He now realized that there was a very real chance that he may never return to Sara or even find his father. If the passing stranger had been a bit more accurate or just plain lucky, he wouldn’t have had a chance to get a shot off. He could have missed, too. It was a startling revelation, but Jake was pleased when it reminded him of his mortality.
He checked his backtrail again after riding another mile or so and didn’t see the rider, so the episode just became a memory.
_____
Jake stopped for lunch an hour later and after dismounting, let Mars and Vulcan drink at a small pond off the road while he finally opened Charlie’s food pack. He laughed when he realized just how much Charlie had squeezed into the pannier. He found a sack of biscuits on the top, so he took two and closed the flap before taking a canteen from Vulcan. He let them graze some of the tall plains grass that blanketed the area as he munched on Charlie’s tasty biscuits.
He had just popped the last of the biscuits into his mouth when he saw another dust cloud on the western horizon. He wasn’t quite halfway to Fort Shaw, so it was probably just a freight wagon. He mounted Mars and returned to the road. After the recent gunfight, Jake hadn’t bothered replacing his hammer loop, so he was ready if he encountered another problem.
Less than twenty minutes later, he approached the eastbound freight wagon and pulled Mars to a stop. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of the men on the driver’s seat pulled a shotgun. But when they were fifty yards away, Jake waved and smiled. It probably didn’t guarantee that he wasn’t a highwayman, but neither of them seemed worried about him. It was probably because of Mars and Vulcan. The two horses weren’t typical of the animals ridden by outlaws.
When they pulled up, Jake said, “Howdy. I just want to let you know that a rider heading east tried to ambush me after we passed each other. He missed, but I hit him in his left upper arm. I didn’t follow him, and I doubt it he’s in any condition to bother you, but I thought you should know.”
The driver nodded as he said, “I appreciate lettin’ us know about that feller. When we were in Fort Shaw, we saw him leave and thought he might be waitin’ for us along the way. I guess he saw your horses and gear and liked ‘em. If he made it to Fort Benton, we’ll see if he’s there and tell Sheriff Zendt.”
“Tell them that Jake Elliott was the one who shot him.”
The other man exclaimed, “You’re Jake Elliott? Your pa owns the Elk Ranch; don’t he?”
“He does. I’m heading west looking for him. I only returned to the ranch last week and don’t know where he is. I’m heading to Helena which is my best guess. Do you know him?”
“Nope. I just heard the name. Well, good luck, Jake. Hope you find him.”
“So, do I,” Jake replied before he waved and set Mars to a trot.
There had been a brief glimmer of hope that one of them knew his father and might even have spotted him in Helena or Fort Shaw. But it hadn’t lasted long and his chances of finding his father hadn’t improved.
_____
He had passed two more freight wagons and a group of four riders before he spotted Fort Shaw in the distance as the sun was about to meet the mountains to the west. After the last break two hours earlier, Jake had slowed Mars pace. While neither he nor Vulcan was showing any stress, he knew he’d been making good time and could afford to let them take their time for the last leg of the day’s journey.
There was still more than an hour before sunset when he approached the settlement that had grown outside the fort. He knew that he’d probably be better received by the soldiers but suspected that the civilians would have been more likely to have spotted his father. Even if they had seen him, it was unlikely that they would remember his passing.
A few people were watching him as he entered the crooked roadway that passed for their main street. He pulled up outside Stoker Brothers Livery, which was the biggest building in town, then stepped down. He didn’t even need to enter the large barn as both of the Stoker brothers had already stepped through the open doors to admire Mars and Vulcan.
“You got some mighty handsome fellers there, mister,” the older brother said as his sibling passed to inspect Vulcan.
“They’re brothers. Mars is the red gelding and is two years older. Vulcan is the black’s name. I’m Jake Elliott.”
“I’m Amos Stoker and that ugly cuss lookin’ at your packhorse is my younger brother Fred. I’m two years older, too. Are you stayin’ for the night?”
“Maybe. I’m looking for my father. He would have passed through town about three weeks ago. He was riding a brown gelding and was using another brown gelding as a pack horse. You don’t happen to remember seeing him; do you?”
Fred had finished his short examination of Vulcan and had just stepped closer when Jake finished.
Amos looked at his brother and asked, “You told me you saw some feller trailin’ a packhorse, but I don’t recall when it was. Do you remember when that feller passed?”
Fred grinned as he replied, “You bet I do. It was the day Willie Thompkins blew off his pinky finger when he tried to make his own fireworks for the Fourth of July celebration.
