Halloween Mystery 2019

Brothers of Briar

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...why did you have to go and spoil it, Gramps :?: ;)

(Congrats matey!).
 
Brewdude":gr42pdcj said:
Whaaa????? I was just starting to really get into the story. No way could I even begin to work out the whodunnit at this point. Gramps must be psychic or something!!

:scratch:

In any event I sincerely hope Ozzie continues this most excellent tale to conclusion. And I must say that he exhibits a real talent for creative writing. He could be the next Stephen King at this rate!


Cheers,

RR
Elementary, my dear Brewdude--once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Except on Halloween, when the impossible is fair game and what you thought was a crazy guess strikes true!
 
Ocelot55":caf218yj said:
GrampaGrossbart":caf218yj said:
And of course a legendarily massive thank you to our resident wereocelot for carving the prize--I'm a huge fan and am over the (full) moon to see what you come up with!
Congrats! It'll be hard to top the cleaver pipe I made last year, but I am almost done with this year's pipe. I'll have something by the end of the week.
I am so unbelievably stoked, every pipe of yours I've seen has been a masterpiece.

Also, seeing our comments back to back I just noticed we apparently signed up here at the BoB on the same exact day seven years ago--and since we're both named Jesse, and since it's only a few hours until Halloween, clearly one of us is a doppelganger. But which one?
 
GrampaGrossbart":ebhda2fi said:
Ocelot55":ebhda2fi said:
GrampaGrossbart":ebhda2fi said:
And of course a legendarily massive thank you to our resident wereocelot for carving the prize--I'm a huge fan and am over the (full) moon to see what you come up with!
Congrats! It'll be hard to top the cleaver pipe I made last year, but I am almost done with this year's pipe. I'll have something by the end of the week.
we apparently signed up here at the BoB on the same exact day seven years ago--and since we're both named Jesse, and since it's only a few hours until Halloween, clearly one of us is a doppelganger. But which one?
See, now THAT is creepy!

I'm almost ready for the final installment. It's getting slippery, I'm trying to keep a grip on it, so it doesn't go on and on......
 
The whole compliment of riders were gathered in camp when we arrived. The sense of disappointment was palpable as they realized Rabbit was not with us. The group erupted with questions for Sykes as he dismounted and went straight to the chuckwagon and tapped the keg. As he filled his cup the group gathered around him. Without a word he drank the contents like water, some spilling past his moustache, down his chin to the ground. When finished he raised his hand until everyone settled down, and pointed at me.

"Ask the kid," he said as he walked off towards the herd. Everyone turned to me with expectant eyes.

I got off my horse and went to the wagon and the men there. I knew I couldn't just tell them straight out what I had done, for fear of them turning into a lynch mob. I followed Sykes example and poured my self a cup of whiskey, only half, and tossed it back swiftly. After my wincing dance from the fire that coursed down my throat to an empty stomach, I turned to the crowd.

"They had Rabbit dead to rights for killing one of their people for a scalp. They gave us a choice to either dispatch Rabbit ourselves and live to ride on, or they were going to kill him and us. The boss didn't have it in him to do the deed, so I was forced to do it." I looked around at the shocked faces. "I saved our lives."

Danny approached me from behind the group and asked, "So, you killed Rabbit?" I nodded. He grabbed my arm. "There was no trying to fight your way out?" I shook my head. He looked me over a moment, then turned away to walk toward the herd. "C'mon boys, let's see what Mr. Sykes has to say about this!" The group followed him, some looking back at me. One spat on the ground while looking.

It was clear I would have to watch myself from now on. I decided to saddle my best mount and prepare for whatever might come. Besides, the herd needed tending. I was alone as I gathered up what I might need and rode out.

As evening began to cast shadows on the valley, I did my job, chasing loose heads into the main body, and watched for signs of our riders or Screaming Eagle's people. I noticed occasional outriders, but not one ever approached me. I was tempted to just cold camp alone when I noticed Screaming Eagle's medicine chief mounted on a beautiful Paint just the other side of the creek. His eyes never left me as I rode about tending the cows. When I decided to ride to him he abruptly turned and galloped away back up the ridge. He wouldn't go far however. He just watched. I scanned the hillsides for sign of others of his tribe, but never saw any. I decided to head back to camp to inform the others.

I got to camp as the cook was putting out supper. I could feel the groups eyes on me as I got a plate and went to the pot over the fire. Sykes looked up at me and then at Danny and Randy, then back to his plate. The two men caught his look and put there plates down. They came to me at the fire. Danny knocked the plate from my hand, the plate landing dead center of the fire as Randy pushed me back, his hand on the butt of his pistol.

"What the hell do you think you're doin', boy?" He pushed me again. "Think we're going to feed you after murdering poor ol' Rabbit? You know what we do to murders? Injun lover!" With that last comment he slapped me hard across the face and before I could react had his six shooter out and pointed at me. The rest of the men jumped up and grabbed me from behind. Danny went around behind me as well, then I felt the coarse rope being tied around my wrists. I struggled myself to the ground but couldn't get loose as the guys piled onto me.

"Hold him down!"
"Get his feet!"
"Take his gun!"
"I want his boots!"

I began to loose consciousness slightly, a heavy pressure from a knee against my neck, until the group stood me on my feet in front of Sykes. As usual, he finished his plate without a word. AS my head cleared, he tossed the plate aside and stood to face me. He grabbed me by the hair on the top of my head and got close. The fury in his eyes burned into mine.

"William Quinn, you have been found guilty of murdering my senior man, and my best friend. The sentence is death by hanging. Do you have any last words?"

I looked at him blankly. I couldn't believe this was happening. I had saved all of their lives at the cost of a barbaric man with no regard for life. As I stood there, Sykes reached into my coat and produced Rabbit's flask. He looked at it a moment, then at me. He then placed the flask in his coat and said, "Take um boys. Let's get this done."

I was spun around and dragged to my horse, which had been led to a dead Alder tree just outside of camp, complete with a long section of rope, a noose tied on the end. I began to struggle fiercely and ended up back on the ground. I could feel each boot toe as they beat and kicked my body. The pain began to dull slightly, and before I realized it I was in my saddle with the rope cutting into my neck. The tension on the rope told me to stay as still as possible. Sykes was standing in front of me holding the reigns with most of the men around him.

"Better luck in the next world boy," Sykes said as he hung the reigns over the horse's neck. He then nodded to someone behind me, who slapped the horse's rear hard. My mount lurched up and began to run and stopped. I held my feet toes up in the stirrups as the horse moved. My back popped as the rope pulled hard on my neck. Sykes looked on and shouted, "Hit it again!" Another slap, and lurch forward. I was choking. This is it, I thought.

I heard the crack, and felt the tension ease on me. There was shouting as the tree broke and landed on the man behind me. I turned to look and saw that the branch had broken and the rope was loose. I leaned forward and kicked the horse several times to get it running. I heard gunfire behind me as I rode into the marshy area, then off towards the Cheyenne camp.

I arrived at Screaming Eagle's camp after dark, still bound and dragging a long rope from my neck. A brave saw my approach and alerted others, who came and led me into camp by the rope around my neck. They held me for what seemed a long time before Screaming Eagle came out of his wigwam. He took in my condition.

"Bad day Quinn?"

I looked back at him as best I could through blackened eyes swimming with blood from my head. I couldn't speak, though I tried. I coughed some blood and nodded. Screaming Eagle looked me over. He then approached me and cut my hands free. The medicine chief began to protest, speaking too fast for me to catch all the words. I pulled the noose from around my neck as Screaming Eagle had a talk with him. My friend spoke in a calming tone, as the shaman yelled fiercely, waving his right hand at Screaming Eagle and shaking a medicine stick at me in his left. Screaming Eagle seemed to agree which settled down the medicine man. He then turned to me.

"Quinn. You were told to not return here. Sleeping Bear is not happy," he pointed to the shaman. "He says you are Yenaldlooshi. He says you bring evil to us. It appears even your own people believe this," Gesturing to me. "He says we should put you to death for our sake. You should not have come."

I leaned forward. "My friend, " I croaked. Then coughed more blood. "I have nowhere to go. Did I not serve your people by the death of the Rabbit?" Screaming Eagle nodded.

"Yes Quinn."

I swallowed. "Should there not be balance?"

Screaming Eagle looked at me, then turned to Sleeping Bear. They discussed in quiet tones, and when finished the shaman looked at me, shook his stick and began to chant. Screaming Eagle approached me and said, "Yes Quinn. There will be balance. You may ride away unharmed. Do not ask for more." He then placed his hand on my leg.

"Be well Quinn." He then turned away and walked off. Sleeping Bear then approached, still chanting and shaking his stick at me, while the tribe gathered around and escorted me to the top of the ridge. Sadly, I turned to ride off into the night.

Some decisions had to be made. I had very little, a bareback horse and the clothes on my back. I was not welcome at either camp. I decided to head back to the herd. When I got within earshot of the cattle, I made a bed and slept.

When I awoke, it was quite late in the day. The dried blood on my face had sealed my right eye shut, not that it wasn’t already swollen. It was apparent the herd had been driven on as the only sign was of cow patties and hoofprints. I went to the creek to wash up and drink. I went to last night's camp, and brought the fire back to life. Then searching the camp area found my boot knife which had fallen out during the struggle, Sykes' fork from last night's supper, and a half eaten biscuit. As I finished the biscuit, I tucked the tools into my pockets. I was hoping to find a pair of discarded boots, to no avail. I then went back to the creek and made a weir, caught a couple of fish and brought them back to camp. While they cooked over the fire I planned my next move.

Well, I was going to Montana anyway………..

I ghosted the herd the following day, and began picking my next prey. Sykes was riding point man. I would save him for last.

The first kill I made was Danny. He was riding drag. He was easy. Didn't hear me coming. He always was a noisy rider, talking to himself constantly. I relieved him of his kit and clothes, mount and weapons. They would be useful.

That night I watched quietly as the crew searched for Danny. There was much discussion about what could have happened to him around the campfire. Sykes continued his habit of eating and listening. Some wanted to ride out and look for Danny. Others didn't want to leave the safety of the camp. Talk was scattered, as was the herd. The numbers were getting smaller. I imagined I was not the only one following their progress. When Sykes finished with his meal he ordered the men to tend the cattle, to which they reluctantly acquiesced.

I took three more that evening before first light.

In the morning I watched as the remaining cowboys left camp, either to tend the remaining herd or to search for their missing comrades, it was hard to tell which. They were scattered, and riding about so fast there seemed to be no organization left to the group. Even the cook had to ride out, as their numbers were down to a couple of Good Old Boys, Randy, Sykes and the cook. Too few to watch over the drive anymore. With camp abandoned, I carefully slipped in and helped myself to some food and water, some ammunition and rope. While rummaging around I came upon some of Rabbit's personals, among which was his flask. I filled that with whiskey and tucked it back into my coat.

I decided to release the spare horses, as they would soon be unneeded. Before I left camp I torched the chuckwagon. The smoke was intense and black. I had to go before the crew realized what was happening.

I rode up to a high spot in the terrain that overlooked the scene. A vast open plain with the herd moving along, Sykes in front with the lead bull. They were just beginning to move out. I watched and saw the cook see the smoke and ride back to camp. I never saw him again.

Randy was on my side of the herd, so he would be next. I went down the ridge to meet him. He saw me coming and rode up fast.

"Danny! Hey Danny!" he shouted as he rode up. When he got closer he slowed, then stopped about twenty feet away.

"Hello Randy," I said. "Nice boots."

"You son of a bitch!" he shouted as he reached for his gun. I pulled mine first and held my aim.

"Hands up," I said quietly. "Get off your horse." As he dismounted I did also, careful to keep my aim true. "Take my boots off and walk away."

"We shoulda shot you, you son of a bitch," he hissed at me as I approached, watching him hop about on one foot trying to remove my boots. I got up close to him and grabbed him by his shirt.

"Recun so," I replied as I drew a line across his throat with my boot knife.

"Recun so."

He clutched at his throat and fell over sideways, gurgling profanities and squirming in the dirt. When he stopped moving I knelt down and relieved him of my footwear, then sat next to him as I swapped boots. His vacant stare at the sky told me he was finished.

"What a waste," I whispered to myself.

Before night fell I watched as the remaining two riders were ambushed by Apache braves, who killed them and stole a small handful of cattle from the rear. Only Sykes remained.

I waited until dark to approach Sykes, alone, in front of a small campfire. He was very quiet. The dry wood crackling as it burned was the only sound. I walked up opposite the fire and sat down. He didn't even look up.

"Hello Billy. I was wondering when you'd get around to me." As he looked up he revealed two revolvers in his hands, hammers back. "I've been waiting."

I slowly removed the flask from my coat, and pulled the cork. Without looking away I slowly took a pull, then recorked it and offered it to Sykes. He leaned back surprised, slowly lowered one gun and nodded. I tossed it over the fire to him, and he caught it. Pulling the cork with his teeth, he spat it away and took a long drink. We looked at each other in silence for a while, his gun hand never wavering. He then finished the bottle and threw that aside.

"Well Billy, what's it gonna be son?"

I looked at him. "It doesn't have to be anything sir," I replied. "I am sorry about Rabbit. It was the only thing that would have saved our lives, what I did. I'm also sorry about the rest of the crew." I shook my head. "Such a waste."

Sykes studied me. "So, now you're gonna kill me, like you did the rest? It doesn't look like your in the position to do anything but get yourself shot," He lifted the other pistol at me. "I believe you're at a disadvantage son."

I looked at him. "It would seem so," I said. "There are options though sir."

"What might those be?" he asked. "I'm about to blow your head off." He aimed.

At that moment the fire let out a loud 'pop!' and sparks flew. I rolled off to the side in a flash and was in the darkness. He fired wildly, both pistols blazing away in all directions. I counted to myself,

'Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven……..'

Sykes looked around blindly, wild eyed and in a panic.

"Billy!?" he shouted.

I came up behind him with my blade to his throat. "Right here," I whispered. He dropped one gun to the ground. "The other one too sir," I said.

He spun quickly around to aim. All I did was hold the knife as he cut his own throat and fired his last bullet into my shoulder. We both fell to the ground. My knife was sharp and did a good job, but his aim was sloppy and I was not seriously injured. I sat next to him as he bled out…….



"What happened then Grandpa?"

I looked down at the three grandchildren gathered around the firepit. Their eyes were wide, and their marshmallows burning on their little sticks. I smiled.

"Well, I took what cattle I could and drove them up here to Miles City, where I met your grandmother, got married and started this ranch. The rest, as they say, is history. Better get some new sweets on those sticks kids, they look a bit well done."

The older child was skeptical. "That didn't really happen, did it Grandpa? That was just a scary campfire story for Halloween, wasn't it?"

I stood up and removed my coat and opened my shirt to show them the scar from the bullet that Sykes hit me with, so many years ago. "See that? That's where he shot me buddy." They stared in wonder as I buttoned up my shirt and began to put my coat back on when the old flask fell out. I picked it up from the ground and as I was about to take a drink I heard a voice from the porch holler out, "None of that in front of the children Billy! You kids come inside now before you catch your death out there!" As the grandchildren went past her they told her of the story I told them and she said 'not to mind that nonsense,' and 'It's just a scary story for Halloween." When they were inside she came to the fire and sat down next to me, hand outstretched. I handed her the flask, and she took a drink, then handed it back. As I drank, she just shook her head and said, "I really wish you hadn't told them that story sweetie, they're going to have night terrors." I looked at her kindly and said,

"It's just a story hunny, they'll be fine." She looked over at me.

"Is it?"
 
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:cheers:


Cheers,

RR
 
Bravo, Wiz. What a read! I enjoyed every moment of it. Didn’t even get the chance to pull the trigger myself, Gramps was so quick!

On a personal note, thank you Wiz.
 
...damn, Ozzie, you know how to end a yarn. So much for the Apple Dumpling Gang! What a killer piece of writing. Bravo, and thanks again for all your hard work!

And thanks, too, to everyone else for chiming in along the trail and offering congrats--been a very memorable ride for sure! We've got a really great community.
 
I am just blown away. Phenomenal work, Jesse, thank you again so much—now we’ll see if I can work up the moxie to smoke it! Afraid of what I might see in the fumes...
 
Very striking, Jesse. Thank you for once again providing the prize. What are you calling it?
 
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