War Rider Page 2

  “You here for good this time, or just passing through?” Langstrom asked.

  “Reckon its here for me, from now on,” answered Ahlen.

  “Well, it sure is right good to see you, Ahlen. Forgive me now, I’d like to visit more but I got to serve notice on a fellow, so duty calls.”

  “Sure thing, Deed. By the way, what happened to old Sheriff Collins?”

  Langstrom shook his head and looked away vaguely into the distance. “Sad passing that. Brad was a fine lawman, taught me all I know. I miss him sorely.” He geed his horse on. “Be seeing you, Ahlen.”

  Ahlen waved a farewell and Langstrom turned in the saddle to look back as he rode off. “Now, don’t you forget, Ahlen. Come the time, you vote for me, y’hear.”

  Ahlen walked on another two miles until he came to the turn-off for his family’s homestead. He stopped as approached the white painted clapboard house and covered porch and he paused awhile as he took a moment to drink it in. It looked exactly as he remembered it. The same picture he had imprinted in his mind and kept as a haven through all the campaign miseries he had endured during the war. It did his heart good to see that nothing had changed here.

  His mother saw him through the front window and burst through the door to rush towards him. “Ahlen!” she cried. “You’re home. Pa! Pa! Come on out here, our boy’s home at last.”

  She enclosed him in her arms and even though the top of her white head only came to his chest, Ahlen leant down and kissed her grey locks fondly.

  “Good to see you, ma,” he said.

  His father came out and stood on the porch looking down at him. There was still the same air of reticence about him that Ahlen remembered when he had told his father he was enlisting. His pa was a peaceable man and had disagreed with Ahlen’s desire to fight.

  “Glad you’re back safe and sound, boy,” he said.

  “Thanks, pa. Feels good to be here.”

  “Come now, sit on the porch. You must be tired out,” his mother fussed, taking his bag from him and laying it aside. “I’ll get us some fresh pressed lemonade. Oh Lord! Its good to see you Ahlen.”

  A slender figure sidled out of the front door and watched coyly as Ahlen settled himself on the porch bench.

  “Welcome home, Ahlen,” he offered tentatively.

  “Why, hot damn! Hello, Len Darby. How are you?” Ahlen jumped to his feet and greeted his brother-in-law with an encompassing hug. A quick look told him that Len was sober, but the deep rings under his eyes and the troubled stoop of his narrow shoulders did not speak well of his sense of self-respect.

  “Been a while, huh?” said Len.

  “I was real sorry to hear about Ada May’s passing,” said Ahlen, resting a hand on Len’s shoulder. “This place won’t be the same without my little sister running around.”

  “Yeah,” nodded Len, with a quick sidelong glance away. “We all miss her.”

  “And my nephew, Charlie Bob. Where is that little sprog?” asked Ahlen, brightening at memory of the lively boy.

  “He’s not so little now, son,” said his father. “All growed up. A little too fast if you ask me.”

  “Yep,” added Len. “He’s going on fourteen years old now. Be out somewhere with his buddies, I reckon.”

  “You should keep him in check a bit more, Len,” chided Pa Best. “Boy’s running wild.”

  “Ah, he’s just a mite headstrong is all, pa,” said Len.

  “More than that, I’d say. Least it is, mixing with that gang of ne’er-do-well’s in town.”

  Ahlen was about to question more, when his mother bustled out with a tray of glasses and a jug of lemonade. “Now, hush up,” she reprimanded her husband as she set the tray down on a small side table. “Let the boy catch his breath, will you. He’s only just got here.”

  Ahlen passed across a full glass to Len. “Here’s to you, Len,” he said, arching a questioning eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry, Ahlen,” said Len, catching his meaning. “This is as strong as it gets these days, I quit drinking when Ada May passed.”

  “That’s good to hear,” smiled Ahlen.

  “Well,” said Ma, brightly. “A toast all around, I think. To our boy back safe and a hero too.”

  “No, ma,” Ahlen shook his head. “I weren’t no hero. Forget all that medal stuff, it don’t amount to nothing. It’s just me, Ahlen, back and glad to be here.”

  “All right, son,” said his mother with a sad little smile and a raised glass. “Whatever you want.”

  **********

  “What happened here, pa?”

  After the evening meal both Ahlen and his father had wandered out back of the house where his father kept a small corral and a couple of piebald ponies.

  His father leant on the top rail of the corral and watched the horses skitter and shake their manes as they came over expecting a treat. Dutifully, he reached in his overall pocket and pulled out a couple of carrots, holding them up for the ponies.

  “You remember Ty Fells?”

  “Sure I do,” said Ahlen. “We went to Doc Barnes for schooling. Just like all the island kids did.”

  “Well, you’ll know his folks owned the mill then. They died and Ty came into his inheritance. A pretty sum so I’m told. He closed down the lumber business straight off, his folks wasn’t even cold in the ground. Now, I remember his pa from way back when he started up. Worked like a dog to get that yard going. Travelled all over to start the trade off right, without him this island would never have become the success it was. Poor fellow must be turning in his grave.”

  “But the town, pa. I mean, it’s like some lawless Texas cow town.”

  “Ty runs the place now. He’s got Deed Langstrom in his pocket and owns that big saloon on Main Street, The Rolling Dice it’s called.”

  “So how do people survive without the lumber business?”

  “They don’t. Most pulled up stakes and left. There’s talk, can’t say its gospel, I wouldn’t know. But ever since Congress broke of that mutual reduction of duties with Canada last year, there’s been a lot of cross-border traffic, if you get my meaning. Now the Canadians are talking of forming their colonies into a confederation, they’re also getting nervous about our purchase of Alaska. They feel kind of surrounded, you might say. So its kind of topsy-turvy over there as the politicians go to it, result is, there’s not a lot of border control right now. People on both sides are missing the earlier trade, it’s inevitable there’ll be some shady dealings.”

  Ahlen nodded. “I saw the corrals. Horses, cattle? Illegal imports, you’re saying?”

  “You won’t have seen it yet but there’s a land bridge built where the old log flume used to be on the other side of the island. Ty had them lay in tons of rock. It’s a wide water roadway now when the river runs low, joins us up to the Canadian mainland where they’ve built a corduroy road through the forest. Damndest thing! They bring the cattle in over the bridge. Whether they’re legal or not, I can’t say, but I doubt it. The old sawmill has been turned into a slaughterhouse, they tell it’s even got its own ice and packing house over there. The meat’s cut down, packed in ice and shipped across on a boat twice a month to the railhead, God knows where it goes from there.”

  “So, all those folks raising hell in town are working for Ty?”

  “Most of them. He started up the saloon business to claw back some of the wages he pays out, I guess. Lot of people work for him. Cowhands, slaughter men, butchers and even got a tannery going. It soon grew after that. They came in like flies around a honey pot. Lot of rough folk and chancers mostly. All of them looking to make easy money.”

  “None of the mill workers left?”

  “Some, there’s a few of your old lumberjack buddies still here. Remember Loup, the whistle punk? And Jodie Little Cloud, the high climber....”

  “Boy! I recall Jodie alright, that Indian could scale a tall pine like a mountain cat,” smiled Ahlen.

  “He sure could. And that choker setter, what was his name
?”

  “Bud Lincoln, although we used to call him Pres, him having such a presidential name.”

  “They’re still around but just getting by on odd jobs and such.”

  “What a mess,” said Ahlen in disgust. “Man, I had such high hopes coming back to Mistake. Why didn’t you write me about all this?”

  His father sighed. “After the consumption took Ada May, I didn’t have the heart to heap more woe on you. You had enough on your plate already with the war. So, I figured it wouldn’t do no good, there was nothing you could do anyways. Nothing anyone could do.”

  Len stepped out on the veranda and called down. “You spare a moment, Ahlen?” he asked.

  “Sure. Excuse me dad.”

  Ahlen stepped up onto the veranda next to Len. “What’s up?’ he asked.

  “It’s Charlie Bob. I’m getting worried, he should be home now.”

  “You want to go look for him?”

  “Would you mind tagging along?”

  As they walked the two miles into town through the dusk, Ahlen asked Len if he knew where Charlie Bob might be.

  “He’ll be at The Rolling Dice, he seems to hang out a lot there with Ty Fell’s crew.”

  “Ty’s crew?” Ahlen said.

  “Yeah, Ty’s got this bunch of fellows he keeps by him. They’re kind of rough and ready boys.”

  “Is it smart to allow Charlie Bob to be with that sort?”

  Len sighed. “You think it’s easy? A young kid about to bust his breeches.”

  Ahlen shrugged. “True enough. I wouldn’t know.”

  “Remember what you were like at that age?”

  Ahlen snorted a laugh. “Damn right I do. I guess in those days I’d have been there right alongside of him.”

  “There you have it. It was different when his ma was around, Ada May kept him in check. I was about as much use as the hind tit on a hound dog. Drunk most of the time. So I wasn’t there for the kid. It’s a kind of strange relationship now. I mean, I love the boy but, you know, it’s hard to talk to him. His ma, rest her soul, she and him would natter on all day long without a care in the world.”

  Ahlen looked at the distant town coming into view, the noise rolling towards them along the silent road. “Ada May,” he said. “I’ll miss that girl. She was a one all right. A real tomboy. Why she’d climb trees and hunt squirrel better than all the rest of us boys put together, you remember?”

  “I surely do. Never understood what she saw in me though. I was always the dog’s tail when we played as kids. Always falling over my own damned feet or near drowning in the lake. You sure saved my hide a few times in those days, Ahlen.”

  Ahlen chuckled. “Me and Ada May both, we was always looking out for you and that’s a fact.”

  “Well, I’m here for you now Ahlen. You know that don’t you?” Len spoke solemnly and Ahlen glanced across at him with a frown.

  “Don’t take on so, Len. You don’t owe me nothing.”

  “Sure I do. You and your family have always been good to me since my folks passed when I was a young ‘un. Then I married your sister and when she passed, your folks made room for me and Charlie Bob in their home, even though I was a no-account drunken bum. Sure I owe you. I owe you all plenty.”

  “Don’t say it, Len. You’re part of the family now and that’s all there is to it.” With a teasing grin, Ahlen put his big arm around Len’s shoulders and hugged the frail frame to him.

  “Get the hell off me!” growled Len, wriggling away. “You want the neighbors to talk.”

  Ahlen laughed. “After what I’ve seen going on in this town today, I don’t think they’d be surprised by anything.”

  As they entered Mistake an old fellow was making his slow way along Main Street with a lighted taper, firing up hanging oil lamps. Their warm glow was mellowing the town and as Ahlen looked down the length of the street and out at the soft shine of the lake beyond where the calm waters collected the last light of the day, he still thought it made a pretty picture despite all the ruckus.

  Even at the late hour, the town was a busy hive of noise, although most of the activity was moving into the various pleasure establishments and it was easier for Ahlen and Len to walk along the boardwalk and avoid the messy street. Len went ahead a few steps and pushed open the double swing doors to The Rolling Dice, ushering Ahlen inside.

  Chapter Four

  The saloon was, despite its blatant facade, only a two-story structure with a fake high frontage and as the two men moved into the press of customers, Ahlen could see that a split level staircase led to the single upper story where a landing with closed doors indicated sets of rooms unavailable to those below. A brawny fellow seated on the bottom step held a watchful eye and a double-barreled shotgun to make sure it was kept so.

  The open plan ground floor was full of people, some sitting at tables but mostly standing or moving between the gambling. Blackjack and dice were in play, and card games over green baize populated the outskirts of the crowd.

  The air was thick with tobacco smoke and a broad, marble-topped bar was in constant use with three busy bartenders in long aprons sweating behind it. At back of the bar, a mirror ran the length reflecting the bustling clientele, the glass seemed to double the numbers present and make the place appear even more busy. Underfoot, thick sawdust coated the boards and brass cuspidors regularly rattled with the hawked up phlegm of tobacco chewing workers.

  Standing head and shoulders above the crowd, Ahlen was easily visible and as he stood there somewhat bemused by the noise and press he was surprised by a hand tugging at the sleeve of his tunic jacket.

  “Ahlen! Ahlen Best!”

  He looked down to see a feathered saloon girl standing close in front of him, her tight sequined corset pushing ample breasts up to meet him from out of a daringly low neckline.

  “Uhuh?” he said, not knowing the girl.

  “Ahlen, damn! Don’t you recognize me? Lord, we walked out often enough.”

  Slowly, recognition slid in, as he looked through the paint and powder, the ruffled lace and feathered bonnet he discovered the pretty little brunette girl he had first kissed at a church social so many years ago.

  “Annie? Annie Caldense. Is that you in there?”

  “In there? What does that mean? I’m here, like I always have been.”

  “I mean.... I didn’t....” Ahlen fumbled. “Didn’t expect to see you in here.”

  “Well, I work here now. Girl’s got to find some way to put bread on the table.”

  Ahlen could see she had hardened some in the between years. He remembered her as a soft, somewhat ingenuous young thing. Remarkably pretty and probably in love with him back then. Now, she looked like she would give any man a run for his money.

  “Well, how are you?” Ahlen asked. They were shouting above the noise and it was a rather difficult conversation.

  “Got me a child now, Ahlen. A little boy name of Petey.”

  “So you’re married then. Who to?”

  “Nope,” she shook her head and the feathers fluttered. “He lit out when the boy was born. Left me high and dry, the lousy two-timer. That’s why I’m in here, earning a crust the hard way.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” said Ahlen.

  Len arrived, squeezing in between them. “Hello Annie,” he said apologetically. “Sorry to interrupt. Ahlen, I’ve found him he’s over there,” Len indicated somewhere over the heads of the crowd towards a far corner. “Will you come on over?”

  “I’ll see you later,” Ahlen said to Annie, as he followed Len.

  She called something after him before she was lost in the press but it was impossible to hear her over the noise of the room. Ahlen shrugged apologetically and waved.

  They elbowed through the body of the crowded saloon and made their way to the far end of the bar. At first glance, Ahlen did not like what he saw. He knew there was trouble here just waiting to happen.

  Five men lounged there in an area that was carefully being avoided by other
s at the bar. The men leant with their backs to the marble top surveying the room silently. Steely-eyed fellows, with a worn look about them that typified heartless souls to Ahlen’s way of thinking. He had seen that look so many times before, sometimes on the faces of men released from prisoner-of-war camps and at other times on soldiers returning from a severe engagement which had cost the lives of many of their companions.

  He knew how it felt. A coldness that entered the very core of a man as he defended himself from the horrors he had seen. But these men wore that look as if it was a permanent fixture and they nurtured the condition. They all carried handguns and kept them in plain sight and within easy reach.

  Between them stood a young man, whom Ahlen took to be his nephew. The lad was obviously trying to ape the others as he copied their indolent posture with an affectation that stood out a mile to those that knew. Ahlen took it in at a glance; the hunched shoulders, lowered hat brim shadowing the eyes and a matchstick sticking from between pouting lips. Ahlen shook his head in despair.

  “That’s Charlie Bob?” he asked, with a jerk of his chin.

  Len nodded. “That’s him.”

  Ahlen found it hard to believe as he recalled the cheerful and lively little boy he had left behind.

  “Tread softly,” he warned, his eyes studying the men surrounding the lad.

  “Charlie Bob!” said Len, stepping up.

  The boy jumped at the call, his mind obviously being far away.

  “Pa!” he said awkwardly, the facade slipping a little. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Your uncle’s home. See here, its Ahlen back from the war.”

  The five men’s eyes rotated to fix on Ahlen. A quick appraisal took place and two of them shifted the hardware on their waist to a more accessible position.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Charlie Bob cockily, his attitude returning. “Right. The war hero. What d’you say, Uncle Ahlen?”

  Ahlen said nothing.

  “I think you’d better come home now, Charlie Bob,” Len advised him quietly.