church. We were visiting my mother's people one summer and I wandered away from the camp. I was five at the time." Oso stopped for a bit and smiled remembering happier times.

"My mother and father found me in a clearing playing with two bear cubs. The mother bear was lying nearby watching us. When my parents came into the clearing, she called to her cubs and led them into the forest. My father couldn't believe that the bear had let me play with her cubs. My mother said I was protected by the bear totem. From then on, everyone called me Oso."

Dillon chuckled at the story. "Do your folks live nearby?"

Again Oso hung his head before answering. "My parents were killed in a raid by the Apache on our small ranch. That's when I got this," he said pointing to the scar on his face. "Senor Edwards was riding by the ranch and saw the smoke from the burning house. When he rode into our yard, he found me digging graves for my mother and father. I was ten."

Dillon waited while Oso stared at the skyline. "Senor Edwards gave me a canteen, made me sit in the shade, and he finished the digging. After he buried my folks, he made some crosses out of pieces of fencing. He let me pound them into the ground at the head of each grave and said a prayer over them."

For the first time since Oso began his tale he smiled. "Senor Edwards asked me if I had family he could take me to. I said I had no one so he pulled me up behind him on his horse. That was almost twenty five years ago; I've lived with the Edwards family ever since."

Dillon nodded as Oso finished his tale. "That's why you so attached to the Triple E and its owners. I guess maybe I've become attached to them too."

Oso looked at him and smiled. "Would you like to ride around the ranch? I brought your horses from town and put them in our barn.

After thinking for a minute Dillon said, "Maybe I'd better wait until tomorrow; I'm still a little unsteady." 

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

Three days later Dillon had fully recovered. Oso, Elizabeth, and Dillon rode around the ranch. "How big is the Triple E?" Dillon asked. "I don't remember much about that trip from town. Seems like a nice spread."

Elizabeth smiled and said, "Sometimes it's almost too much. We've got almost 800 acres with grazing rights for another 400; it takes a lot to keep it going."

"Reckon it would take a lot of work," Dillon agreed. "How far is Prescott from here?"

"It's about 10 miles as the crow flies, but we're not crows," Oso answered. "Closer to 13 miles by the trail. There's an old trail through the hills and along a dry river bed that cuts off 3 or 4 miles but it's a hard ride and tough on horses."

Dillon, Oso, and the Edwards spent the evenings after supper on the front porch talking. Dillon had told them about Cassidy poisoning the other ranchers against him.

"I guess I'm going to have to find something else to do," He said.

"We can offer you work on the Triple E, if you've a mind too," Eleanor offered. "But you must understand that Mr. Cassidy won't back off. He's already run off all the hands except for Oso. If you go to work for us, you'll probably have to deal with that unpleasantness."

Dillon hung his head and then smiled. Looking at Eleanor he said, "I'd be proud to work for you ma'am." He paused for a little and continued, "Why is Cassidy so set on getting the Triple E? Is there something special about it? Water or mineral deposits maybe?"

"We have good water on the ranch but nothing extraordinary and nothing of value except grazing land. I asked Cassidy why he wanted our place the third time he made an offer," Eleanor replied. "He said he was building a cattle empire to rival the King Ranch in Texas and we were in his way. He owns most of the ranches on either side of us you know. Maybe he has delusions of grandeur." 

Dillon shook his head; he'd heard and read about many men that talked about building an empire. He offered, "The problem with building an empire is that most empire builders don't last long."

He thought for a moment and then quoted:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
  Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
  Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
 Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
 The lone and level sands stretch far away.'

Eleanor smiled and then chuckled. "You may be right Dillon."

"What?" Oso asked, clearly not understanding the quote. When Dillon explained it to him, he nodded and smiled. "Maybe we can be the ones to destroy that statue."

The next morning Dillon rode back to Prescott; he had several errands to take care of. He wanted to settle his accounts at the stable and the boarding house and get the rest of his gear to transfer it to the Triple E. Dillon also wanted to see if there were more letters from his mother. He told the Edwards that he would return the next day.

Oso wanted to go with him but Dillon talked him out of it. "Cassidy's men won't bother me; they don't know that I'm working for Mrs. Edwards. But they sure know who you are."

Shortly after arriving in town, Dillon had completed his errands. He stopped by to talk to Sheriff Jackson and explained his part in the fight behind the stable. 

"I know that Cassidy's men started things, but I couldn't prove it so I had to let them leave," Jackson said. "Keeping someone from being killed was about the best I could do. You know you knocked out two of Miles' teeth." He paused and added, "Don't go trying to even the score. Let the law handle it."

Dillon nodded his understanding. "I won't go looking for those men or Cassidy." He looked the Sheriff in the eye, "You once said I didn't look like a man that wouldn't turn the other cheek; I'll do it this time. But make no mistake, I won't do it again."

After leaving the Sheriff's office he went back to the hotel and got a room for one night. He had supper in a cafe next door to the West Branch saloon. Dillon knew that after he went to work on the Triple E there wouldn't be many chances for a beer and a little poker. One last fling, Dillon said to himself laughing.

He entered the saloon; after getting a beer he leaned against the end of the bar with a wall at his back. Dillon was watching the two poker games that were going on; wondering if he should sit in or go back to the hotel. He decided to finish his beer and go back to his room so he could get an early start back to the Triple E.

Dillon drained his beer and turned to leave. Both of the swinging doors were pushed opened as Cassidy and three of his men stomped into the saloon. The three hands followed Cassidy toward the bar. Before they got there, Cassidy saw Dillon and came to a halt; he stopped so suddenly that two of his men bumped into him. He turned toward Dillon and started his way.

He saw Cassidy coming toward him and pushed off the bar to face him and his men. The weather had started to cool down as it was late fall and Dillon had started wearing a duster. Very slowly he moved the long coat and uncovered his holstered piston making it seem like a natural motion. He wasn't about to be caught at a disadvantage.

Cassidy came to a stop about five feet from Dillon. "I understand that you're spending time on the Triple E Gallagher. I'm going to own that place soon. Take my advice and leave before I take over. In fact it might be a good idea for you to leave Prescott."

"Thanks for your concern Mr. Cassidy. But I sorta like this area and the Edwards family. Think I'll hang around and see if I can be of any help to them," Dillon replied. "After all they're the ones that took care of me when one of your men hit me with a club from behind."

Before the rancher could reply Dillon notice that Miles was one of the men with Cassidy. "How's your teeth Miles? I understand you lost a few recently," Dillon said and laughed.

Miles went pale and started for his gun but Cassidy grabbed his arm. "You damn fool, can't you see he's ready for you. Go outside and wait with the horses." Turning back to Dillon he said, "You're making a mistake throwin in with the Edwards. I suggest you ride on Gallagher."

"And I suggest you mind your own business Mr. Cassidy," Dillon replied with steel in his voice. He looked at the man with cold eyes. "Let's make it clear Cassidy, if you continue to harass the folks from the Triple E you'll have me to deal with.'

"Is that a threat?" Cassidy asked bristling with anger.

"No sir Mr. Cassidy. That's just what will happen if you don't leave those folks alone."

Cassidy laughed. "There's just you and that big greaser to protect those woman. If it comes to trouble, you're outgunned."

"Maybe so, but most of your boys are just cowhands with guns; I'm a mite better than that. If you try to run Miss Eleanor and her children off, you might just find that we don't run too easy. You might find out that the price you have to pay for the Triple E is very high." Dillon's voice and cold manner made Cassidy stop for a moment.

"I'm leaving now. Appreciate it if you or your men don't follow me out the door," he told Cassidy. 

Dillon left the saloon but never completely turned his back on Cassidy and his men. As he stepped through the swinging doors, Miles was leaning against the hitching rail and stood up. Dillon fixed the man with a cold stare and shook his head. Miles slumped back and Dillon walked past him.

It might be a good idea if I went back to the Triple E tonight, Dillon told himself. I don't think Cassidy will do anything tonight but why take the chance. Dillon got his gear from the hotel, saddled Buck, and rode back to the ranch. He stabled his horse and slipped into the bunkhouse trying to be quiet.

Oso turned up the wick on the coal oil lamp as Dillon closed the door. "I thought you were going to stay in town until tomorrow."

"Sorry to wake you amigo; I'll tell you about it in the morning," Dillon replied and smiled at his friend. "Right now I need to get some sleep and so do you. We've got a full day tomorrow."

"I was sleeping until somebody came stomping in to the bunkhouse," Oso grumbled.

The next morning after breakfast the men rode out to round up some of the cattle. Eleanor had agreed with Dillon's suggestion that the stock be kept closer in. She said it was time to bring them down from the high country grazing anyway. As they drove the cattle back toward the meadow just to the east of the main house, Dillon told Oso about running into Cassidy.

"I don't think Mr. Cassidy likes the fact that I'm working on the Triple E. In fact I don't think Cassidy likes me very much."

Oso laughed for a bit then sobered and said, "You know it could get nasty Dillon; you don't owe us anything. Are you sure you want to get involved?"

The cattle had reached the meadow and Dillon stopped Buck. Turning to Oso he said, "I'm already a part of this my friend. I got involved when I saw Cassidy's men rough up Ethan, I got involved when those four jumped you, and I got involved when Elizabeth decided to take care of me."

"But that was mostly you helping us. Why should you face the storm that's coming?"

Dillon got a faraway look in his eyes and he stared at the cattle as they settled down. "I did things in the war that I'm not proud of; they were necessary but I'm still not proud of them. I regret having to kill the men that I have, both during the war and afterwards." He stopped for a minute remembering.




Winterborn Ch. 04



"But I've always done what had to be done. Helping the Edwards is something that has to be done; at least in my mind. I can't let that Yankee carpetbagger hurt these folks; he did enough of that back in Virginia." Dillon's voice had become hard and his eyes looked like blue steel. 

"I'm sorry amigo, I don't understand, what was it you said...Yankee carpetbagger?" Oso said. Dillon explained the term and Cassidy's history. 

Oso waited for a little as Dillon continued to study the skyline and then suggested they head back. "It's about lunch time."

"Don't you ever think about anything but food, you big bear?" Dillon laughed as he shook off his somber mood and turned Buck toward the ranch house.

After lunch Dillon told Eleanor that they should have a discussion after supper concerning the troubles with Cassidy. The rest of the afternoon the whole group worked around the house and barn. There's always something that needs doing around a ranch, Dillon thought as he mended the corral attached to the barn.

Supper was over, the after the meal coffee was poured, and everyone gathered around the big table for a talk about the future. Eleanor, Elizabeth, Ethan, and Oso waited for Dillon to start the discussion; after all he was the one that had suggested the powwow.

"Miss Eleanor it's time you knew more about me; before this trouble with Cassidy gets any worse," Dillon started. He went on to tell about his service in the First Virginia Cavalry, his decision not to return home after the war and why, and his hatred of what the North forced on the southern states.

"My reasons for opposing Cassidy run deeper than not wanting to see a nice family run off their place. If I stay Cassidy may come down on you all the harder because I'm here. He was a Northern regulator in Virginia which gives me all the more reason to hate him. Cassidy knows how I feel about him and his kind." Dillon paused looking at Eleanor and the rest of them and added, "If you want me to leave, I'll understand. Things are apt to get real nasty around here."

"I know most of your history Dillon," Eleanor replied. "Charley Jackson told me after he got that telegram from Marshal Ryan." 

Dillon was surprise and a little angry that Jackson would talk about him behind his back. Before he could say anything Eleanor continued.

"Oh, don't blame Charley too much Dillon. He hardly knows you; my husband John and I have been close friends with Charley for years. He wasn't gossiping about you son, he was warning me what kind of man I was hiring. Understand?"

Dillon nodded and relaxed. Eleanor added, "As you said, this situation could get very bad. But I won't be forced off this damned ranch by Cassidy or anyone else." She looked Dillon in the eye and said, "We, my family and I are prepared to fight to the end if necessary. Are you sure you want to commit to what amounts to a war?"

He returned Eleanor's look, paused for a few seconds and said, "You said this damned ranch. I don't understand that."

Eleanor gave him a sad smile and replied, "I don't really care for the life of a rancher Dillon, I wanted to live closer to town and teach school again." At his surprised look she continued, "I stayed because John worked hard to build a life for us here and a wife's place is at her husband' side. I won't let someone walk all over his legacy." Now Eleanor paused for a few seconds.

"Even if Cassidy had made us a reasonable offer, I wouldn't have sold the Triple E to him after what happened to John. He killed my husband and then tried scaring us off the place. His next offer was not much more than traveling money. As I said, we won't be forced off our place by Cassidy."

Elizabeth, Ethan, and Oso all nodded in agreement. Dillon had a smile of his own that didn't extend to his eyes. "Looks like Mr. Carpetbagger Cassidy has a fight on his hands don't it?"

He and Oso started toward the bunkhouse. Dillon decided to check on his horses, especially his pack horse. Buddy hadn't received much attention for the last few days. As he led the gentle horse from his stall and currycombed him, he saw Elizabeth entering the barn.

Dillon nodded at her and she came over and stroked and rubbed Buddy's face. "You're an educated man aren't you Dillon? I mean with the poetry quotes and all, I'm sure you had more schooling than most."

"I guess you could call me educated. VMI did teach more than just battle tactics." He smiled and admitted, "I developed a fondness for poetry. It's sort of a strange way of relaxing for a young man planning on being a cavalry officer." Dillon looked at Elizabeth in the lamp light and again felt his interest in the young woman.

"Momma taught us at home you know, I guess once a school teacher always a school teacher. She can't get Ethan interested in more than just learning to read and write and a little arithmetic. Momma could tell that I wanted more so she introduced me to several subjects."


"Like what?" Dillon asked more to keep her talking than anything; he was enjoying her company.

"I've read some philosophy, and ancient history," Elizabeth answered. Then with a chuckle she added, "I've even read some poetry. Mostly Elizabeth Barrett Browning. You know 'How do I love thee'," she said blushing.

"I'm impressed Elizabeth. My favorites are Shelley and Byron." 

Oso stuck his head inside the door. "I'm gonna take a walk around and then turn in. See you later Dillon," he said pointedly looking at Elizabeth.

She chuckled, "Oso is always trying to protect me." Then softly to herself she said, "Sometimes I wished he'd mind his own business."

Now Dillon chuckled and said, "He's right. You're much too lovely to be alone with a man in a barn. For some, the temptation would be too great."

"I'm 21 and full grown Dillon. I can go and do what I want and take care of myself thank you, she said with a smile. Dillon continued brushing Buddy and after a minute Elizabeth softly asked, ""Are you such a gentleman that you can resist temptation Dillon?"

He stopped working on his horse and looked at her. Sighing Dillon said, "Elizabeth, I'm not a good prospect, if that's what you thinking. I've got a price on my head in San Antonio and in Laredo. Men have challenged me and died for it. I'm not a nice person Elizabeth. You deserve some young man who doesn't have to look over his shoulder."

"Ha, the boys and men around here think I'm too much of a tom boy to be interested," she replied. "They all want a woman that will sit at home waiting for them and jump at their beck and call. I won't be a simpering fool for any man. When I marry I plan on being a full partner with my husband."

Dillon had to smile at the passion in her voice. She certainly would be a handful, he thought. But she would be damn well worth the trouble. Stop it, he told himself. I might not live through what's coming and if I do she deserves better than me.

Elizabeth stepped around Buddy and faced Dillon. "As far as what you said about yourself, I disagree. I think you are a good person. I saw it when you protected Ethan and again when you helped Oso. Besides, it's not your decision Mr. Gallagher. It's mine." With that she put her arms around Dillon's neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him.

Before he could react she stepped back and walked toward the door. "Temptation can be very hard to resist, can't it Dillon." Elizabeth left laughing at the look on Dillon's face.

"Guess that's plain enough," Dillon said out loud. "Buddy have you even seen such a woman?" The horse shook his head as if to agree that Elizabeth was something special. Dillon put Buddy back in his stall and walked over to the bunkhouse. That sure puts a different twist to things, he said to himself. As he entered Oso sat up in bed.

"I don't want to see Elizabeth hurt Dillon," the big man said.

"Neither do I amigo, but I don't think what you and I want plays into it," Dillon replied chuckling. "Elizabeth is pretty much her own person. All we can do is keep our heads down and hope we don't get in her way." Dillon got serious and continued, "I won't hurt her Oso; I promise." 

The next day Dillon, Oso and Elizabeth inspected the land surrounding the ranch house and out buildings. Dillon planned on developing several defensive positions in case Cassidy and his men made a raid on the ranch. 

As they ate lunch Dillon suggested several things. "It's getting on to winter and I don't think Cassidy will try anything out here before spring. Town's a different matter though. From now on I think we should go to town together." He saw nods of understanding from everyone. 

Dillon looked at Eleanor. "I don't mean to take over but I've got some experience in this area." She nodded and he continued, "Before spring I'd like all of you to be able to handle a gun, if you don't already. You too Ethan."

Eleanor spoke up, "If it looks like trouble is coming, I'll send Ethan to stay with Sheriff Jackson and his wife. I've already talked to Charley about it. I'd like for Elizabeth to go too but I don't think there's much chance of getting her to behave like a lady." Eleanor smiled at her daughter. Looking at Oso she added, "I know I can't get my oldest boy to leave either."

Oso beamed at Eleanor's words. He knew that he'd been adopted by the Edwards, if not legally at least in their hearts and minds but it was nice to hear anyway.

Dillon nodded his understanding but warned, "There may not be time to send Ethan into town; he should be able to protect himself just in case. There are some other things we can do over the winter; we can talk about them later."

"How long will we have to live like this, waiting for Cassidy to do something?" Elizabeth asked. "It's like being under siege."

"Cassidy won't do any more than try to rough us in town. If he does something illegal and out in the open we can get the Territorial Marshal involved," Dillon answered. "If trouble comes it will probably be out here on the ranch away from witnesses. I don't know if he's prepared to kill but we'll just have to defend ourselves and hold out." He grinned adding, "Of course he could change his mind about getting hold of the Triple E."

The short laughs, snorts, and chuckles showed that no one believed Cassidy would give up trying to get the ranch.

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

By mid April as spring pushed the winter away, there had been several changes at the ranch and in their lives. The winters in Prescott were not severe. It seldom got below 20 degrees and there wasn't a lot of snow. In January there was a sort of blizzard out of the north, leaving a foot of snow on the ground. Two days after the storm the weather was warm and sunny; most of the snow melted.

During those five months, they had dug a short tunnel under the back wall of the bunkhouse. It had only one door and the tunnel would allow anyone trapped in the bunkhouse to get out. They cut a trap door in the wooden floor, setting a rug and a table over the escape route. 

"Like a rabbit always has two or three ways out of his tunnel," Ethan observed.

Just like that," Dillon replied. "We can cover the holes with brush to hide them."

Up at the main house there was already a trap door that led to a root cellar. They cut through the wall of the cellar to provide another escape route. Dillon had a local carpenter make some four inch thick shutters for the ranch house windows. They had a cross shaped firing ports cut in them. If they got pinned down in the house they would be able to defend themselves by using the ports to shoot through.

Dillon hid rifles wrapped in oil skin in several places around the main house and out buildings. If they got caught outside of the house or the bunkhouse they wouldn't be without weapons.

On one of the supply runs Dillon bought two Winchester rifles, three Remington New Model Army pistols and two Greener 10 gauge coach guns. He also bought several boxes of cartridges for each to add to the arsenal at the ranch. There were two cowhands in the gun smith's who Dillon thought were Cassidy's men. He made it a point to tell the gun smith in a loud voice that the weapons were for the Triple E.

Eleanor questioned him about letting Cassidy's men know that the Triple E was well armed. "I want Cassidy to know what he'll be facing if he comes after us," Dillon explained with a grim smile. "Now he knows he's not facing just one rifle; it might cause him to rethink any plans of raiding the ranch."

One morning Dillon asked Ethan to take a walk with him. As they got to the back of the house Dillon stopped. "Ethan, I'm going to give you a job. Early every morning I want you to tie a saddled horse here at the entrance to the root cellar. If we get raided your job will be to get to that horse and ride for town to get Sheriff Jackson."

Dillon could see that the youngster wasn't sure about leaving his family during a raid. "You can ride the ten miles or so into town faster than your mother or sister and Oso and I have to stay here. You're the best one for the job Ethan. Understand?"

Ethan nodded and then felt proud that he'd been chosen for this important mission. As he went toward the barn, Eleanor stepped around the side of the house.

"That was a nice thing to do Dillon," she said.

"I doubt that we'll know a raid is coming until it happens so this seemed to be the best way to get the boy out of harm's way. Do you think I could get you and Elizabeth to go with him?" When Eleanor shook her head no he added, "I didn't think so."

Normally a trip to town to get supplies was done on a Saturday; Dillon changed the supply run to a different day of the week. Less chance of running into Cassidy's men during the week, Dillon thought. Dillon, Oso, and the Edwards did all the shopping and errands together. From getting supplies from various stores, picking up and sending mail, and having the horses reshod was done as a group. Even going to church twice a month was done together.

On one trip the whole crew was in the mercantile and Eleanor and Elizabeth bought some ladies undergarments. Following Dillon's advice they were all together and the two men were embarrassed as the ladies discussed the merits and sizes of the items. Ethan was looking at the case holding candy and wasn't involved. The ladies teased the men about their red faces for days afterwards.

During the winter months and into spring, Elizabeth continued to flirt and tease Dillon. I don't know how much more of this I can take, Dillon said to himself. One morning he spoke to Eleanor about the problem.

Explaining what Elizabeth had been doing he said, "I don't want to cause any more problems than you already have but do you think you could talk to her and get her to leave me alone?" Eleanor laughed and smiled at the pleading tone Dillon used.

"I could speak to her but it wouldn't do any good Dillon. As you've noticed Elizabeth is a very independent young woman." Eleanor paused, looking at him for a moment. "The only way to make her stop is for you to tell her you're not interested. Don't tell her you're not good for her like you did before; it only makes her want you more. Tell her flat out that you don't want her."

Dillon stood looking at Eleanor for a bit and with a sad smile replied, "I try not to lie if I can help it....... No, I couldn't rightly tell her that. Guess I'll just have to put up with her, for awhile anyway." He turned and went back to the barn.

Eleanor smiled at his back as he walked away. That poor young man doesn't even know he's been roped yet, she thought. He'll make a fine addition to the family; if we make it through this trouble.

Setting up defensive positions wasn't the only thing that had to be done. The Triple E was a cattle ranch and the stock still had to be tended. The cattle had already been brought down from the summer grazing in the high country and were closer to the house. Every couple of days they had to be checked in case any problems arose.

Dillon and Elizabeth were checking on the cattle and the spring calves in the meadow farthest from the house. They had separated riding around the small herd when Elizabeth whistled shrilly getting Dillon's attention on the other side of the meadow; she motioned for him to join her. He rode around the herd to Elizabeth and she pointed at some tracks in the soft earth.

"Looks like three horses and about twenty head of cattle moved off toward the pass there," Dillon said pointing to a low area between two large hills. "I think someone's helping themselves to Triple E cattle."

Elizabeth nodded and said, "Let's follow them. Maybe we can catch them before they get off the ranch."

"I'll follow them, you ride back and tell Oso where I'm headed," Dillon ordered.

"Mr. Gallagher, you forget yourself. You work for us, remember?" She asked with a little grin. "If you want Oso's help, you go for him. I'm going to follow these tracks and see who's taking our cattle." With that Elizabeth kicked her horse into a lope and followed the trail.

As she rode away, Dillon shook his head. Like I said he thought, she's a handful. Smiling he turned Buck in the same direction and quickly caught up to Elizabeth. "Okay Miss Edwards, you're the boss. But if it looks like things are going to get rough you have to head back."

"But......" Elizabeth started. Dillon interrupted her.

"It's either that way or I'll tie you across your saddle and lead you back myself," he said very seriously. "I won't let you get yourself shot over a few head of cattle. Your choice Miss Edwards."

Elizabeth stared at him for about ten seconds and asked, "You'd really do that wouldn't you?" When Dillon nodded she sighed and said, "Okay, I promise I'll behave. She smiled and added softly, "This time anyway."

Following the tracks it was evident that the riders were pushing the cattle toward the pass. Motioning for Elizabeth to follow him, Dillon rode around the slow moving cattle keeping out of sight. They arrived at the pass about twenty minutes before the stolen cattle did.

"No more games Elizabeth. You stay on your horse just over the crest of the pass and if shooting starts you use your spurs and get back to the ranch. Tell Oso where I am and what's happening but you stay at the ranch. Understand?"

"Dillon I think I can......."

"No arguments girl. This isn't a game. These rustlers won't care that you're a woman; they'll just want to get away. I won't be responsible for you getting shot. It would hurt Eleanor too much," Dillon said. And me too, he added to himself.

She nodded and moved her horse below the pass. Dillon left Buck ground tied, pulled his rifle out of the scabbard and went back to the crest of the trail. As the three men and the cattle got closer Dillon could pick out the Triple E branded on the cattle's rumps. One man was on each side of the herd with the third riding drag to push the cattle along.

When the men got with a hundred feet Dillon stood in the middle of the pass. "Stop right there," he shouted. "Those are Triple E cattle and you're guilty of rustling. I'll give you five seconds to drop your guns and dismount."

The men stopped seeing Dillon with a rifle aimed in their direction. "There's only one of you Mister and three of us. You might get one of us but not all three," one of the men yelled back. He started to say more but stopped as another figure with a rifle came to stand on the other side of the pass.

Dillon sensed the movement and knew it had to be Elizabeth. He quickly glanced her way and saw she had put her hair up under her hat. At that distance from the three rustlers they couldn't tell that it was a young woman. All they saw was their chances of getting away go downhill.

The man on Dillon's right said, "Aw hell" and pulled his pistol. He took a shot at Dillon and the other 'man' standing in the pass. Before he could turn his horse Dillon's rifle shot rang out and the rustler was knocked out of the saddle.




Winterborn Ch. 04



He turned toward the other two but they were riding like hell and were quickly out of range. Dillon mounted Buck and went to examine the downed man. The bullet had hit the man in the head; there was no doubt that he was dead. As he stood up, Elizabeth rode up and dismounted.

Dillon was still keyed up from the short gun battle and grabbed Elizabeth by both shoulders. "I told you to stay mounted and out of sight," he said shaking her. "You could have been killed."

When he stopped shaking her Elizabeth slowly raised one hand and touched his cheek. "Would it have mattered to you so much if I had been Dillon?" She looked up at him as she asked the question.

Hell, Dillon said to himself. He pulled her into his arms, leaned down, and kissed her. Elizabeth put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. They kissed for what seemed forever to them but was actually only a couple of minutes.

They stepped away from each other, but not very far and Dillon slid his hands back to Elizabeth's shoulders. "I wasn't sure that you did," she said.

"Did what?"

"Love me. You haven't given any indication that you did until just now."

Dillon looked at her for a few seconds, shook his head, and smiled. "Ya I do. In spite of trying not to, I do love you."

This time it was Elizabeth that pulled Dillon to her. After another long kiss Dillon stepped back and said, "C'mon we need to get the cattle back." When she frowned Dillon kissed her on the nose. "I'll put him," he said pointing to the dead man, "on his horse. You can take him to the ranch, I'm going to trail the other two and make sure they don't double back."

Elizabeth held the horse as Dillon tied the man across his saddle. "What about the cattle?" She asked.

"You head them back to the ranch; once you get them started they'll wander toward the rest of the herd. We're not that far away. When I get back, we'll all make a trip into town and turn that one over to the Sheriff." Dillon kissed Elizabeth again just before she mounted. "Get going now," he ordered smiling at her.

"Yes sir, Mr. Gallagher, sir," she replied with a smile of her own.

Dillon watched her until a turn in the trail took her out of sight. Mounting Buck he headed north following the trail of the two remaining rustlers. After thirty minutes he lost the trail in some rocky shale. I can't be sure but I think their headed for Cassidy's spread, he thought.

It took a little over an hour for Dillon to get back to the ranch house. When he rode in he saw the horse with the dead man draped across the saddle tied to the corral fence. Everyone came out to meet him; when he dismounted Elizabeth ran over and put her arms around his waist. Well that pretty well lets the cat out of the bag Dillon thought and then smiled at her. 

After a later breakfast the riders of the Triple E rode into town, leading the horse with a dead man across the saddle. They found Sheriff Jackson as he came out of his office. Dillon turned the man over to Jackson and explained what happened. 

"Isn't that one of Cassidy's men?" Dillon asked with a cold tone.

"Believe he is or was I should say. Think I'll ride out and have a talk with Mr. Cassidy," Jackson replied. "I'll take him to the undertakers and ride out to the Circle C tomorrow morning."

Eleanor suggested that they pick up their supplies that day. She also said they should stay the night at the hotel because they'd got such a late start for town. Smiling she added, "We can have supper at the café. It'll be nice to let someone else do the cooking for a change."

The next morning at 9 they met in the lobby of the hotel. Everyone was there except Elizabeth. "Where's Elizabeth?" Dillon asked. "Is she still getting dressed?"

The desk clerk spoke up saying, "Miss Edwards said to tell you she was over to the general store if you came down before she got back. She said she forgot something yesterday?"

"I'll go meet her," Dillon said to Eleanor. "Y'all get the horses and meet us at the mercantile." He quickly walked out of the hotel and toward the store. Dillon wasn't running but was walking much faster than normal. He had a bad feeling about Elizabeth being alone. 

Just before he got to the mercantile he passed a gangway between two buildings and heard an angry shout and a woman's muffled outcry. He hurried down the gangway until it ended in a small space bordered by two buildings and a fence.

Elizabeth was being held from behind by a man who was struggling to keep her under control. Facing her was another man that Dillon recognized as one of Cassidy's riders; a man named Riley. The men hadn't noticed Dillon yet.

"We gonna rough you up a bit girl," Riley said. "And you can tell Gallagher he's next."

"Tell me yourself Riley. I'm right here," Dillon said with steel in his voice.

Riley spotted Dillon for the first time and the man holding Elizabeth turned his head toward Dillon. As he turned, Elizabeth stomped down on his right foot with her boot heel. He released the girl and bent over to grab his foot. When he bent over, Elizabeth kneed the man in the face. He went down with blood spurting from his nose.

She reached down and pulled a knife from her boot and turned to face Riley. As she turned, he backhanded her across her face knocking her to the ground. Before Riley could get set, Dillon was on him. With a roar, he picked the man up and threw him into a wall and as Riley bounced off Dillon met him with a left uppercut and then a short right hand. Riley fell to the ground.

Dillon turned as the first man got to his knees and began to stand up. Two quick steps brought Dillon close enough to kick him in the head. The man went down again and stayed there. Dillon turned back to Riley as he stood and knocked him back into the wall again. When Riley hit the wall he drew his pistol but before he could get it up Dillon pulled his own pistol and brought the barrel down across the man's forearm. 

The blow broke Riley's arm and he dropped his gun. Dillon holstered his weapon and hit Riley with another right hand. As the man fell back against the wall Dillon followed him in and began to hit him with both hands. Every time Riley started fall or sag Dillon would pull him upright, prop him against the wall, and hit him again and again.

Oso came running down the gangway and shouted at Dillon. "You're going to kill him Dillon."

Dillon was in a battle rage and didn't hear his friend. He had been cold and collected when he saw the two men holding Elizabeth. But when Riley hit her, Dillon's only thought was to make the man pay dearly for hurting her. 

Oso was afraid that Dillon was going to beat the man to death so he stepped over and grabbed Dillon in his big arms and held him. He didn't care about Riley but he didn't want Dillon to go to jail for murder. Oso picked Dillon up off his feet and started walking backwards away from Riley. As soon as Oso stopped Dillon, Riley fell to the ground; his face was a bloody mess.

Dillon was so far into his rage that he didn't realize it was Oso holding him. He slipped his hand down and started to draw his pistol. Elizabeth had regained her feet and stepped in front of Dillon.

"I'm okay Dillon, I'm okay," she said as she put her hand on his to stop him from drawing his gun. "That's Oso holding you. It's okay you can stop fighting now. I'm okay Dillon."

Elizabeth's voice and her hand on his got through to Dillon and he stopped struggling. His eyes came back into focus and he saw Elizabeth in front of him. Dillon shook his head to clear it and as he relaxed Oso let him go. Dillon slumped and almost fell before catching himself.

He put his hand on the side of Elizabeth's face, frowning at the cut on her cheek. Dillon looked at the two men on the ground and sighed. "Better send for the Sheriff," he said to Oso. 

The big man examined both the downed men. "They're not a pretty sight but they're still breathing." He patted Dillon on the back and left to fetch Jackson.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asked as she stepped into Dillon looking him in his eyes as she put her arms around his waist.

Dillon nodded his head slowly and looked at the two men. "I've never felt like that before." He took a deep breath and looked down at Elizabeth. "I was ready for trouble when I came back here. But when Riley hit you I lost all control. All I wanted to do was kill them with my bare hands."

Elizabeth leaned up and kissed him. "Thank you Sir Knight for saving me," she said with a smile.

Before Dillon could respond, Eleanor and Ethan came to join them. Both were carrying a shotgun held at the ready. Eleanor took in the situation asked, "Are you two okay? Where's Oso?"

"I'm right here Senora," Oso answered as he walked down the gangway. Sheriff Jackson was with him.

Jackson saw the two men on the ground and examined them to see if they were alive. He came back to Dillon and Elizabeth and asked if they were okay. Before they could answer he yelled at one of the people standing at the entrance to the gangway to fetch Doc Reynolds. Turning back he handed Dillon a hip flask.

"Medicinal whiskey," Jackson said. "Looks like you both could use a dose." At the surprised looks from them, he smiled saying, "I always carry a little taste; you never know when you'll need it." 

Dillon returned the smile and handed the flask to Elizabeth. She took a healthy dose of the medicine and Dillon did the same. Jackson motioned to Oso and the big man decided he needed the medicine too and took a drink. Oso handed the flask back to the Sheriff.

Jackson said, "Sometimes I feel the need for a dose too." He took a drink from the flask and put it away. "Now, y'all care to tell me what happened here?"

"These two grabbed me as I was coming out of the mercantile and pulled back here," Elizabeth said. "They said they were going to rough me up to persuade us to leave. That's when Dillon showed up." As she talked she took several steps back toward the man that had been holding her and squatted down near him.

Dillon thought she was going to be sick or was hurt more than they thought and took two steps toward her. Eleanor came toward her also. Elizabeth held up her hand stopping them and stood up. She held up her knife to Dillon and smiled. Wiping the knife on her riding skirt she put in back into her boot.

"Didn't want to forget that," she said. Continuing her story she explained that Dillon distracting the men allowed her to get away from the one holding her. "The other one tried to draw his gun and Dillon was forced to stop him. That's about it Mr. Jackson."

"That right Dillon? Riley drew on you."

Before Dillon could answer Doctor Reynolds came hurrying down the gangway with the coat tails of his frock coat streaming out behind him. Doctor Reynolds was 5' 6, squat, and grizzled. He was close to 60 years old with a flowing grey mustache and sideburns. He looks more like a banker or store keeper, Dillon thought. He had to smile at the picture. Doc Reynolds' assistant trailed behind him. 

He motioned to his assistant and they each looked at one of the men on the ground. After a short examination the doctor came back to Elizabeth and looked at her.

"Hello Elizabeth my dear. Been playing a little rough have we?" He smiled and looked up at her; she was almost three inches taller than the doctor. His smile faded when he saw her face. Elizabeth had a cut on her cheek, a split lip, and the whole side of her face was red and beginning to swell where Riley hit her.

"Don't worry little one, you'll be fine," Reynolds said reassuring her, Eleanor, and mostly Dillon. "You'll have a hell of a bruise, excuse my language, on the side of your face. We need to get a cool wet rag on that cheek. The cuts will heal up just fine without leaving a scar." He turned to Eleanor. "Make sure you treat those cuts with coal oil Eleanor," he ordered. "Now Mr. Gallagher let's have a look at you."

"I'm okay Doc," Dillon objected.

"Do you normally walk around with blood on your hands young man?" Reynolds said pointing.

Dillon held his hands up and saw several cuts oozing blood. His hands were also beginning to swell. "I never noticed them," he said to the doctor.

Reynolds turned to Jackson and said, "Give me that flask you always carry Charley." He shook the flask to see how much was in it, took a big drink, and poured the rest of it on Dillon's hands. Dillon gasped and winced at the sting of the whiskey. 

"Same for his hands Eleanor. Treat them with coal oil a couple of times a day. It'll stop infection and help them heal," he ordered. "Jacob get someone to help you get these two over to my office," he ordered his assistant. "Good bye all," he said and walked away.

Sheriff Jackson shook his empty flask and watched the doctor scurry away. Turning to Dillon he said, "As you know the Edwards and I are good friends, have been for years. Thank you for helping them; that makes you a friend also. My given name is Charley."

"Yes sir, I know. And I'd be happy to consider you as a friend."

"Good. I have a question for you, not as the Sheriff but as your friend." Dillon nodded and Charley asked, "Did you have to beat them so bad?" 

"Between friends Charley?" This time Charley nodded and Dillon added, "When I saw Riley hit Elizabeth, I got crazy mad. I lost control and if Oso hadn't pulled me off, I would have killed him."

Charley looked at Elizabeth and Dillon and saw that they were never separated by more than arms length. When they looked at each other, their eyes told the whole story. He said with a grin, "Remind me not to get you that riled up."

Dillon returned the grin and said, "Now I've got a question for you. Riley and probably this other one works for Cassidy. So did the rustler I shot. Have you talked to Cassidy?"

Charley bristled for a second and then realized that Dillon wasn't criticizing him, he just wanted information. "I did talk to him. Cassidy said that he'd fired that rustler and two others a couple of weeks before. And I bet when I talk to him about Riley and Marsh, he'll either say he fired them or that they acted on their own. Our Mr. Cassidy is very slippery."

Dillon's eyes blazed for a second and Charley added "Don't go off half cocked Dillon. If you do something outside the law I'd have to come after you. I wouldn't want to have to do that. Besides you've got a reason not to hit the outlaw trail now." Charley pointed at Elizabeth. 

"Y'all get out of here now I've got things to do. As soon as Doc tends to them I've got two prisoners to jail. The circuit judge will be here in two weeks. I think those boys will be guests at the Territorial Prison for quite a spell. "

Oso mumbled something to himself about letting the men go so he could deal with them. "I'll give you the same advice I gave Dillon, Oso. Don't do anything outside the law," Jackson said.

Ethan brought up the horses and they started back to the ranch. On the ride home the only way Elizabeth and Dillon couldn't have been any closer is if they'd been on the same horse. They rode side by side and talked quietly for most of the ten miles back to the Triple E.

That evening after supper they had their almost daily meeting to discuss their plans and the situation. Dillon had thought of something on the way back from town. 

"Cassidy must be getting impatient, he's pushing harder to get you to sell out, Eleanor." Dillon paused and then asked, "There's five bedrooms in the house, right Eleanor?" She nodded and Dillon said, "I think Oso should bunk in the house. If a raid comes both he and I could get cornered in the bunkhouse which leaves you all alone. Oso and I can take turns standing four hour watches at night."

Oso went to the bunkhouse to get some of his things. Dillon said good night to Eleanor and Ethan. Elizabeth walked with him to the end of the breezeway and kissed him good night. Dillon passed Oso on his way to the bunkhouse and said, "Hang a shirt or something out of the window so I'll know which bedroom is yours. I can knock on the window when it's your watch."

"Want me to take the first watch, amigo?"

"No, I'm still worked up over what went on in town. I don't think I could sleep anyway so I'll take the first watch and wake you when I get tired. Okay?" Oso nodded and continued on to the ranch house.

Dillon had a lot to think about as he walked around the bunkhouse, barn, and main house during his watch. He was concerned about his loss of control in town. I almost killed Riley and didn't realize it, he thought. His thoughts went from the fight to Elizabeth. I love her he told himself with a little smile. Emma and I had something special but I never felt this way about her. I knew that someday we'd go our own way but I can't picture not being with Elizabeth.

For four hours Dillon prowled around the area. He was still keyed up so he let Oso sleep and continued on watch. Dillon finally put his mind at ease and calmed down around 3 AM; he been on watch for seven hours. He knocked on Oso's window and joined the big man as he came out of the house.

"Why didn't you wake me sooner?" Oso asked.

"I couldn't sleep. No need for both of us to miss our beauty sleep," Dillon replied. "And in your case you need as much beauty sleep as you can get."

Oso pretended to be hurt, laughed and asked, "What time do you want me to wake you?"

"Let me sleep until 7 or so. I don't want to miss out on one of Eleanor's breakfast. Tonight you can have the first watch."

That evening after supper, Dillon was stuffed with Eleanor's good cooking and he had trouble staying awake. He laughed at himself thinking, I can't run all night every night anymore. Must be getting old. Dillon said good night around 8 and went to the bunkhouse leaving Oso to stand the first watch. He could see the path to the bunkhouse very easily because of the full moon. 

Comanche Moon is what the folks in Texas call it Dillon remembered. The Comanche like to attack by the light. If Cassidy raids the ranch I hope he does it under a full moon; it makes it easier to see them. He undressed and climbed into his bed. Won't have any trouble sleeping tonight, he thought just before he closed his eyes.

A couple of hours later Dillon heard the door to the bunkhouse open; it had one squeaky hinge. He reached down slowly and picked up the pistol that he had laid on the floor next to his bed. Dillon could see a figure in the doorway backlit by the light from the full moon.

"Stand where you are. I've got the drop on you," he said cocking his pistol. He reached over to the lamp and turned up the wick. The light from the lamp allowed him to see the intruder. It was Elizabeth that stood in the doorway.

"Damn girl, I almost shot you," he greeted her.

"I didn't get to spend much time with you tonight so I thought I'd come down here," she said with a nervous smile. 

"Elizabeth," Dillon replied in sort of a scolding way. "You don't need to be here. It wouldn't look right."

"I don't care what it looks like. We're going to be married so what difference does it make?"

"We are?" Dillon asked in surprise.

"Of course we are. You don't think I let just any old cowboy that rides through take liberties with me, do you?" She said teasing him; then in a more serious tone said, "Please can I stay?"

Elizabeth was wearing a thick robe which she untied and dropped to the floor. She had on a night gown that came down below her knees; it did nothing to hide her charms. She also wore her boots. Dillon had to smile at the boots.

"Does Eleanor know you're here?" He asked.

"Momma's the one that told me to put on my boots. She said the ground would be cold," Elizabeth answered with a chuckle.

Maybe some gentleman could resist her, but that ain't me, Dillon thought. He pulled back the covers inviting her into the bed. She quickly took off her boots and joined him.




Winterborn Ch. 04



About 2 AM, Oso quietly opened the door of the bunkhouse; he was going to wake Dillon for his watch. Oso knew that Dillon slept with a pistol close at hand and didn't want to spook his friend. He noticed the lamp was still giving out a lot of light and looked at the bed. When he saw Elizabeth and Dillon sleeping, he smiled, shook his head and went back outside. I guess I can spend one sleepless night for those two, he said to himself.

Dillon woke about 6 AM, Elizabeth had already gone. He smiled as he shaved and cleaned up. Guess last night pretty well tells me my future, he thought. Dillon joined the rest of the crew at the breakfast table. After eating he asked Ethan to feed and water the horses and asked Oso to give him a hand. That left Eleanor, Elizabeth, and Dillon at the table.

He took a deep breath and with a nervous tone in his voice said, "Eleanor I'd, I mean we'd, like your blessing to get married. I respect and admire Elizabeth but mostly I love her. Don't want you to think I'm a penniless drifter, I've got about two thousand in at the bank in town." Dillon stopped not knowing what else to say.

Eleanor had to smile at the nervous young man. Finally she replied, "I wondered how long it would take for you realize that you two were meant to be together." She held open her arms as Elizabeth came to her and said, "Of course you have my blessing. The sooner the better so Elizabeth doesn't have to sneak down to the bunkhouse in the cold."

Two days later, Eleanor, Elizabeth, and Dillon went to Prescott; Oso and Ethan stayed at the ranch. They would get some supplies and Dillon wanted to mail a letter to his mother telling her of his upcoming marriage. The main purpose of the trip was to talk to the pastor of the church about holding the wedding there.

The wedding was scheduled for the first Saturday of the next month; about three weeks away. After meeting the pastor the three went to the general store for the supplies. Dillon posted the letter to his mother and as they started to leave a clerk from the bank asked Dillon to come and see the manager. 

As Dillon walked to the bank, Charley Jackson caught up with him. "Thought you'd like to know, someone broke Riley and Marsh out of jail. I was over to the other side of the county investigating a rustling yesterday; when I got back those boys were gone. Can't prove it but I know Cassidy broke em out."

"Well at least that's two less I've got to worry about," Dillon responded.

The ladies stayed in the store looking and shopping as women will do while Dillon went to the bank. The bank manager greeted him and explained that he held a bank draft for Dillon from the First Mercantile Bank in Boston. "I just need you signature and we can deposit the money into your account Mr. Gallagher," he said handing Dillon the bank draft.

Dillon's jaw almost dropped when he saw the amount of money his father had left him. "Am I reading this right?" He asked the manager. "It says ten thousand dollars."

The manager assured him that it was right and Dillon signed the draft. Wait until I tell Elizabeth he thought as he left the bank. As he got to the store he saw Cassidy go into the saloon. He usually doesn't travel without several men Dillon said to himself. This might be a good time to talk to him.

As he turned to go to the saloon Elizabeth and Eleanor came out to meet him. "Elizabeth go back into the store. I have to go see someone in the saloon," he ordered. The tone in his voice left no room for debate.

Elizabeth started to argue but Eleanor took her arm and led her back into the store. "There are times to argue with your man and times to obey," she explained to her daughter. "This is one of those times to obey."

Dillon entered the saloon and saw Cassidy standing near one end of the bar. He walked over to where the bar turned to join the wall and stood there waiting for Cassidy to notice him. Cassidy hadn't seen him as he was staring down into the whiskey glass in front of him. 

The bartender came over and Dillon ordered a whiskey and motioned for him to give Cassidy another. When the drink was put in front of him, Cassidy looked up and saw Dillon. His face got pale and he looked around as if looking for some of his men.

Dillon walked down the bar to him. "Cassidy I warned you once. You sent men to rustler our cattle and you had your men slap around a young woman. Leave the Edwards and the Triple E alone."

"I never ............" Cassidy began but Dillon cut him off.

"You're a liar Cassidy. Those were your men following your orders. If the Sheriff could prove it you'd be in jail. I'll say it just one last time...leave us alone."

"Or what?" Cassidy asked with false bravado.

"I'll kill you," Dillon answered. "That's not a threat, that's a cold hard fact."

Cassidy heard the suppressed anger in the young man's voice and could see a death stare directed toward him.

"Make no mistake Mr. Carpetbagger, I won't warn you, I won't call you out, I'll just shoot you down like the mangy cur dog you are." Dillon turned his back and walked out of the saloon to rejoin Elizabeth and Eleanor. 

"Who'd you go see?" Elizabeth asked still a little upset at being ordered around.

"I had a talk with Cassidy and suggested he leave us alone, is all. C'mon let's get back home."

On the ride back to the ranch, first Elizabeth and then Eleanor tried to get Dillon to tell them exactly what he said to Cassidy. Finally Dillon said, "I told him he couldn't run us off and to leave us alone. I also told him if he wanted to buy the ranch to make a decent offer for it. That's all. Now please, let it be."

Neither of them believed Dillon's explanation. They believed there was more to the meeting with Cassidy than Dillon said but decided to stop questioning him about it. 

I'll get him to tell me later, Elizabeth thought with a little smile. Later that evening on the porch after supper, she leaned against Dillon and reach up to kiss him. Elizabeth tried to coax the truth of Dillon's meeting from him. He responded to her kiss and hug but refused to say anything more about Cassidy.

"You can be an exasperating man Mr. Gallagher," Elizabeth said as she held on to his arm.

"And you are a temptress Miss Edwards," he answered. "But I've said all I'm going to say about that meeting."

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

The next three weeks were a whirlwind of activity for the Triple E and its crew. Eleanor and Elizabeth had to make several trips into Prescott for many errands pertaining to the wedding; either Oso or Dillon went with them every time. The plans were finalized with the pastor and invitations to a few friends were delivered. Elizabeth decided she would wear her mother's wedding dress but did buy a new veil. 

Dillon's frock coat, collared shirts, and wool pants from when he was a deputy would do fine for his wedding day. Ethan wanted to dress in a frock coat like Dillon so Eleanor had the seamstress in town make one for him. She also had the lady make a collared dress shirt for Oso; it was next to impossible to buy readymade clothes for the big man.

The wedding was on a Saturday at 2 PM with a private reception at the hotel for a few close friends. Oso did double duty by walking Elizabeth down the aisle and standing as Dillon's best man. Ethan escorted his mother to her seat in the front of the church looking proud in his new clothes.

Dillon, Elizabeth, Eleanor, and Ethan were driven by Oso to the hotel in a surrey decorated for the occasion. As Dillon helped his bride down from the coach, Cassidy and five of his men were riding by. They stopped their horses and stared. Then Cassidy rode closer to Dillon, motioning for one of his men to follow him.

"Gallagher," Cassidy called loudly and when Dillon turned toward him he said. "I had a friend of mine do some checking up on you. There's warrants on you from San Antonio and Laredo. He also said you were friends with Creed Taylor and John Wesley Hardin. You a gun fighter like Hardin?"

Dillon fixed a cold eye on Cassidy but didn't say anything. He was very aware that he was unarmed. Cassidy had his hand on his gun butt. 

"What'd you have to say about that gun fighter?" Cassidy asked sarcastically.

"Could be, but I've never seen those warrants." Dillon continued to stare at Cassidy and then added, "What'da want Cassidy?"

"I just wanted to introduce you to Bill Wilson here, he's my new hand." Wilson slowly raised one hand and touched the brim of his hat toward Elizabeth.

"From over Abilene way?" Dillon asked. Wilson nodded and Dillon said, "I've heard of you."

Elizabeth saw the way Dillon's eyes turn cold and felt his body tense. She pulled gently on his arm trying to get him to come inside the hotel. He didn't turn his head but said, "Elizabeth go inside please." She realized that this was another one of those times that she should do as he told her.

Wilson watched Elizabeth and Eleanor enter the hotel. "Right nice little filly you got there," he said. "Be a shame to make her a widow so soon after her wedding day." Wilson returned his attention to Dillon. "What did you hear Gallagher? Did you hear how fast I am with this?" He asked patting the pistol on his hip.

Dillon with a small grin replied, "No that wasn't it. I heard Bill Hickok ran you out of Abilene about a year ago."

Wilson's hand went to his gun but before he could draw he heard a voice from slightly behind him. "You pull that hog leg and I'll arrest you Mr. Wilson. You too Cassidy." The two men looked over their shoulders at Sheriff Jackson holding a scattergun pointed at them. 

Cassidy said, "Just serving some arrest warrants Sheriff."

"First of all Cassidy, you're not the law; you don't have the right to arrest anyone. And second, those Texas wants aren't any good here in Arizona." Jackson paused and then said, "I suggest you go and attend to your business Cassidy."

The whole time he was talking, Jackson never lowered the shotgun, keeping it aimed at Cassidy and Wilson. Cassidy sawed at his reins, pulling his horse around and rode out of town. 

Before he followed his boss, Wilson looked at Dillon and said, "I'll see you again Reb."

Dillon nodded and replied, "Be looking forward to it Blue Belly."

When the men had ridden away Dillon turned to Jackson as he lowered his shotgun. "Thanks Charley. It could have got right interesting if you hadn't come along.

"Didn't want to see a good party break up before it even got started," Charley said with a smile. "Let's get a drink."

Dillon entered the hotel and Elizabeth ran to him as he held out his arms to her. "Who is Wilson? You said you heard of him."

"Not today honey. This day is all about us," he replied.

The party was about four hours of good food, drinks, and jokes told at the newlywed's expense. Eleanor, Ethan, and Oso had arranged rooms at one of the boarding houses for the night. Elizabeth and Dillon stayed at the hotel; it was as close to a honeymoon as they were going to get.

It was after midday before the Triple E group could get started back to the ranch. The ride was slow as most everyone was still tired from the reception. Even Dillon was a little under the weather. It's been a lot of years since I've had that much to drink, he said to himself. Good thing I don't plan on getting married again; don't know if I could stand the party.

Elizabeth waited until they had turned off the main trail and started the last mile to the ranch house before asking, "Okay Dillon, who is this Wilson?"

"He's a hired gun. It doesn't matter to him what the job is; he'll work for whoever pays the most."

"What was that about Bill Hickok running him out of Abilene?"

Dillon smiled a little. "Wilson was in Abilene and put the word out that his gun was for hire. Hickok didn't like it and confronted Wilson in the saloon. Wild Bill told him to get out of town or go pay the undertaker for his upcoming funeral. Not many want to face Hickok so Wilson left town that afternoon." Dillon chuckled and added, "I guess it's a sore spot with Wilson."

As they rode up to the ranch house, Dillon felt that something wasn't right. The after effects of the party the previous night dropped away. He told the ladies and Ethan to stay mounted. He got off his horse and drew his pistol and Oso climbed down holding his rifle. The two men scouted around trying to see what was wrong or out of place. After checking the house they went to the barn. 

They saw their milk cow lying in the corral; her throat had been cut. The blood hadn't had time to dry so she'd been killed sometime that morning. Inside the barn someone had led Dillon's horse Buddy out of his stall and shot him in the head.

"Who could have done this?" Elizabeth asked. She had tears running down her cheeks. Eleanor was shocked at the brutality to the animals. Ethan had a grim look on his face; a look much too old for a boy his age. He had raised the cow from a calf.

Dillon and Oso looked at each other knowing that Cassidy was involved. They used the two mules, which surprisingly hadn't been harmed, to drag the dead animals away. That night for the first time everyone slept in the big house. The next morning Dillon made sure that all the defenses were ready in case Cassidy or some of his men came back. 

One of Cassidy's men rode up to the ranch house alone around 10 AM. "Cassidy said to tell you he'll be waiting for you at the saloon. He said that he'll burn the house next if y'all don't leave." His message delivered, the man turned and rode back toward town.

Elizabeth watched as Dillon saddled Buck and got ready to return to Prescott. "You're going to talk the Sheriff aren't you? Please let him handle this Dillon," she said. She was confident that Dillon could take care of himself but Cassidy had several hands working for him. Not to mention the hired gun, Bill Wilson.

"Cassidy will swear that all his men were working and weren't involved in killing our stock. The Sheriff can't do anything without proof," Dillon said. "Cassidy's tired of waiting and won't stop until he's forced you off the Triple E. It's time to put an end to this."

"Momma, Oso, stop him. He can't face Cassidy by himself," Elizabeth pleaded.

"You don't have to do this Dillon," Eleanor said. "I'll sell Cassidy the ranch and we can go someplace else." 

Dillon smiled at his mother. "What kind of man would I be if I let Cassidy force us out of our home, Eleanor?"

Eleanor returned Dillon's smile and nodded. She turned to Elizabeth and said, "He has to go. No man can back away from this type of trouble."

"Oso and I are coming with you then," Elizabeth said firmly.

"No. I know you can shoot as good as any man but if you're there I'll worry about you instead of what I need to do. About an hour after I leave, y'all get to Sheriff Jackson. If something happens to me he can protect you and help you get out of town," Dillon told them.

Dillon could see that Oso was planning on coming with him. "Oso, I need you to stay with them." He started to argue but Dillon cut him off. "Amigo, take care of my family for me."

Oso nodded and went to the corral to saddle the horses. Eleanor and Ethan went into the house to pack some clothes and personal things to take with them, leaving Elizabeth and Dillon alone on the porch.

Elizabeth put her arms around Dillon's waist, put her head on his chest, and just held on. She knew she couldn't stop him from facing Cassidy but she had to try. "You could be killed, you know? Where would that leave me?"

Dillon ran his hand over her hair and down her back. "When I left Virginia the last time, my father asked me what I was looking for; I couldn't tell him. Now I know, because I've found it. A woman to love and be my partner, a family, and a home. I can't let some carpetbagger son of a bitch take it from me."

"But Momma and I don't even like this place. You heard what she said, she wanted to live in town and teach school. Do you want to die over a piece of land that we don't care about?"

"I also heard her say that the Triple E is your father's legacy and she wouldn't be forced off this ranch. I won't be forced off either; it's my home too. When I stop Cassidy we can sell out and move on if you like; but not because he ran us off." Dillon kissed her and mounted Buck. He sat and looked down at Elizabeth for ten seconds or so and then turned and rode toward Prescott.

Elizabeth watched him ride away and then returned to the house. Eleanor handed her an envelope with Elizabeth's name on it. "Dillon left this for you," her mother said.

She opened it and read the letter inside. After reading it the tears that she had held back while talking to Dillon flowed down her cheeks. 

"What does it say child?" Eleanor asked seeing the tears. She put her arm around her daughter.

"It says that if he doesn't come back for us to take the money in his account at the bank and find a new place to live," Elizabeth answered. "Oh Momma," she said as she slumped down onto a chair.

Oso entered the kitchen and walked over to Elizabeth and handed her a Winchester. "Niña, come we must hurry. I have the horses saddled."

Confused, she looked up at the big man. "But Dillon said to wait an hour and then go to Sheriff Jackson's."

Eleanor looked at Oso and nodded. "Elizabeth I told you there are times that you have to obey your man. Well this is one of the times that you have to disobey. Ethan and I can make it to Charley's just fine. You and Oso go help Dillon."

Oso saw Elizabeth gather herself and stand up with a purpose. "If we ride hard and take the old trail we can get to town before Dillon." She hugged her mother and Ethan and walked quickly to the horses. Elizabeth waited for Oso to mount up and then put the spurs to her horse.

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

Dillon was less than a mile from the outskirts of Prescott when he saw Cassidy's hired gun Wilson sitting on his horse in the middle of the trail.

When Wilson saw him he sat up straighter in his saddle and waited for Dillon to get closer. "Thought I'd meet you out here Gallagher, away from Cassidy and the others."

"Why's that Wilson?" Dillon asked.

"I wanted you all for myself. You insulted me that day in front of the hotel. No man insults me and lives," Wilson explained. As he finished speaking he pulled his gun.

Wilson fired first but a split second later Dillon's shot rang out. The gun fighter dropped his pistol and looked down at his chest; surprised at the pain and the blood starting to seep out of the hole in his shirt. He looked in disbelief at Dillon and fell off his horse.

Dillon rode closer and looked down. "Guess you weren't as fast as you thought Wilson," he said as the man on the ground shook once and laid still. Dillon continued into the town; ignoring for the moment the wound in his left side.

As he rode Dillon thought, maybe there's something to the poem and ledge. First I'm willing to sacrifice myself in a war that was lost the day it started for a cause I didn't believe in. Then in San Antonio and later in Laredo I was willing to sacrifice myself fighting the bastards that tried to kill me, instead of walking away. And now, I put myself between Cassidy and people I love even though I'm outnumbered. Maybe I am Winterborn.

Dillon was losing a lot of blood and almost passed out once. He pulled Buck up in front of the bank, slowly dismounted, and tied him to the rail. As he tied the horse he softly quoted to himself:

"And in the fury of this darkest hour
 I will be your light
 You've asked me for my sacrifice
 And I am Winterborn"

He saw one of Cassidy's men leaning against the hitching rail in front of the saloon. When the man saw Dillon he hurried inside. As Dillon walked toward the saloon, Cassidy and two men stepped out to meet him. Cassidy looked around for a moment, confused.




Winterborn Ch. 04



"Wilson won't be joining us carpetbagger. I left him on the trail outside of town," Dillon said with steel in his voice. He was swaying on his feet a little but his mind was clear and sharp. He had entered into that cold mind set he always got before a battle.

The next time Dillon swayed the man on Cassidy's right drew his pistol; before he could aim at Dillon a rifle shot rang out. The man took two steps backwards and dropped to the ground. The cowhand on Cassidy's left never quite got his hand all the way to his gun before he was knocked down by another rifle shot.

Dillon didn't turn his head to see who had fired the rifles and continued to concentrate on Cassidy. "Looks like that leaves just you and me Mr. Carpetbagger," Dillon said challenging Cassidy.

Cassidy took a step back. "You're not running away from this like you did in Virginia Cassidy," Dillon said. The man could hear the hatred and anger in Dillon's voice. "I told you I wouldn't call you out but that's what I'm doing. Draw your gun or be shot standing there," Dillon told him.

He reached for his piston and Dillon let him clear the holster before he pulled his Remington and put two bullets into Cassidy knocking him to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye Dillon saw Oso step out from behind a building on his left. Turning his head he saw Elizabeth emerge from a gangway on his right. Both of them carried rifles and hurried over to Dillon as he was unsteady on his feet.

"I told you to go to Sheriff Jackson and stay out of this," Dillon scolded Elizabeth with a smile.

"You really didn't mean it," she replied.

He swayed again, touched his bloody shirt, and crumpled. Before Dillon could hit the ground, Oso picked him up and started to the doctor's office at a run.

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

Dillon thought he was dreaming but he couldn't wake up. He felt someone working on his side and the pain that went with it. Later he felt someone wiping his face with a cool wet cloth. He came back to the world and looked around. I'm on a bed someplace, he told himself. When he tried to sit up and move, pain shot through his side. He went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up he saw Elizabeth sitting on the bed holding his hand with her head and shoulders lying across his legs as she slept. Dillon pulled his hand free and caressed her face. When she opened her eyes at his touch he quoted "She walks in beauty like the night."

"Dillon, you're awake," Elizabeth said with relief. She turned and yelled through the open bedroom door, "Doc he's awake, he's awake."

"Alright my dear, take it easy or I'll have to take care of you too," Doc Reynolds said as he came into the room. "And how are you feeling Dillon. Still a little foggy I guess." 

"How bad did I get hit Doc?"

"You were shot in the side; the bullet went through you without hitting any vital organs I'm happy to say." Reynolds pulled the bandage off of Dillon's side and examined the wound. "Healing nicely, shouldn't give you a problem." Dillon tried to raise his head so he could look at his side but was too weak to do it.

Doc Reynolds continued, "From what I hear you were wounded before you got to town. I'm surprised that you didn't pass out from loss of blood."

Elizabeth took Dillon's hand again after the doctor finished. "I saw you standing in the street with blood all down your left side," she said with tears in her eyes. "I almost ran to you but Oso motioned for me to stay hidden."

"So you and Oso were there, I thought I was dreaming," Dillon replied. "Where is the big guy?"

"I'm right here amigo," Oso answered as he ducked his head and walked through the door way. "I thought your Winterborn legend was going to take you from us this time."

At Dillon's surprised look, he added, "You've been quoting that damn poem in your sleep. Senora Eleanor explained it to me." Oso looked at his friend and smiled. "You read some strange things amigo."

"How long was I out?"

"This is the fourth day. We were able to feed you a little soup but not much else," Elizabeth said.

"No wonder I'm so hungry," Dillon said. "Can I get something to eat? A steak and some fried potatoes would do just fine."

Doc Reynolds chuckled. "You can have some thin stew and a little bread. When you get used to that we'll see about a steak." Turning to the others in the room he said, "I think our boy will be fine."

That evening Sheriff Jackson came to visit Dillon. "I didn't find out Cassidy was in town gunning for you until the shooting was all over. First I knew of it was when Eleanor and Ethan got to my place. By that time it was too late. Sorry I wasn't there to help you."

"Don't worry Charley, I had all the help I needed," Dillon said looking at Elizabeth and Oso. "That was one time I'm glad they didn't follow orders." Pointing his finger at them he added, "But don't make a habit of it." 

The next day Dillon was able to sit up in bed and move without too much pain. He was still very sore but his wound was healing. Two days later he finally got the steak he'd asked for. Each day he gained strength and moved around more and more. Ten days after being shot he was back on his feet and ready to return to the Triple E.

Sheriff Jackson came to see Dillon again before he left for the ranch. "Guess you won't have any more trouble out your way. It'll be good to go back to raising cattle and horses won't it?"

Dillon smiled and nodded. Eleanor said, "Charley I would have sold the place after John died but not to Cassidy. Now that he's gone, I guess we'll stay."

"But you fought Cassidy every step of the way. Why didn't you sell out to him?"

"He tried to steal the place," Dillon said. "Just like the carpetbagger he was back in Virginia. First he had John Edwards killed and then tried to scare Eleanor and Elizabeth into selling. His offer was less than half of what the Triple E is worth." He grinned at Eleanor and continued, "There's nothing more stubborn than an Irish woman that thinks she's right."

Eleanor laughed and said, "Unless it's an educated, poetry quoting, southern gentleman."

When they got back to the ranch, Elizabeth insisted that Dillon take it easy for a few more days. He was regulated to cleaning weapons, oiling saddles, and a few times she allowed him to brush and curry the horses. Dillon even helped with the cooking a few nights.

It wasn't long and Dillon was back to full strength; although the area around the wound was still a little tender. They settled into a routine of the normal chores and working around the ranch.

Dillon and Elizabeth had moved some of the cattle to high country pastures and were returning home. They stopped on a hill overlooking the main house and buildings. 

"Any quotes Dillon?" Elizabeth asked laughing at her husband.

 " So, we'll go no more a-roving 
So late into the night, 
Though the heart be still as loving, 
And the moon be still as bright."

Dillon replied and then added, "No need to wander like a tumble weed anymore. I've found a home."

The End