William Johnstone: Dead Before Sundown

Frank had heard of the Canadian city but had never been there. Calgary was on the other side of the Rockies, at the edge of the Great Plains that extended from Canada down through the United States. Located not far north of Montana, it was a cowtown, Frank had heard, as wild in its early days as Abilene or Dodge City had been.

The formation of the North West Mounted Police had tamed Calgary and the rest of western Canada, at least to a certain extent. But Frank was sure there were still plenty of lawless men in the region, so Hopkins was probably right. He and Joe Palmer would have been able to find some new partners, or set up some illegal operation of their own.

Especially with the money they had stolen from Salty and the other citizens of Skagway to finance them.

The old-timer said, “We got to go after him, Frank. I worked hard for that dinero. I thought I’d never see it again.”

“We’ll talk about that,” Frank promised. “Right now we need to figure out what to do with Hopkins and that other fella.” He turned to Handlesman. “Do you know if there’s any law hereabouts?”

“There might be some Mounties on patrol around here,” the second mate said. “On the other hand, there might not be. The closest garrison is down at Vancouver.”

“Do you think Captain Beswick could be persuaded to take Hopkins to Seattle and turn him over to the authorities there?”

Handlesman rubbed his heavy jaw as he frowned in thought. “I don’t know. This is Canada. The Jupiter ‘s an American ship.”

“It was an American that Hopkins was trying to kill,” Frank said with a nod toward Salty. “Anyway, Hopkins is wanted in Alaska, and that’s an American territory. He’s probably got warrants out for him in Colorado and other places, too. That’s where Soapy Smith and his bunch were before they went north to Alaska.”

“I suppose it can’t hurt to ask him,” Handlesman said. “What about the other fella?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t even know his name. We’ll leave him here. He probably has friends who’ll take care of him.”

“What about us?” Salty asked. “We’re goin’ after Palmer, ain’t we?”

“We’ll talk about that back on the ship,” Frank said.

“What were you thinking, sneaking off like that?” Meg asked Salty with a scolding tone in her voice as if she was his mother, rather than young enough to be his granddaughter.

“Aw, shoot, I don’t know,” Salty replied. His leathery old face wore a hangdog expression. “I heard music, and it sounded like folks was havin’ fun. And I hadn’t had a drink in so long…. I wasn’t gonna go off on a bender, I can promise you that. Them days is over.”

Frank wasn’t completely sure they were, but he and Meg couldn’t watch Salty all the time. Sooner or later the old-timer had to be responsible for his own actions.

The three of them were in Meg’s cabin on the Jupiter. She had been waiting for them on deck when they got back to the ship. Handlesman had already told her that Frank and Salty were all right, when he came to get the doctor for the two wounded men.

Yeah Mow Hopkins was locked up in the Jupiter’s tiny brig. Captain Beswick had agreed, reluctantly, to deliver him to the law when the ship reached Seattle.

The question now was, what were Frank and Salty going to do?

“I’m sure sorry for all the trouble I caused,” Salty went on, “but if I hadn’t snuck ashore and gone to that saloon, I wouldn’t have spotted those two varmints. It was just pure-dee luck. Either that, or an omen tellin’ us to go after Palmer and get my dang money back.”

“We’d have to track him across the Rocky Mountains,” Frank pointed out. “That’s mighty rugged country. We might not be able to catch up to him until we got to Calgary.”

“I don’t care how long it takes.” Salty glared determinedly. “I’ll go after the dang skalleyhooter by myself if I have to, by grab!”

Frank chuckled. “Take it easy. I never said I wouldn’t go with you. I’m just saying it’s liable to be a hard chase.”

“I’m up to it,” Salty insisted. “I’ve traipsed hell-west and crosswise all over the frontier in my time. I can ride all night and fight all day if’n I have to.”

Frank didn’t doubt it. Salty might be old, but he was tough as whang leather. Sort of like Frank himself.

“We’ll have to get some horses and pack animals,” Meg put in.

Frank and Salty both turned to look at her. “What makes you think you’re goin’?” Salty asked.

“I figured you’d stay on the ship and go on to Seattle,” Frank added. “You can wait for us there.”

“You figured wrong,” Meg shot back at him without hesitation.

“Didn’t you hear what I was telling Salty about how hard the trip might be?”

“We were all going to Mexico together. That’s still the plan as far as I’m concerned. This is just a little … side trip, I guess you could say.”

Crossing the Canadian Rockies, even in summer, was likely to be more than a little side trip, Frank thought. But he had to admit it probably wouldn’t be as bad as traveling from Skagway over Chilkoot Pass to Whitehorse with winter coming on, and Meg had survived that. She was a good rider, could handle a gun, and certainly wasn’t lacking for courage.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have her along.

“All right,” he said as he nodded.

Salty stared at him. “Have you gone touched in the head? You want to bring a gal along while we’re chasin’ a owlhoot like Palmer acrost Canada?”

“Meg can take care of herself,” Frank said. “And she probably won’t go sneaking off and get mixed up in a gunfight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Salty muttered. “I done said I was sorry.”

“It’s settled, then,” Meg said. “Tomorrow morning we head east toward Calgary and try to pick up Palmer’s trail.”

“Providing we can find some decent horses,” Frank said. “That might not be as easy as it sounds.”

Chapter 5

Captain Beswick intended to sail early the next morning, so Frank was up at first light to head into the settlement. He thought he had seen a livery stable the night before, while he and the party from the ship were headed toward Red Mike’s, and he wanted to find out if he was right.

As it turned out, he was. Parkhurst’s Livery dealt in saddle horses and pack animals for the fur trappers who made Powderkeg Bay their headquarters. The proprietor, a white-haired man with the bulbous red nose of a heavy drinker, was glad to sell Frank three mounts and a couple of pack mules.

The horses weren’t much for looks or speed, but they were sturdy animals that ought to stand up well to traveling over the mountains, Frank thought.

“You can ride the mules if you need to,” Parkhurst assured Frank. “They’ll take a saddle. Their gait’ll loosen your teeth, though, if you have to ride ‘em for very long.”

“We don’t intend to,” Frank said. “We’ll need saddles and the rest of the rigs, along with packs for the mules.”

Parkhurst nodded. “I can fix you up, Mr. Morgan.”

“What about a general store for supplies?”

“Right along the street here.” Parkhurst pointed. “Haney’s Emporium. Tell Todd Haney I sent you.”

The sun had just begun to peek over the mountains to the east by the time Frank had bought the supplies and loaded them on the mules. He left all five animals tied up in front of the store while he went back to the ship to let Salty and Meg know they were ready to ride out.

Both of them had their gear gathered. It didn’t amount to much, since they had been traveling light. Meg was wearing a holstered .32-caliber revolver and had a short-barreled Winchester carbine tucked under her arm. She looked as if she was ready for trouble.