A Treacherous Journey West (Preview)

Chapter One

Amos Hardy and Charles “Lucky” Contrell sat at the saloon table with drinks before them. Although both men had smiles on their faces—both were optimistic in outlook—neither felt confident or lucky.

Lucky sighed. “The next time I bring in a herd and get a big payday, I’m not going to spend it on whisky, women, and poker, and clothes. I don’t need any more clothes. I’ll just spend the money on the first three.”

“That’s the only part of the money that was well spent. That’s a nice dark gray shirt, Lucky—your previous one would have been in tatters by now.”

The slow sounds of off-key piano music flowed through the saloon. The player was an elderly man with a white beard, and Hardy figured the man’s fingers were arthritic. Which was probably a good thing, he thought. If he played faster, the music would sound even worse.

A low murmur of conversation floated through the saloon, too, along with the bustle of waitresses rushing to bring beers and other drinks to the customers. An occasional laugh came from the assembled drinkers. Poker was being played on two tables and the men holding the cards didn’t look like friends. They eyed each other as though the other men had their faces on wanted posters.

“We need to settle down, get a good job, and work for our future,” Hardy said. “I have about eight dollars in my pocket and that’s not going to get me through the winter. I hope this bar needs someone to sweep up tonight.”

“Yes, I hate to admit this but my adolescence has gone on too long. Still, I have at least twelve dollars in my pocket, so I’ve planned better than you.” Lucky lifted his glass and took a drink. “However, this situation is not entirely our fault. We didn’t know Pete Davis was going to sell his ranch. He was going to hire us when we got to Montana. We didn’t know the Blackfoot would burn half of it and steal the few cattle he had.”

Hardy shrugged. “I guess I would have sold out, too. There wasn’t much left of the ranch. But he got good money for the land.”

“And we got nothing.”

Hardy lit a cigarette. “Well, we may be able to find some work. In the winter, maybe a business will need an extra man or two.”

“In winter, businesses usually lay off workers because they don’t get as many customers. But we might find a ranch owner who wants to make sure his cattle don’t freeze in the harsh weather. He might want a few humans to keep an eye on them and take hay and other food to them.”

“We’d better find one soon. Rumor is it’s going to be a hard winter this year. More than one man has told me the signs are pointing to a lot of snow.”

“Yeah, that’s all we need.”

“Maybe we should try our luck farther south. Ride back down to Colorado and Utah and see if there are any opportunities down there,” Hardy said.

“We can, but it may not be wise to start a journey when we have a total sum of twenty dollars in our pockets.”

“And, of course, we’ve always been wise in our decisions.”

“Yes, that’s why we have the exceptional sum of twenty dollars between us,” Lucky said.

“We need to change our luck.”

“It’s not our luck that needs to change, although I never mind good luck. We need to make better decisions.”

“Easier said than done, partner.”

They fell silent and sipped their drinks when a well-dressed man with a holster around his waist came to the table. Lucky wondered if he might be trouble, but he smiled widely and touched his hat.

“I wonder if I might have a few words with you gentlemen.”

“If your words will get us some money, yes.”

“What about five hundred dollars for about two months of your time, and another hundred if the job is successful.”

Lucky and Hardy widened their eyes and looked at each other.

“I always wondered if dreams came true. Apparently, they do,” Lucky said. “We don’t mind hard work but we won’t kill anyone.”

“You won’t have to.”

Lucky looked at his partner.

“That’s good news, but let’s hear him out before we jump for joy,” Hardy said.

“Ignore my partner, he’s very cynical,” Lucky said. “So, Mr.…?”

“Handleman. Dal Handleman. I’m the executive vice president of the Brisco Mining Company. We own the Mountain Lane Mining Company, which operates out of Gold Creek. Perhaps you have heard of it.”

“I’ve heard it mentioned once or twice,” Lucky said. “It’s a big operation, and one that could pay well for whatever it wants done.”

“And our main office is just two streets down. I would suggest we move our conversation down there. It’s not as noisy as this place is and I have some first-class whisky we can sip while we discuss the possible deal.”

“Sounds good.”

The three men stood up. Lucky and Hardy drained their glasses and followed Handleman out the door. It was evening but the lights were on in the office, which took up almost the whole block. As they walked in, three clerks still worked furiously at their desks. Handleman walked to a spacious rear office with a large desk and two big, cushioned chairs in front of them. The room was spotless, the desk shiny and free of stains or dust. Handleman walked behind the desk and sat down.

“I’m impressed with the office, Mr. Handleman. But with that kind of pay and first-rate office furniture, I’ve got the feeling the job you’re going to tell us about is going to be tough.”

“Nothing you two can’t handle. I’ve been told you are the best.”

Lucky smiled. He had a low, grizzled voice that sounded tough but not unfriendly. “Well, we do appreciate whoever told you that, but that depends on what exactly the job is. For that much money, we certainly don’t mind risking our lives, as long as there’s a fifty-one percent chance of getting out alive.”

“I think there is more than a fifty percent chance, but I’ll be honest and say you could also be killed.”

“Money like that is worth the risk,” said Hardy. “But since there’s a chance of us being killed, when you discuss the job, no fast talking. Talk slowly and include everything.”

Handleman smiled as he sat back in his chair. “You will understand every syllable I say.”

“And you did say the job is worth six hundred dollars?” Hardy said.

Handleman nodded. “I did, and you will earn every cent of it.”

“Then start talking.”

Before he began, Handleman opened a cigar box on his desk and lifted a cigar from it. He struck a match and lit it. He puffed once and then sighed, as the story he was about to tell wasn’t a jolly one.

“We need you two to drive a herd of cattle from Colorado, specifically a place called Willow’s Bend, which is in the center of the state, to Gold Creek, Montana. There’s about a hundred and fifty to two hundred cattle in the herd. Because of some unexpected difficulties and problems, the Mountain Lane Mining Company is running behind schedule. We now face what might be a severe winter and we don’t have enough supplies to feed the men through the winter. We need some beef up here as quickly as we can get it.

“We also need money to pay our miners through the winter when all train and stage traffic could be halted due to the snow. So, we are shipping an… ample amount of cash from our main bank in Denver. The money will be shipped under heavy guard to Willow’s Bend, and you will bring it to Montana along with the cattle. Our men are hiring drovers now, making sure they have experience. We can hire the best because we are paying double what drovers usually get. Our goal is to get fifteen drovers, and the company has hired two extra men with experience as lawmen to help guard the money.

“We hope there is no trouble. Nobody but us should know about the payroll money. This will be seen as a herd going to Montana to feed hungry miners, and no more. Naturally, with the threat of a severe winter, we would like to move as fast as possible. You can take the train to Willow’s Bend, which is where the herd will be, and then drive the beeves up here.”

“I assume the company is not spreading the word that a payroll is being shipped up to Montana,” Lucky said.

“Of course not, it’s being kept secret.”

“And let’s hope your mining company can be depended upon.”

Handleman nodded vigorously. “It can. I’ve worked for the company for ten years. Good men are running it—good men and trustworthy men. Christian men. They provide their employees a darn good wage, and if someone is hurt on the job, they take care of him. They will play straight with you, including telling you this is dangerous. I won’t deny that. We’ll lay out the facts and you can decide for yourselves if you want to take the job.”

Lucky grinned. “I already decided. I want to take the job. I’ll be on the train tomorrow, or whenever the first train comes through. It’s much more than I’ve ever been offered for a job before.”

Hardy nodded in agreement. “That’s the truth. I’m not about to turn down the most money I’ve ever been offered.”

Handleman tapped the desk. “Good. I’m glad you have that attitude. And since I talked about honesty, there is one aspect of the job I need to spell out for you. I’m not sure you will like it. The daughter of one of the company’s founders, Selma Russell, is in Colorado. It wasn’t a pleasure trip—she’s been brought up in the company and she knows more about the business than most men in the company. She will be driving a wagon and coming back with the herd. She also has a friend with her, Skylar Montoya, who will be coming back with her. I know some men don’t like women on drives. They’re superstitious and—”

“I’m not,” Lucky cut in. “I picked up the name of ‘Lucky’ but I don’t think there is such a thing as ‘luck’—there’s just hard work and good planning. If they know what they’re doing, I have no problem with them.”

“Nor do I,” Hardy said. “But there is one thing we need to get straight. She’s the daughter of the owner, and that may make her the boss—but on the drive, we’re the boss. And we give the orders. If we think a pass is too dangerous, we don’t go through, we go around. When we’re out there driving those beeves, our word is law.”

Lucky nodded. “When we get to Montana, it’s different. She can be the boss again. But on the trail, we have the final word.”

Handleman nodded. “Agreed.” He reached into his coat and took out his wallet, which held a wad of money. He counted out two hundred dollars and handed the money to the two new drovers.

“That’s a bonus for agreeing to the job. The company knows it won’t be easy but they have to get that beef for the men, and the money to pay them.”

Hardy smiled as he took the money. “We do like people who show their appreciation with more than mere words.”

“When you get down to Colorado, your men should be waiting for you. We have people hiring down there. If you don’t like somebody, you can fire them. That’s up to you. But because of the payroll, we have two guards—former sheriffs Keith Donovan and Lincoln Davies—to protect the herd and the cash. You know them?”

“Don’t really know them,” Hardy said. “I met Donovan once and he seemed like a straight-shooter. Don’t know Davies. But I’ve heard of both of them and they have reputations as very good men. I’ll be glad to have them with us.”

“So will I,” Lucky said. “I’ve never met either man but their reputations are good.”

“Good. The last thing to say is if you are near a town, the company would like to be kept informed of the progress of the herd. If somebody would ride to a telegraph office and let us know the status, we will be waiting anxiously.”

“We can do that,” Hardy said.

“Then it’s settled.”

The two men shook hands with Handleman.

“Glad we bumped into you, Mr. Handleman. Rather, we’re glad you dropped in at our table,” Lucky said. He looked at his partner. “Let’s get ready for a long train ride and a long ride back.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Mr. Handleman,” Hardy said. “We’ll have those beeves up to you in no time at all.”

“I just hope the snow holds off. There have been signs of an early and severe winter. Frankly, the company has made a few mistakes and now has to pay the consequences. If you get caught in the snow…”

“We’ll ride our way through. Don’t worry, we’ll get your beef to you. This is the most money we’ve ever made for a cattle drive. For this much money, those cattle are going to be at your door very soon.”

The three men laughed.

Chapter Two

The wanted posters of Steel Ben Reeves featured a large man with a heavy beard and long hair. Because he had come to the hotel, he had shaved his beard and combed his hair. Now, he merely looked like a man of above-average size with a neat haircut. When he signed the register, the clerk didn’t give him a second glance. Many outlaws were illiterate, but Reeves could sign his name and write a few other words. He had reasonably good penmanship and his written words were easily read.

He slapped his saddlebags over his shoulder and headed up the stairs. He didn’t plan on staying long, just one night. And he didn’t have to go anywhere. The man he wanted to talk to would come see him. They didn’t want to be seen in public. If they were, it would cause suspicion. And rightly so. Steel Ben Reeves was an outlaw noted not only for his ruthlessness but also for his cunning. Lawmen hated him but did credit him for shrewdness. Reeves often bragged to friends that he had an eighth-grade education and was proud of it.

He grinned as he opened the door to his room. It was about as he expected—a bed, a table, one chair, and a basin with a pitcher of water. He went over and checked the water. It looked fresh, no dirt or dust in it. The pitcher must have been filled that morning, which was not always the case. He poured the water into the basin and splashed his face with it. He was a bit tired but the water woke him up. He grabbed a towel and mopped up the droplets on his skin. He took his gunbelt off and hung it on a hook on the wall, then eased back on the bed and crossed his arms.

“Hank, you had better come through on this. You always have before, but this is bigger, much bigger than anything we’ve ever done.”

He opened his saddlebag and took out a bottle of whisky. He pulled the cork and took a drink.

“We’ll see,” he said. “We’ll see.”

Reeves had another trait that was rarely associated with outlaws—patience. He didn’t have a temper and didn’t fly off the handle under pressure; he could wait and watch without getting frustrated. Most outlaws didn’t live to an old age. They lived hard and usually died hard, by bullets or by a noose. He was already a candidate for a noose, although he felt the law’s accusation of murder against him, which was spelled out on the poster, was somewhat unfair. The man he had killed had challenged him. He was merely quicker than his opponent.

He was worth five hundred dollars to bounty hunters, and the message on the poster was dead or alive. Bounty hunters usually took the easy way out and shot the wanted man in the back. The poster didn’t say the outlaw had to be killed in a fair fight. Five hundred dollars was a good amount. A lot of men on posters were worth only fifty or sixty dollars. Five hundred was about as high as a bounty went. Although if this job was as good as Hank promised, the poster put up after the theft might offer even more for him. He smiled. He would like that.

He had questions, but Hank had always been right and straight with him in the past.

Hank was John Hank Bethard, who was a vice president with the Brisco Mining Company, although vice-president might sound a bit too presumptuous. The mining company gave any number of officials the title of vice president, while the real power was held by three chairmen of the company. Bethard had sent the message that he needed to meet with Reeves and asked to meet him in Kindale, a small town about twenty miles from Gold Creek, home to the central office of the mining company. The mine was located about twenty miles outside Gold Creek.

Reeves leaned back on the bed and took another drink. Now all he had to do was sit back and wait. He sipped the whisky again and smiled. He had to be a bit careful. Even with the beard, he didn’t want anyone to recognize him and start shooting. He figured he would stay in the room until about seven, go out and have dinner, and come right back to the hotel. He didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks, not with so much at stake. He took one more sip of the whisky and stretched out on the bed.

By seven, Hank still hadn’t appeared, so he walked to a restaurant, took a table next to the wall so his back would be facing most customers, and ordered dinner. He chose roast beef and was happy to find out the cooks were excellent. He paid the fee and left a generous tip.

He climbed the stairs and walked to his room. When he opened the door, he almost drew his gun when he saw a man sitting in the only chair in the room. But as his hand fastened on the gun, he saw the man was Hank Bethard.

He shook his head.

“The dim light almost got you killed, friend. You’re lucky I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I would have been dead and you would have been out of a lot of money. You’ve always wished for one huge robbery—one raid that would set you up for life. I think I may have it for you.”

Reeves didn’t jump for joy. He wasn’t made that way. He had heard a lot of wild tales in the West and he took all of them with a grain of salt, or more likely with a pound of salt.

He sat on the bed and leaned back, crossing his arms. “Now, I would like to hear that. Go ahead and explain it. Don’t leave out any details.”

Bethard nodded. “The Brisco Mining Company,” he pointed to himself, “of which I am a part, has a gold mining company—“

“Yes, I know that,” Reeves interrupted. “Get to the good stuff.”

“They have several hundred miners, and they have to feed them. Due to a lot of details I won’t go into, they have only a limited supply of beef. And the winter promises to be a rough one. No herds may be able to make it up to Gold Creek during the winter, so the company is hiring drovers to bring a herd of cattle up here, where they will be used for dinner through the winter. A herd of a hundred or fifty or even two hundred cattle is worth a lot of money.”

Reeves stared at him but said nothing.

“They also have to pay their miners and, due to some other problems, the company needs a new shipment of cash from their main bank in Denver. I’m going to estimate there may be a quarter of a million dollars being brought up on that drive.”

Reeves shook his head and coughed. He stuck a finger in an ear, then yanked it out. “Excuse me, I thought you said a quarter of a million dollars would be on that drive. I’m assuming I’m hearing things.”

“No, you’re not. And that may be a low estimate. The exact amount of the money being shipped up here to Montana may be more, closer to a half-million. The company will need enough to pay the miners for… who knows how long. And the company does have expenses, too.”

“And it’s being shipped with the beef?”

“Yes, the herd was going up anyway. I guess the company thought it might as well ship the money, too.”

Reeves swung his feet from the bed and planted them on the floor. “This is unbelievable. Are you sure? I mean, are you really, really sure? Is there any possibility of a mistake?”

“No, none at all. I was there when they discussed it at a company meeting, offering one plan after another. After some debate, they decided to send the money with the herd with,” Bethard held up his hand, “two armed guards along, too. Two former sheriffs. They won’t be herding the cattle; they will be there to protect the money.”

“You know who they are?”

Bethard shook his head. “They made that decision when I was out of the room.”

“That’s okay, it doesn’t matter who they are. We’ll kill whoever it is. Quarter of a million.”

“And possibly more.”

Reeves clenched his fist. “This is it!” he said. “This is a one-in-a-million chance. This is the robbery that will be worth a lifetime. When we steal that money, we will be set for life. No more dodging lawmen. No more second-rate hotels. You ever hear the saying, ‘Behind every great fortune is a crime’?”

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Heard someone say that to me one time and I always remembered it. ‘Behind every great fortune, there is a crime.’ Well, this is the crime that will produce a few great fortunes, and mine will be one of them.”

He picked up his whisky bottle and grinned.

“Celebrating?” asked Bethard.

“No, not celebrating. Just having a drink. Celebrating comes when we have the money and we have the herd.”

Bethard looked as if he’d been slapped. He widened his eyes and gasped in shock.

“And the herd? You’ve got the money. You want the cattle, too?”

Reeves sipped from the bottle. “I want everything I can get from this project. Everything. This will be the last job I do and, with it, I’ll have all the money I’ll ever need. Those cattle will bring in a great deal of money, so I might as well get some of it. Plus the payroll.” He laughed. “This crime is going make me a fortune.”

He took one more drink, slammed the cork in the battle, then gave a hard look at Bethard.

“I assume you know where they are gathering the cattle in Colorado and the way they are going.”

“Yes, beeves have been taken to Montana before. They’re using the usual route.”

“Good. Tomorrow, I need you to get me some maps. We’ll pick our place to attack and catch the drovers by surprise. They won’t know what hit them. Then the beeves and the money will be ours.”

Bethard narrowed his eyes. His voice hardened. “I want twenty percent of the take.”

“Twenty percent?”

“You couldn’t do this without me. I’m giving you all the information you need.”

“That’s possibly true, but I don’t see you strapping on a gun and riding out to steal some cattle. You may have all that knowledge, but it does you no good unless you have rustlers on your side. Without them, all the knowledge will get you nothing. When we are out risking our lives, you will be in your warm, safe office drinking a cup of coffee. Besides, I can go buy some maps myself. You’ve told me all I need to know.”

“I’m still in the main office. I could be valuable when the drive begins.”

Reeves thought for a moment. His voice softened. “Well, you are making this possible. You can take ten percent, which will still be a sizable sum. Ten percent.”

Bethard nodded. “Agreed.”

Reeves stuck a cigar in his mouth. All you will get is a bullet, he thought. Once I have the information, I don’t need you.

Chapter Three

Hardy and Lucky stepped into the passenger car. They had expected a few more passengers but there seemed to be only about a half-dozen with them, all of them men. They eased down into their seats. The conductor, a tall, thin man who wore a cheery smile but was getting gray in his hair, walked by and welcomed them to the train.

“We should have a smooth trip,” he said, beaming at the two. Hardy thought the man looked at the passengers the way he might look at his own children. Here’s a guy who loves his work, Lucky thought. The train whistle blew and the man smiled again—another indication he was content in his work.

“We’re very glad you’re joining us,” he said.

“Well, we’re kind of happy about it ourselves,” Lucky said. “We got a good job down in Willow’s Bend, but it’s going to bring us back up here.”

“Really?”

“Yeap, we’re gonna drive some cattle back to Gold Creek.”

The conductor looked at them as if they needed medical attention.

“Isn’t it a bit late to be driving cattle? Driving mangy steers is tough enough in good weather, much less this close to winter.”

“That’s very true,” Hardy said. “Very true indeed. But they’re offering us top dollar to bring the cows up.”

“I’m sure it will be a good payoff, if you get the steers up here. But it may not be an easy drive.”

“There is no such thing as an easy drive,” Hardy said. “They are only difficult ones and even more difficult ones. But we are getting more pay for this than any other drive we’ve ever been on. That makes it better.”

“I wish you well.” The conductor crossed his arms. “I’ll have you know that about thirty years ago, I drove cattle myself. Two drives, and one was to Montana. Luckily, there weren’t too many surprises during the drive. If you have a surprise during a cattle drive, it’s probably not a good one. It’s more like a catastrophe.”

The train rocked a bit and a loud whistle blew. Hardy winced at the sound.

“I only did two drives,” the conductor said, “then I got a better job—this one. Other people drive the train and stop. All I do is walk down the aisle asking people to hand me their tickets. And you know something?”

“No, what?” said Lucky. He was beginning to like the man.

“I hear when people like me retire, they’re even going to give us a pension. What do you think of that? I never got that on a trail drive.”

“Well, I think you like the job, and it’s wonderful. What’s your name, sir?”

“Dirk Meadows, the nicest conductor you will ever meet. Father of three children, married to Mary for thirty years and an amateur painter.”

“An artist. Always admired artists, Mr. Meadows.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I do is art. But I do it on a canvas, so…”

“Well, that counts,” Hardy said. He looked around and took note of the seven passengers on the train. Most were middle-aged men, but there was one dark-haired man with blue eyes.

“Mr. Meadows, I’m just curious. Is this about the normal number of passengers?”

Meadows nodded. “Yes, we’re going to Colorado, but when we come back, there will be even fewer passengers. Few people want to go to Montana in the winter. Not that many want to go in the summer for that matter. You two may be one of the few who are coming back to Montana with snow swirling in the air.”

“Yes, we have to get those beef to Montana. May not be easy but it will be profitable,” Hardy said.

Meadows laughed and walked on down the aisle.

Hardy looked out the window and saw a few snowflakes falling to the ground. They heard the whoosh of the wind blowing the flakes.

“Hope we don’t get delayed,” Lucky said. “We need to get down to Colorado as soon as possible, get the herd, and start driving cattle. We should have two or three days to spare. Unexpected things can happen on a drive and you have to expect them and prepare for them.”

His partner nodded.

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“A Treacherous Journey West” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Amos Hardy and Charles “Lucky” Contrell, both veteran cowboys, are hired to take a cattle herd from Colorado to Gold Creek, Montana. Both men have outstanding reputations for honesty and bravery, but the journey is treacherous and made more so by an early and severe winter.

The light snow begins to fall and the vultures begin to circle…

Selma Russell is an intelligent, lovely woman but she knows that death can be quick in the West. She came to Colorado to oversee bringing the cattle to the company headquarters. But the Blackfeet also want to feed their people and they’re planning to steal the livestock and kill all the whites guarding the animals…

Can a young girl like Selma handle so much violence?

Amos and Lucky sure didn’t expect to be fighting Indians along the way. A rampage of murders, however, will soon lead them to suspect a traitor among them; someone who has killed before and will not hesitate to do it again. There is a long journey ahead, and time isn’t on their side! Will the drive cost them their lives?

“A Treacherous Journey West” is a historical adventure novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cliffhangers, only pure unadulterated action.

Get your copy from Amazon!