The River Keep

It occurs to me that this is more than just a place to camp for the late Orlis Keene and his men. As their stinking clothes bubble away in the stew pot, we each take a piece of wood from the fire to use as a torch and look around the immediate area.

Outlaws had their hideouts; Jessie James had Meramec Caverns, Butch Cassidy had the Hole in the Wall, and Orlis Keene had Salt River Canyon. This is what they call home, and is their base of operations for the immediate area. This is where plans are made and wounded are repaired. Where strong boxes are opened and treasures divided.

Orlis Keene had a long run in these parts, robbing everything from military supply wagons to stagecoaches to trade caravans. His keep here in Salt River Canyon is stashed with every manner of loot, with the exception of cash money or gold, which is most likely divided by the men when they come upon it and spent with wild abandon.

We do find gold, silver dollars, and some coin in the pockets of the clothing we have stripped off the men. Then there is the bags they took off of Seedling. All of his stuff is in one pile. Out of respect for his privacy we leave his gear alone.
There are cases of whiskey, several bottles of what must be tequila. While our clothing cooks, we each take a bottle and try to forget the latest carnage.

Mike draws a torch from the flames and starts out into the brush looking carefully at the ground.
"What the hell are you doing." Andy says as he takes a pull from his whiskey. He winces as it goes down.
"I'm looking for a little sage or something for those rabbits."
"Why don't you look in the box over there." He sloshes the bottle when he uses it as a pointer. Mike looks in that direction and sees a large wooden crate.
"What's in it?"
"Now that would be the point of looking inside." Andy takes another pull off the bottle, no wincing, and leans back on his elbows.

Mike makes his way over to the box and holds his torch low. "Hey, there's a fork and a spoon painted on this thing."
"There you go." Andy slurs.

He opens the box and sinks his hand in its depths, pulling out a massive iron frying pan. He lets it drop to the ground and then pulls several canisters from the box and holds them up in turn to the torchlight.
"Hey, red pepper... salt... and dried garlic?"

Antonelli raises his head up from whatever it is he is digging through.
"Now you're talking. Cook up those rabbits... lots of garlic."

Mike digs through the box, setting everything out on the desert floor, taking a careful inventory. Without another word he begins to prepare what will be the first real meal we will eat since leaving the boat.

After an hour of digging through this stash we are eating rabbit seasoned with Mike's find. We have removed the clothing from the cauldron and are now letting it dry at the fire's edge. Each set looks like a macabre scarecrow, dancing with reflecting firelight and the slight breeze cutting up the canyon. At one point we all stop eating and talking, our eyes on the scarecrows... collectively it seems we have heard a voice.

Lou draws Orlis' pistol and waits. We are all on alert, grabbing up guns... Andy grabs his bow and arrow, apparently his weapon of choice from now on. It isn't until we hear the little song Seedling sings. He interrupts himself to call out toward the fire.

"I heard three shots. I heard 'em, clear as day. Thar were all them other shots, but them last three... that was the signal, weren't it?"

He stops at the edge of the fire, apparently talking to one of the scarecrows and not to us. It's not until Ole Bess pulls him along that he sees us sitting on the other side of the bonfire.

"Hungry, Seedling?"
"Can't say that I am. Just ate a slab of dried beef and a little hard tack." He holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the light. "You boys all alive?"

"Alive and kicking." Lou stands and takes a pull off of a half empty bottle of Red Eye.
"What? Camp abandoned when you boys got here?"
"Nope."
"You stand tall in front of Orlis Keene?"
"Yep."
"I'll be dipped."

We tell the story as we all sit around the fire gulping whiskey and tequila. When one of us tells a piece of the story, Seed jumps in with a "you don't say" or "you foolin' me?" He had a hard time believing that Lou got the best of Orlis Keene. It wasn't until each of us told the same story from a different view that he stopped with the denial and decided that we were telling the truth.

"Well that puts you on top. Sure as shit, you must be one hell of a gunfighter."
Lou takes a long pull off of the Red Eye and passes it to Seed, who takes a gulp and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I did what I had to do." Lou tells him.
"If you bested Orlis Keene then my hat's off to ya." He takes another pull off the bottle and passes it back.

We finish the rabbit and some type of water grass that Mike pulled from the river. Seasoned up it was a welcome addition to the meal. Before long Andy is snoring away, Mike joining in within minutes. The whiskey and the days events have taken their toll.

For the next few hours it is a bit of show and tell with the treasures we find in the different areas of the keep. Ollie comes up with a bull whip, cracking it near the fire... making sparks fly. I jump out of my skin at the sound of it.
"Whoa, Indiana... you scared the hell out of me."
"No sea un afeminado." Ollie tells me.

I look at Lou, who looks at Antonelli, who tells me... "I think he called you a sissy."
I look at Ollie and he smiles and shakes his head like that isn't what he said.
"Sissy?"
"Justo bromear, mi amigo."
"Yeah... you better be." I run my index finger across my throat as though that might be the end of him. He just laughs a maniacle tequila laugh and cracks the whip into the fire, the sparks climb high into the night sky.

"That thar Mexican gonna get all liqoured up and start trouble?" Seedling seems a little uneasy.
"That Mexican is from Guatamala and is a descendant of Aztec Gods." I tell him.
"Now I reckon that's just a tall tale. You boys are pulling my... "
The whip cracks twice in quick succession and an over hanging branch, already scorched from the bonfire, is separated from the tree and falls into the fire with a mushroom cloud of sparks and flame. Seedling backs nervously away from the fire and makes himself busy doing something with Bess.

"Hey, I have a couple of things to share." Lou steps into the shadows for a moment and brings back rawhide saddle bags. From inside the first bag he pulls a long pipe covered in places with hand sewn animal hide, ornamental feathers, rawhide stripes adorned with beads and the like.

"You smokum peace pipe?" I ask him. "Too bad we don't have some of that Nogales window box."

"Hey, this comes with all the bells and whistles." He pulls a little hide pouch out of the saddle bag and throws it to me. I catch it and turn it over in my hands.
"What is this?"
"I think it's a buffalo scrotum."
I drop it in the dirt and give him a look. He smiles.
"Open it, Nancy."
I open the pouch and catch a whif of mother natures finest... for this time and place.
"No way."

Antonelli is looking on, "What is it? Candy?"
Lou has me throw it back.
"Candy? What the fuck? This is cannabis." Lou pulls a load out and packs it in the pipe.

"You boys ain't priests, none like I ever heard." Seedling reaffirms from the shadows, interrupting a little song he was singing to himself.

When the pipe is ready, Lou finds a long stick and holds it in the fire until it lights. He puffs the peace pipe to life and myself, Ollie, and Antonelli sit back and hold a few hits of this wraspy shit.

"This shit would make better rope."
"Wait for it." Lou says as he releases his second hit.
Even though this is some harsh stuff, it puts the buzz to you just the same. We sit and pass the pipe for what seems like the better part of an hour.

"Seedling? You want to smoke the peace pipe?"
He ambles out of the darkness, slapping the dirt off of his pants.
"Don't mind if I do. I been known to sit down with guide or two and take a puff. Puts your mind at ease... makes the stars look nice."
Ollie passes the pipe to Seedling and Seed makes sure to wipe the end off before he takes a hit.
"Seen me a starbernard one time smokin' this stuff."
"Starbernard?" Antonelli asks, taking the pipe from him and taking a long, slow hit... now used to the edge it has.
"Big dog, kind of a... "

Lou stands, "I have something else to show you boys."
He pulls a journal from his pocket and opens it up to one of the last pages that has writing.
"This is a Orlis' personal journal." He turns it around and looks at the pages.
"He was a thinking man, a planner. For an outlaw he had some good project management experience."

Lou tosses the book to me. I look at the marked page.
"These are... train schedules?"
"No, I think they are stage coach schedules. There are no tracks near these parts, are there Seedling?"

Seed hits the pipe and passes it Ollie's way. "Well now, I know of a line out of Old Mexico, and one up north a way. But no... no tracks that would be in riding distance for them fellars." He gestures to the bodies at the fires edge.

"So... why would he be keeping a list of these particular stages and times." Lou takes the book from my hands and gives offers it to Seedling who takes it and turns the pages toward the fire light.

"I reckon Orlis was a plannin' to take a few more strong boxes. 'Cept these here stages carry some heavy armor and extra riders on shotgun."

"Why is that?" I ask, breathing out a long stream of rope smoke.
"Cause them stages carry gold from here to the main banks on the rail line."

The Taking of Orlis Keene

We watch the men as they pass our position. I think I might just piss myself. Good thing we are getting new clothes. I can see where Antonelli took a dive into the scrub. They don't see him yet, but will in another twenty feet or so.

Lou scrambles across the path with Ollie and now I am alone, pistol in hand... hard to hold with sweaty palms. I touch the cartridge belt that is looped around my neck and shoulder, then with a nervous twitch I cock the piece. That slight noise is enough to stop the men in their tracks. Shit on a stick.

The horses turn back on the trail, as they do the man with the holster in front sees Lou and in an instant his gun is coming out. His partner drops the reigns and starts to draw the two guns at his side. In this moment I feel paralyzed, unable to do a thing but watch what is to unfold. But down deep I know that inaction is death.

I stand and in an instant my pistol discharges. I start to drop to one knee... peeling off my next shot like Lou had shown me, trigger pulled and fan the hammer. At the same time the outlaw drawing both pistols takes a round from me and a horrendous blast from behind as Antonelli opens a hole through him with the scattergun.

In this same moment shots are fired by the quickdraw and Lou dives to his left, gun blazing until three shots and have found their mark. In addition, Ollie's Bowie knife gives the man a nice place to hang his hat in the center of his chest. The men fall from their mounts and bleed into the crags and scrub. There is no way of stopping this now. The lid is off and the clock is running.

Antonelli steps up and we try our best in the moment to gather a strategy. Before a word is said, rifle shots ring out from the lookout. At first a scattered volley, but then carefully placed shots as first one rider comes into our view, and then... just for a moment the second. In that instant the second rider falls, taken by the Sharps, I am told by Lou who surely knows the sound. The second rider spurs his horse and gains speed. Another shot from the Sharps and he too is hit and he slumps forward in the saddle... horse blazing the trail back to camp. He is not dead, but from the looks of it he might have taken one in the shoulder or back.

Lou climbs up on quickdraw's mount and I toss him the man's hat. At least in this waining light of day and the shadows that are swallowing up this canyon he might get farther if he at least resembles the man that lay dead at my feet. He pulls a repeating rifle from its scabbard on the saddle and makes sure it is loaded. As we reload our pistols, Andy and Mike run down the trail to join us... Andy cussing up a storm about his rifle.

"These sites are off."
Antonelli laughs, "Is that why you can't hit the ground with your hat?"
"I fired four shots and none of them went where I aimed."
Lou looks up from his gun, "Nice shooting, Mike."
"How did you know it was me?"
"I know the sound of a Sharps... and that was some nice shooting."
Andy tisks.
Mike blushes just slightly, "Thanks."

Ollie grabs the rifle from the scabbard of the two-gun fighter and feeds a couple more rounds into the cartridge trap door on its side. Lou sees what he is doing and asks him to trade rifles. Ollie's has a large loop reloading lever that will allow Lou to use it with one hand. The trade is made without question. He takes another pistol for good measure.

Within a minute or two of the latest exchange of gunfire we have Antonelli on the horse the relief man rode in on. His clothing and the horse might fool someone at a distance. Myself and Lou take the horses that just lost their riders. Weapons are loaded and adrenaline is properly coursing through our veins. Already starting down the trail is Ollie, Andy, and Mike. They will position themselves to provide rifle fire into the camp from a safe but accurate distance.

The three of us ride down the trail and pass the boys. Ahead and to the right is the river. It is knee deep at what looks to be the best place to cross, but exposed to the outlaw camp. If we don't cross here any cover we might have will be blown. If they make us while crossing our shit is hanging in the wind.
Lou takes up point and whispers back to get in a single file behind him.

I give some thought to this Orlis Keene. If he is as bad-ass as we are led to believe, then maybe he won't think anyone could have bested his men. I think this is what Lou is thinking, although there is no time to discuss it. So in we ride, crossing the river, one after the other, Lou in a familiar hat, with pistol, rifle, and a prayer at hand.

We see two men at the raging campfire in the fraction of a second before things get hot. In from the shadows rides the man that Mike has wounded. This alerts the two we see and they pull their weapons as they go to the side of the wounded rider and pull him from his horse. They look through the fire at us as we cross from the river into the camp. One of them calls to us, a name... Grady. From up in the rocks behind them the shooting starts, the third man who is in a position to see that we are not who they think we are.

From behind us and across the river a shot rings out. One of the men behind the fire falls face first into the blaze. We split from behind Lou and each of us cuts to one side of camp, firing at the men at the fire and the man in the rocks. Chris and I jump off the horses and drop, trying to make each shot count as we unload into the shapes on the other side of the flames. Gunfire pours from the direction of the campfire, but slows as the lead poisoning becomes too much for them to handle.

As we dispatch the second gunman and the injured rider, Lou is still on horseback and heading to the rise behind the camp. In one hand he fires the pistol, the other hand fires the rifle, expertly swinging it around with that large-loop reloading lever to jack another cartridge into the breach before firing the next round.

"They say he has Grit." I tell Antonelli.
"That's big talk for a one eyed fat man." He tells me.
"I don't get it." I say back.

Lou fires the rifle both weapons until they are spent. He tosses them and dismounts. It is now that we see Orlis Keene, a legend in his own mind. He shows himself, now certain that he will best this stranger.
"You make a big mistake."
"What might that be?"
"If I were you I would have kept the rifle and fall back. You're in the kill zone, my friend, with no rounds left."

Lou stands and shows the holster and weapon at his side.
Orlis comes down out of the trees and scrub and stands about fifty feet in front of Lou, the light at the fire's edge giving a flickering of illumination.

"Hell... he looks just like Lou." Antonelli says in a low voice.

We watch as the two men face off, Orlis sizing up the man in front of him.
"You ever kill anyone face to face? It isn't for the weak of heart."
"I've killed plenty."

I have the urge give verification on that point, but don't.

"Well now, you think you're man enough to take me in a gunfight? I not too sure you are very well informed."
"How so?" Lou is completely on edge. If the guy blinks his eyes wrong I am sure he'll kill him before he draws his next breath.
"Don't you know who I am?"
"Yeah, I know."

The lack of respect in this whole conversation has Orlis seeing red.
"I AM ORLIS KEENE, BOY."

Uh oh, he called him boy.

Keene flinches. I am sure he meant to go for his gun, but the move didn't get further than that initial start. Lou pulls the gun in a heartbeat and puts two rounds through him. Orlis manages to unholster his weapon and fire, but as he drops to his knees the shots go wild off into the settling night. He stays up long enough to get a good look at Lou, who walks up to him.

"Looks like you met your match."
Orlis chokes a little and we can see the blood pouring from the corner of his mouth.
"Who are you?" He wavers and then falls face first into the scrub, his spirit not waiting for the answer.

Lou removes the man's gunbelt and pulls the weapon from his loosening grip. To the victor goes the spoils. As he stands we all wait for a moment, listening in the darkness. We hear only the rush of the river. This must have been it, all of them.

"Call them in." Lou says in a low, almost trans-like voice. I understand.

"All clear, boys. Come on in."

Ollie peels off three quick shots in succession from his rifle, remembering what Lou had told Seedling. Andy and Mike bring up the rear as the three of them cross the river and come into the fire-light.

There isn't a soul left alive. Orlis Keene's band of outlaws have terrorized their last of the towns folk, soldiers, and Indians alike.

"Man... " Antonelli rolls Orlis Keene on his back. "That guy looks a lot like you, Lou. I mean, you could be brothers."

We all look at him, nodding before we start looking through the gear they have piled up near the fire.
"Hey, look at this." Andy holds up a bow and quiver of arrows.

"It's even harder to hit something with one of those than that rifle you couldn't shoot for shit." Antonelli calls to him as he digs through a set of saddle bags that are on the ground near the fire.
"Alright... now you're talking." He holds up a bottle of what might be tequila.

We are there looking through shit for a minute or two. It is long enough to bring our thoughts back that might have strayed. We hear a sound... like a bull running through the brush. I look at Lou and he at me. The big man, the one that took the Clarok, he isn't one of the men we have seen today. As we process this thought, he comes barreling out of the darkness, a shotgun blast that has pellets whizzing by us. Another blast, this time low. We have dropped to the ground and the blast would have knee-capped us had we not moved.

From behind us an arrow flies, burying itself into the man's chest. Then another, and another, until it looks as though he has them growing out of him. He stops all forward motion and grabs and the arrow shafts, snapping two of them... looking at them before he falls back. When he hits the ground we feel it move beneath us.

Andy stands, bow in one hand, an arrow pulled back... ready to fire in the other.
Antonelli's jaw is hanging open. Had it been able to move I am sure he would retract the comment he made minutes ago.

All is safe for now. We locate the Clarok from where the Bull had made his entrance. They must have realized it was worth enough to keep it hidden and away from camp. We all agree to boil these clothes before we wear them any longer. The corpses are stripped, as well as the six of us. We don our robes and the wicked stew of filthy clothing is bubbling away in the largest cook-pot we can find.

We have horses, guns, and money. We have whiskey, tequila, and even four rabbits that these guys must have killed for dinner. We will wait for Seedling, wait for sunlight, before we continue.

Thinning them out

We huddle off the trail and listen to a plan that is being hatched in Lou's mind seconds before he speaks the words. He has been trained to think on his feet for moments like this, and what training hasn't provided experience fills in.
"Ollie, you and Mike get that man's body out of sight."
They are still huddled with us, listening.
"Do it now... not time to waste."
The two of them hustle off to the task.

Lou sizes up Andy for a moment. Apparently he sees what he needs to see.
"Andy, you take the rifle and man the guy's post. We need his relief to think he is still on duty."
Lou leans in to verify what I think we all have noticed. Andy stinks like a Turkish prison. In fact everyone we have encountered... Seedling, the dead at the wagon, and the outlaw Lou dispatched.
"We should have burned those clothes."
Andy's jaw stiffens. "No... no way. Just need to wash them. I'll stick it out."
"Okay. If you can bear it I guess we can too. Better head out."

There is no complaint, no trying to get out of it. He just grabs the rifle, checks the load, and heads back to the overlook. I'm half thinking that if the relief gets by Lou that Andy will kill the guy himself.

"Wow." My remark plies a knowing look from Lou.
"He has a whole other set of balls since we left the boat."

Ollie and Mike have moved the body and are now back. We all take our places. Lou runs up to the lookout, having modified his plan and needing to share it with Andy. Me and Antonelli are positioned so we can assist Lou if need be, or take the man out if Lou fails. Ollie and Mike are positioned further back on the trail that leads back to the outlaw camp in case we all fail and they have to take the rider out.

After Lou talks to Andy and then takes his hiding place, Andy grabs the bottle and his rifle, making sure the bottle is visible in his hand before lowering the brim of his hat. He looks like someone who has passed out from a little too much whiskey while fighting off the boredom of watch.

We don't have long to wait before the rider climbs out of the canyon below. He calls ahead, probably just to warn of his approach.

"Henry?" He hits the top of the trail and from our position we can see that he is one of the larger men. Maybe that huge guy that picked up our Clarok. As he continues, he keeps calling the man's name... fucking with him.
"Henry Carter... this is the law come to gitcha. Get off your lazy ass and come up fer yer hangin'."

He rides passed us and then toward Andy, who hasn't moved and is now doing a pretty good job of snoring.
"You bin sleepin' on watch?" He rides up behind Andy and dismounts. "Orlis'll skin your ass for that one." When he is in right behind Andy he seems to notice something isn't right.
"Henry?"
Lou comes up from hiding and is on him before he knows what is happening. The knife is out, Lou leaps up on the man's back just long enough to draw the knife across his throat, then jumps back to the ground. The man turns, mortally wounded but not ready to give up the ghost. He catches Lou with a wicked roundhouse punch that takes him off his feet. I am pretty sure he thought he cut the guy deep enough, but he is just too big. Now Lou is out as the guy falls like a mighty oak. Once he has hit the ground Andy springs to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His hands shake as he pulls Lou up... who wobbles a bit but then shakes it off.

We assemble around them and pull the man's body so the head is pointing down hill, kicking the outlaw's hat to the side as well.
Andy looks a little puzzled.
"Why did we just do that?"
Ollie pulls the boots and gun belt, saying something in mother tongue.
"We need the clothes." Antonelli translates. "Not the blood."

Lou holds his jaw, moving it this way and that... wincing with the motion.
"It's not broken." He reports.
"You pussy." I make the comment seconds before a punch to my upper arm reminds me that this may not be the time.

Chris seems to be the best fit for the clothes from this recent victim. It isn't the behemoth that we watched as he rode off with out Clarok. He is still down there in the camp.

There is something inheirantly nasty about donning these clothes. It isn't because they are removed from a dead man... that, under the circumstances wouldn't be the bad part. The bad part is that these guys just stink.
"Oh... Jesus." Antonelli wretches as he puts the pants and shirt on. He starts a chain reaction and we all hold back puking up the little bit of food we have eaten. Chris holds up a hand, as if to say "hold on... I've got this". He puts the man's hat on. A little small, so he sets it more on the back of his head.

"That won't work." Lou tells him, taking the hat off his head. He still holds the knife in his hand, crimson where it had sliced into the man's arteries. He wipes it off and then cuts the band out of the inside of the hat.
"Try that."
Antonelli dons the hat and it fits better than it did.

We inventory the man's weapons. The Sharps rifle is a prize. Good for long distance sniper style shooting. The man carried two pistols and a pair of cartridge belts that crossed his massive frame. Last but not least a Bowie knife. Ollie pulls it from the sheath and looks at it for a moment, weighing the blade in his hand. Then he removes the sheath and leather tie from the body.

"Well, I guess Ollie wants the knife." I report.
Lou checks both pistols, trying the weight. He opts to keep the one he has on. Antonelli takes a pistol, me the other. Mike picks up the rifle.
"Do you boys mind if I shoot the rifle? I am a pretty good shot back home."

I look at Lou, who shrugs, "That's fine, Mike."
Andy retrieves the cartridge belt for the rifle he is holding.
"You know how to use that?" Lou asks.
"I am an expert marksman." Andy reports, back in the button up mode of the past several months.

After walking the horse away from the trail and securing it, we follow the trail back down the mountain, slowly but surely. We watch the other side of the canyon like hawks... searching for possible counterparts to the men we have dispatched. We find none. The perch where we found the look-out had a view of the approach for many miles. There must be no need to place a man on the opposite side of the canyon.

Lou's plan to wait until dark isn't going to happen. As we make our way down toward the outlaw camp we can hear a commotion. They realize that the first man we killed hasn't come back down. Two men on horseback are riding up the trail toward our position. Two more are riding up the other side of the river to where they will be able to see and communicate with the look-out. It seems like the two coming up to our position will make it before the others get to where they can yell up to the look-out. If Ollie's count was correct that leaves three in camp. One of them will be Orlis Keene, the fastest and deadliest gun in these parts.

Lou wave's Andy and Mike over.
"You two head back up to the look-out. If these guys make it passed us, then you will have to take them out. If not, then you have those two on the other side of the river. Once you hear the gunfire, you better take them. We need to thin these boys out. If you have a clean shot, then take them anyway. Better two than none."

They sit the for a second, not sure whether to go or not. This is it, time to kill. There is no second place. Andy makes a move and tows Mike out of the gathering. They head back up the trail, rifles at the ready. Lou toys with the thought of sending Antonelli back up to the look-out to pose as their man, but we can't afford to be any more outnumbered than we are.

Ahead of us, the trail comes up out of their camp, winds back around a corner, then up toward us. We watch as two of the men slowly ride up the trail, disappearing behind the corner. We can hear them talking as the ascend the canyon wall. Once they appear we will have about thirty seconds until they are on us.
"We should let them pass." I whisper to Lou, who nods. He is thinking the same thing I am. We have a better chance at surprising them from behind. We look to Antonelli who gives his acknowledgement and tells us he is going to move up the trail to give another dimension to this trap. He will wait for us to make our move, then show himself, pistol in one hand... scatter gun in the other.

Across the river we watch the other two riders head downstream to view the look-out.
They are moving faster than we would like. We don't want them in position before we are able to take out our two riders. That will give us a chance to assess the situation in camp. We are in the only spot on the trail with a limited view of the river below. It may give us a chance to take these guys without Orlis and the remaining men seeing us.

I hope that Andy and Mike don't get antsy and peel off a shot before they are ready.

Around the corner they come. A couple of mean looking bastards cussing up a storm about the fact they were rousted to come up and see what the hell is going on. They don't have their guns drawn, but one of them has his to the front left. A sure sign that he is a quick draw, especially from horseback where the trip from reigns to pistol is a split second away.