Chapter 37
Empty Barrels Make The Most Noise
As Esben approached the outskirts of Bosler, he withdrew his Springfield rifle from its’ scabbard and laid it across Kodah’s withers. With all that happened, he wasn’t sure how he would be accepted in this town, seeing as he was dressed in Sioux buckskin clothing. He noticed a gathering of close to fifty men on the steps in front of the Spinning Spur Saloon. Most were on foot but there were about a half dozen sitting on horseback listening to someone talk. Esben moved in with the others on horseback. Nobody paid much attention to him as they were listening intently to the little man on the steps give his speech. The speaker was none other than I.P. Olive. His eyes were small, black and shiny, like a snake’s, and they were furtively darting around from one person to the next. Sweat was standing out on his forehead and staining the collar of his white shirt as the heat of the morning was beginning to rise. He was wearing a black coat with a black vest and gold watch chain hanging from his pocket. He had two guns strapped high around his waist with the butts facing forward ready for a crossover draw. His ample belly hung below his gun belt impeding any fast draw he might attempt. He would occasionally raise his right arm and point in the direction north of town and people would dutifully turn their heads and follow the direction of his fingers. Olive had two of his men standing around him keeping an eye on the crowd that was gathering.
One of the men was the big cowboy named Gavin that Esben got in a fight with at the roadhouse north of town and the other was much smaller and younger and he looked in Esben’s direction and stared at him with his rifle laying across Kodah’s withers. Their eyes locked as his hand went down to the butt of his gun and stayed there. Esben immediately recognized him as the Texas Kid. He had a reputation for shooting first and asking questions later. Esben was told he was one of the three cowboys who rode with Olive when he went to kill Little Elk’s father and the other Brule Indians. After a time, he looked away.
“It’s time we quit this Sunday school policy and let Sheridan recruit regiments of Western Pioneer hunters and scouts and kill every Indian in the Wyoming Territory, cried Olive, pointing and yelling to the crowd.
The best use to make of an Indian is to kill him. It is time that the dawdling, maudlin peace policy was abandoned. The Indian can never be subdued by Quakers, and it is certain that he will never be subdued by such madcap charges as that made by Custer.”
A few men in the crowd were beginning to join in and I could feel the tension growing.
“You’re right there, Olive, a young man close to Esben’s age yelled. We gotta git ‘em first ‘fore they git us.”
“Listen men, Olive said, I am putting together a vigilante regiment to run those damn Indians off that Brule Reservation near all of our ranches. They are just too damn close to me for comfort. They could ride down and kill me and my men and steal my livestock before General Crook or General Terry could have their men outta bed and their horses tacked. Then you’d be next and they wouldn’t stop until all of our scalps were hangin’ from their lodge poles.
I got a dozen of my boys ridin’ with me. Who in this town wants to join me?”
As a chorus of “Count me in”, rose from the crowd, Esben turned Kodah around and slowly started to ride away. He heard a voice behind him and put his hand on Kodah’s haunches and turned around .
“Where are you goin’ Injun?”
It was the Texas Kid. He had stepped off the steps and was standing in the street behind the crowd. His legs were spread in a gun fighter’s stance and his hands were resting on the butt of his guns, which were hanging low on each hip. He was equipped to draw fast. That Esben knew.
Slowly Esben pulled back the hammer on the Springfield Buffalo Rifle. If needed, all he would have to do is lightly squeeze the trigger and he could blow the Kid through the doors of the Spinning Spur Saloon.
He approached the Texas Kid slowly and turned Kodah sideways so the barrel of his rifle was pointing directly at the Kid’s belly.
“I’m not an Indian”, Esben said.
“Then why ain’t you stayin’ an’ signin’ up with the rest of us to kill ‘em?”
“You go ahead and kill who you want to and I’ll kill who I want to”, he replied, staring into the eyes of I.P. Olive who had stepped off the veranda and stood to the left of The Texas Kid.
Olive’s mouth dropped open as if he was about to say something, but nothing came out. Sweat was now running down the side of his face as Esben’s eyes bore into his and he was dabbing it with a white handkerchief. Esben noticed movement below him in the direction of the Texas Kid. Without taking his eyes off Olive, he said to the Kid.
“Don’t even think about it. I know you are fast, but nobody is that fast. All I have to do is twitch this finger and you’ll have a hole in your belly I could ride this horse through.”
Finally Olive was able to speak.
“Come on boys, let’s get out of this heat and go inside the Spur. I’ll buy drinks for all who sign up”.
There was a lot of murmuring among the men as they stepped into the Silver Spur Saloon.
“We’re not through with this yet, Injun’,” the Texas Kid said as he dropped his hands to his side and walked away.
“I expect we’re not”, Esben replied,
Esben noticed the big cowboy, Gavin McVey standing on the bottom step, looking at him and saw the recognition fall across his face.
“Hey, I know you boy. Don’t come back here or I will finish what I started before and I can guarantee that you won’t be able to walk away.
“I’ll try to remember that,” Esben said, before he turned and continued on his way.
Now Esben was getting close to Olive and it wouldn’t be long before he would kill him. But first, he had to head to the Brule Reservation and let Little Elk and the rest of the Sioux know what was brewing down river in the town of Bosler.