William Johnstone - Winter Kill

When they finally made it back to Seattle, it was summer, and Salty wanted to keep going south. Frank still had an errand to take care of, though. He told Salty and Meg to head for the border country with a promise to catch up to them later. Meg had said nothing doing to that, of course, as Frank expected, and Salty had stubbornly tagged along, too.

So now it was midsummer and absolutely gorgeous in Alaska as the Jupiter docked at Skagway and Frank, Meg, and Salty disembarked. Frank was back in boots, jeans, a faded blue shirt, and his high-crowned Stetson. Salty wore overalls, a red-checked shirt, a cowhide vest, and a battered old hat with the brim turned up in front. Meg was dressed like something out of a Wild West show, in Salty’s opinion, in a fringed buckskin shirt, jeans, and a brown, flat-crowned hat. If she was going to be improper and scandalous, she said, she might as well go all the way and wear trousers like a man.

“All right,” Salty had agreed reluctantly, “but if you go to chewin’ tobaccy and spittin’, then I ain’t gonna let on I even know you!”

As they walked along the dock, the first thing Frank noticed was that there were a number of soldiers in evidence. The U.S. Army had come to Skagway. He spotted a young officer and said, “Excuse me, Lieutenant, but what’s going on here? Why is the army in Skagway?”

“Not that it’s any business of yours, mister,” the lieutenant replied, “but we were sent in to quell the riots.”

“Riots?” Salty repeated. “What riots?”

“The ones that broke out after Soapy Smith was killed, when his men went to war among themselves trying to seize power.”

“Smith’s dead?” Frank asked sharply.

“That’s right. He shot it out with a member of the vigilantes that were organized against him and his cohorts. Both men were killed, and after a few days the rest of the vigilantes succeeded in driving Smith’s cronies out of town.” The lieutenant sounded a little disappointed as he added, “We really didn’t have that much to do. Most of the trouble was over by the time we got here.”

Frank nodded slowly. “Thanks,” he said. He turned and started back toward the Jupiter .

“Hey!” the officer called after him. “Didn’t you just get off that boat?”

Frank looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. But there’s no reason for me to be here now.”

Salty cackled as the three of them headed for the ship. “You didn’t get to shoot him after all. Don’t that just beat all?”

Meg linked her arm with Frank’s and smiled up at him. “It’s not that bad,” she said. “Now there’s nothing stopping us from going to Mexico, is there?”

Frank grinned back at her. “Not a thing in the world,” he said.

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Copyright © 2010 William W. Johnstone

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PUBLISHER’S NOTE

Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.

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ISBN: 978-0-7860-2455-1