March 2026
The brothers were two ridges away when they heard the shooting. By the time they arrived at a point where they could see what was happening, they saw what were apparently several bodies lying beside a wagon. Four men had two women tied up and draped over their saddles. They rode off to the west.
Arriving at the wagon, the brothers found the bodies of a man and a woman, and a younger boy. They were shocked to discover that they knew the family well. Knowing them, it was clear who the kidnapped women - actually, girls - were. The only logical motive for them having been taken alive was also clear. It was urgent to catch up with them as quickly as possible. The brothers left the wagon and the bodies as they had found them, and spurred their horses west.
The killers' camp was not far ahead, and the men could be heard talking as the brothers approached on foot. Supper was being cooked. The girls were on the ground, their arms stretched over their heads, and tied to small trees. Their legs were still tied, and they were still gagged. It seemed obvious that they were not going to be given food or water, and that their final ordeal would begin as soon as the men's meal was completed.
What followed was not a gunfight. The brothers walked into the camp, and shot the four men where they were standing. It took only four bullets. The brothers went immediately to the girls, and began to untie them. The brothers wore masks, and one was quick to assure the girls that they had not been "saved" from killers, only to fall into the hands of other desperados.
"Don't worry about our masks, June. You and April are now safe, and we'll get you into town as quickly as we can. I guess you know it, but I have to confirm that all three of your family members are dead. I'm really sorry."
He had removed her gag, and was untying her feet. The other brother did the same for April. "Are you strong enough to sit, or stand, yet?" both were asked. They weren't, so the brothers leaned them against some trees for a few more minutes. The brother who was apparently the youngest retrieved their horses from a nearby thicket, and also rounded up two of the outlaws' horses.
While the girls were recovering strength, the brothers had a brief conversation. The older one began. "It seems like the best plan is to get the girls into town as quietly as possible, then get on our way before we are noticed. I suggest I go ahead with the bodies of their family members, leave the wagon at the edge of town, then go to the sheriff, and tell him what has happened. I assume he will make the best arrangements possible for the girls. I don't think they have any other family in the area.
"Why don't you wait here for a half-hour or so, giving the girls a little more time to recover, then follow me. I'll ask the sheriff to meet you at the edge of town, where you can turn the girls over to him, and reduce the risk of you being seen by anybody else. I'll head back to camp, and meet you there."
The younger brother agreed, and they set about their plan. The older brother made it to town without being seen by anyone, left the wagon, and went directly to the sheriff's office.
"Tim! You're getting a little brave - or foolhardy - coming here in daylight," the sheriff exclaimed.
"I know, but this was a sad necessity." He explained what had occurred. The sheriff was stunned, but immediately set off to meet the younger brother. Tim managed to leave town without attracting undue attention. The exchange of the girls also went quietly.
Around midnight, Tim appeared at the sheriff's home, and was quickly ushered in. He gave the sheriff a much more detailed account of what had occurred. "Mart and I didn't see the actual shooting. We heard it, but the killers were already loading the girls on their horses when we first saw them. Fearing that the girls had another ordeal waiting for them, we rushed after, and killed the men before they could do any more harm."
"I sent my deputies out to the scene. They found four bodies, all shot one time, two of them shot in the back. They said it looked pretty cold-blooded."
"Maybe so, but my only concern was rescuing the girls. There were four armed men, and only two of us. I wasn't about to lose any advantage we might have. It wasn't a duel, or a gunfight. It was a killing - the best chance we had to save the girls."
The sheriff held up his hand in general agreement. "I don't blame you, Tim, or find any fault in how you handled it. All I'm saying is that the whole affair is ready-made to enter the mythology of the rabid Northrup boys. I'm going to almost guarantee it by not letting anyone talk to the girls for a few days - stressing their traumatic state, which of course is true. I'm just going to say that the girls were too scared and upset to register anything about their rescuers except they were big men who wore masks. Sounds like the Northrup boys to me!"
"That's fine. It can't get any worse for Mart and me, and June and April are safe. That's what counts, here.
"I don't suppose anybody knows the men?"
"Well, not many people have seen, or even know about them, yet. They aren't locals, for sure, but beyond that..."
"Are June and April doing okay?"
"As well as can be expected, I imagine. As you know from your own experience, this is not something you get over quickly. The girls aren't very old or experienced, and I wonder if they even know what they barely escaped."
"They may not. Hopefully, it isn't something that will have to be talked about in the future."
***
Tim was coming into town regularly, usually twice a week. The sheriff warned him that he was taking quite a risk of being seen, but Tim couldn't stop himself. One evening, as he was approaching the sheriff's house, he saw June come out her front door, and stand looking into the darkness. Her called to her, softly. She heard, and turned toward him.
"June, I am wearing a mask, but please don't be afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid. I know who you are."
"You know me?"
"Well, I know your voice. I'll never forget that, and how you rescued us. What are you doing here?"
"I come in occasionally to see how you and April are doing. Is it getting any easier?'
She paused a moment. "Not easier, but I think the acceptance is becoming real, and I think that is a good step forward. It's just so sad, and so meaningless!"
"I know. June, I know well-meaning people are always saying things like 'I know how you feel,' when there is no way they can really relate, unless they've had a like experience. Mart and I have gone through a very similar event, so believe me when I say that I have some understanding of what you are going through. You can count on me to help, if you are ever in need."
"Thank you," was all she said immediately. Then: "I've been thinking. You rescued us from a kidnapping, which in itself deserves the strongest of 'thank yous' possible. But I've been wondering, why did they keep us alive? Why didn't they kill us when they murdered the rest of the family? I think maybe I know."
"Nothing else happened, so I don't think we need to talk about it."
"I think maybe we do. I don't know much, even now, about how some men think about women, and what they might do if a woman was helpless before them. When I was very young, I heard my grandmother talking about a woman 'suffering a fate worse than death.' She didn't say any more, and I wouldn't have understood it at that young age, anyway. Well, as I just said, I don't think I understand it, even now. But what I have come to think she meant is that there are things that a man might do to a helpless woman that are so awful that the woman might feel she would rather have died than having to go through it. Is that what was in store for us?"
Tim was reluctant to say anything, but she had asked rather pointedly. Finally, he said, "Let's let it remain an unnamed something, but yes, they had a very unpleasant experience planned for you." He didn't say that she and April would not have only suffered the "worse than death," but almost assuredly the actual death, too.
"Then, our thanks to you is for far more than a kidnapping. Thank you."
Just then, someone lit a lantern in the house behind them. Without another word, Tim disappeared into the darkness before anyone else could see him there. June had much more she wanted to say, and ask.
***
June didn't see her masked savior for almost two weeks, but she had a feeling that he was nearby rather regularly. She didn't understand why he was so attentive. Well, there were a multitude of other questions that went with that one. For instance, who was he? What was his name? He had said once that his brother was Mart. Had he meant to, or was that an unusual slip? Why did they wear masks, and why did they slip in and out of town so secretively? Another one that seemed rather important to her: He had called her and April by their names even before he had untied them, or really looked at them. How did he know that?
Those were all interesting questions taken one at a time but, considered together, she began to have the feeling that there was some bigger issue that tied them all together. She thought she might have confirmation of that when, late one evening, she caught sight of her rescuer leaving the sheriff's house. She decided it was time for answers, went to the sheriff's house, and knocked on the door.
The sheriff answered. "June, what a surprise! I heard you and April were doing a little better, but I didn't know you were out and about. What can I do for you?"
June walked right by the sheriff into his living room, nodded to Molly, the sheriff's wife, and seated herself on the sofa. "Sheriff Jameson, I think it is probably wrong for masked men to be coming and going from your house in the dark of night."
Mrs. Jameson said "oh, dear!" The sheriff was taken by surprise, and didn't say anything for a moment or two. "You saw Tim leave," he finally managed.
"Tim. Is that his name? Tim and Mart. So, Tim and Mart, who?"
The sheriff had gained control of himself. "Why, the Northrup boys, those ruthless bad men."
"Tom, don't tease or confuse the girl," chided Mrs. Jameson.
"No, you're right, Molly. It isn't a joking matter." He turned to June. "I'm sorry. The boys are definitely not ruthless killers, but the newspapers and the U. S. marshal have done a great job, seeming to make it true. That's the reason the boys wear masks, and have to sneak in and out of town. I guess you better know the whole story."
"Yes, please."
"Well, several years ago, we had another disaster, very similar to what happened to your family. A group of men rode up to an isolated ranch, killed everyone there, and burned down the ranch house. There was no reason for it to happen - no motive. It was the first thing like that to ever occur in our area, but I guess it hasn't been that uncommon in the country as a whole. Then, to have something like that happen again...
"Well, I just don't understand it. I'm wondering if it has something to do with the War. After all the killing and the eventual surrender, Southern men have found themselves back in a union they never wanted to be part of, with their livelihood gone (because of freeing the slaves), and with their homes often destroyed or confiscated. I'm just wondering if this is gangs of men who no longer feel they have homes, wandering and getting into trouble. Granted, what we're talking about is very serious trouble, but who knows how these Southerners might explain it?
"I'm getting off my story, which is what you want to hear. The massacre I'm talking about was Tim's and Mart's family. The boys had been gone overnight on a fishing trip, and arrived back to a home still in flames, and the bodies of their family strewn across the yard. I don't know how much thinking the boys did - my god, they were still in their teens! - but they assumed the killers could not be far ahead of them, and they followed after. The men - five of them, altogether - were not expecting anyone to follow, and the boys - both being excellent shots - picked them off, one by one, with only a little bit of return fire. The boys recovered some stolen property, but left the bodies where they had fallen. They returned to the ranch, buried all their kin, and came into town to tell me what had happened.
"The boys were pretty much in shock - well, Tim was probably barely 18 at the time, and Mart younger, so you can imagine - but I asked them why they had gone after the men, themselves. Tim said he assumed the killers were drifters, and would probably never be seen in the area, again - or, at least, there would be no way to tie them to the crime. I couldn't disagree with that logic, but I still felt there might be trouble brewing for them. I suggested they go off into the mountains for a while - obviously, not the thing a sheriff should recommend, but I had a bad feeling. My feeling proved to be right.
"I visited the ranch with the U. S. marshal. Other than the burned-out ranch house, there was very little evidence of what had gone on, because the boys had buried all their family members. It was a different story when we found the bodies of the killers. left where they had fallen, with no evidence of any big gun fight. The marshal pretty much ignored the causes of the killings, and decided that the scene was obviously the result of mad-dog killers. I couldn't dissuade him. He made up 'wanted' posters for the boys, and gave the newspapers a very one-sided story of what he thought had happened. The papers made a lurid story out of it, and pretty much tried the boys right there on the front page. Other papers picked up the tale, each embellishing it their own way, and pretty soon we had a local legend of deranged killers. Every time something bad has happened in the area since, somebody has speculated that this was another crime of the Northrup gang! Soon, there was no way the boys could have gotten a fair trial, and they surely would have gone to prison, or even been hanged. We couldn't think of anything to do but have them hide out in the hills. That's what they've been doing, and I don't know how to change that."
The sheriff paused, like he had finished his story, and June started to ask some questions. However, the sheriff started up again. "The boys didn't see your folks get killed. They arrived on the scene as you and April were being loaded on horses, to be carried away. This triggered some memories with Tim, that probably made his reaction to your kidnapping especially strong."
"What memories?"
The sheriff looked at his wife, and she gestured that he should tell the whole tale. "I hadn't said it before, but when Tim found the bodies of his mother and sister, their clothes were torn and rearranged in a way that wouldn't have occurred if they had just been killed on the spot. He was just a boy, and had no experience or understanding of the things that evil men could do to women. Nevertheless, he felt sure that the women had been kept alive for some time after the others were dead."
"The fate worse than death," June said, mostly to herself.
The sheriff didn't immediately understand what she was saying, but Molly did. "Yes, dear, I'm afraid that is exactly what happened."
The sheriff caught on. "Well, remembering that, Tim would have rushed to the aid of any woman threatened in such a way. When they got down to the wagon, and realized who it was that was kidnapped, the urgency became much more personal. They raced after you as quickly as they could."
"Wait a minute, Sheriff. Let me catch up. Why did it become more personal?"
Tom glanced at his wife, again. "Tell her the rest of the story, Tom."
He did, but it took a little rearranging of his thoughts. "A year or so before the first killings, you probably would have been a little too young to be thinking much about boys. However, one boy was old enough to be thinking about a particular girl who had caught his youthful attention. I don't recall that he really knew her - just somebody he saw in school, or around town - but it was enough to get him thinking about holding hands or dancing or talking and laughing together.. Well, who knows? Nothing might have ever come of it - he or she might have had numbers of youthful fantasies in the years that followed. They never got a chance to find out before all hell broke loose - sorry the strong word - and he was suddenly not a lovesick schoolboy, but a fugitive from justice, living in the hills and wearing a mask to hide his identity. But those olden days came back in a flash when he realized who was in peril."
"Wait a minute. I need to catch up, again. You are taking about Tim being interested in me in high school? But I don't remember him, at all!"
"You were very young, dear," explained Molly, "And nothing had a chance to develop. But he remembered, which was the important thing at that moment."
June was thinking. "Among the first words he said to me were my name and April's. I've wondered how he could have known us. I have my explanation, and quite a surprise!"
"Well, who knows?" the sheriff speculated. "If things had worked out the way they should, you and Tim might be an old married couple by now."
"Tom Jameson!" his wife reacted. "You are absolutely impossible!"
For some reason, June found herself smiling.
***
It was an odd week for June. She had been thinking a lot about what the sheriff had told her, and most of those thoughts were definitely happy ones. On the other hand, the reality of what had happened to her and April was making a resurgence in her mind. It was like she was just waking up to the fact that her family was gone forever, and she and April were alone in the world. The hopelessness of that thought was almost too much to bear. She imagined it was as hard - maybe harder - for her sister. She wondered what she should be doing about it.
One thing that came to mind is that they had barely been out of the house since their rescue. That had probably been the right thing for the first week or so, but now it might just be trapping them with the worst of the memories. Going outside and meeting people would subject them to a lot of inquiries, and to sympathy that June definitely didn't want, but they had to face that all, eventually. She'd better start working more seriously at her and April's recovery.
In the meantime, she needed something happy - or, at least, different - to think about. When she happened to see Tim leaving the sheriff's house one night, she went out to meet him. He certainly hadn't expected her, but he wasn't a bit disappointed.
"June, what are you doing, sneaking around in the dark? he asked. "Particularly when there are men wearing masks wandering around in the same area," he added.
"I don't mind the mask, and it's the voice that I know. Anyway, to answer your question, I happened to see you leave the sheriff's, and I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you have some time?"
"Sure. If I can help in any way, I'll be glad to. Let's get a little farther from the houses, where there's less chance of being seen."
They did find a spot where no lights were visible, and they sat side by side while she told him her concerns about the family memories returning. He took a moment to think about it.
"I told you that Mart and I had an experience similar to yours, but I didn't tell you what it was. Our whole family was senselessly murdered, like yours, and Mart and I suddenly had no one but ourselves. As you know, it's a very strange sensation, and you can't really take it in - can't believe something so extreme, and so completely unreversible, could really have happened. You walk around in a sort of cloud for a time - not completely believing it has happened. That gets better over time - if 'better' is a word that can be used in this situation! - but you don't just 'get over it,' and move on with life. After several years, Mart and I are over the real grieving stages, but even now we have hopeless periods, when it all comes back pretty hard.
"I think you'll find the same thing, and I think you're right that the best way to start handling it is for you and April to kind of reintroduce yourself to the world, and do as many 'normal' things as possible. I'll be around, any time you need somebody to talk to."
"Thank you, and thanks for telling me more of your story. I think it will help. Now, if you still have time, I'd like to tell you about one thing I've been doing lately, to sort of combat the grief."
"Sure. What have you been doing?"
"Well, I've been trying to find happy memories from before... Well, when I was just a girl growing up in a family. One thought I had was about when I first started to notice boys."
"Really? What do you remember about that?"
It was too dark to see much, but Tim was pretty sure she was looking at him. "You know, we start out as just kids, mixed groups of boys and girls who all pretty much did the same things, and probably pretty much thought the same kinds of things. Then, one day - it's probably usually in our 'teens - we look at some boy, and we see something different. We might have known him all our lives, but suddenly he's different - almost a new species. We don't want to play tag with him, anymore. We want to talk to him away from the crowd, hold hands, maybe go to a dance together. We never could imagine our feelings could change like that."
"And that happened to you?"
"Oh, several times. I'd like a boy, and he would like me, and we'd be kind of a couple for a little while. Then, he'd find a new girl, and I'd find a new boy, and we'd start all over again. It was fun, and always a new exploration, but nobody ever seemed to think your time as a couple would last very long, and it didn't. I don't think anybody was sad about it - I know I wasn't - but that's what I wanted to talk about, and ask somebody about. So, here goes.
"I have heard women say that their attraction to one of the first boys they ever saw - as a boy, not just a kid - was so great that they eventually ended up happily married to him - or, sometimes, wishing they'd married him. I liked all the boys I knew well - for different reasons - but none of them came close to sending me head over heels. I don't know if I'm different, or if it isn't that common in women, either. What I want to know is, do boys get affected that strongly?"
From the change in his voice, June was pretty sure he was smiling. "Oh, yes, boys can be very vulnerable. As you said, it's been boys and girls together all your young lives. Then, suddenly, you see a girl, and you just can't stop thinking about her."
"Did that happen to you?"
"It sure did. Once I saw her - really noticed her for the first time - I couldn't get her out of my head. She was always there."
"Was she pretty?"
"Sure, but that wasn't what had attracted me. It was the whole image - the way she walked, the way she talked, the gestures she made when she was talking - well, the whole package. She could have been as plain as a fence post, but I know I would have felt the same."
"But she really was pretty?"
"Oh, definitely. She was as pretty as high school pretty can get. I wish I had seen her grow up, and change into an adult woman. I know she would have become as beautiful as you are."
Well, that stumped June for a moment, but she had one other topic to cover. "So, you really did have a kind of 'love at first sight' attraction. If you saw her now, after not seeing her for several years, do you think your feelings would be the same? Do you think you could get back together?"
There was silence in the darkness for a few moments. "That's kind of an impossible question to answer. In the first place, we were never 'together.' All of my infatuation, or puppy love, or whatever it was, was still all in my head and my heart, when Mart and I had to leave. She knew me as somebody in classes with her, or to chat with in town, but she never knew I had feelings for her, and she never had any feelings for me. If we met now, and if she developed any feelings for me, she would be starting from scratch. With the years that have passed, with her growing from a girl to a woman, and with many men and many opportunities along the way, it doesn't seem very likely that she would be attracted to me, does it?
"However, I didn't answer your question. If I was to meet her today, even with absolutely no chance of anything coming of it, I'm very confident that my feelings would be the same. I don't know if you'd attribute that to love or brain fever, but there it is!"
***
"Mart and I have been working on a plan to get him free from the Northrup curse. Mart has mixed feelings. We both think the plan will work, but he doesn't like that it still leaves me as a wanted man, all by myself. Well, I don't like that, either, but I really want to get Mart back to a normal life, and I just don't see any option for me, at the moment."
"Okay, what is this plan you've come up with?" asked the sheriff.
"Part of the reason that I think it will work is that Mart looked a lot younger than me when the trouble began. He's not that much younger, but it was at that period when just a year or so makes a difference as to whether you look like a boy or a man. Nobody knows what Mart looks like as a man. I'm pretty sure he could walk into town right now, and no one would give him a second thought.
"So, with actual recognition not much of a problem, we propose that Mart gets killed - well, just in the newspapers - when he and I rob a bank in Mexico, after which the federales catch up with us, shoot him, and - maybe - wound me as I escape."
"Whoa, wait a minute! I take it that you're talking about a false news story, alleging Mart's death in Mexico?"
"That's what we're talking about. We'd make it seem really 'factual' - lots of details - but without the specifics that you'd need to check how authentic the piece was. If we made sure that half a dozen papers got the story, some of them would be a lot more interested in being the first to break sensational news than on checking the facts. After the story had been circulated a month or so - and almost certainly added to, imaginatively - Mart could appear here in town with a changed name, and settle down to his interrupted life."
The sheriff thought about it." And you really think this would work?"
"Definitely. There are so many stories about our alleged evil deeds that the papers could keep this going for months, while Mart settles down and the press speculates about whether or not I am dead in the Mexican desert."
"So, the only problem is what happens to you?"
"Well, nothing happens to me. It just means that Mart is a free man, and I'm still figuring out how I can eventually join those ranks. I'll just stay up in the hills on my own. It won't be as much fun by myself, but I'm used to that kind of living, and I'd do anything to get Mart out of all this."
"Okay, let me summarize this for myself. One, you're both wanted men, and there's no way that's going to change while you're alive. Two, the story is old, everybody's heard it, but nobody's really looking for you, anymore. You're probably safe, but you can never be completely sure."
"Let me correct that point, Tom. The story was old and near dead, but the murder of June's parents make it fresh news again."
"Yeah, that had slipped my mind. So, point two, people could be interested in looking for you, again. Three, none of the stories I've heard make you bank robbers, but you're desperados - you could be up to anything, illegal - and being in Mexico might be because the recent killings have made it too hot for you, locally. Four, the papers are always ready for a new sensation, which you might be able to create with lots of detail, but nothing that could really be traced. Five, the federales probably wouldn't waste their time bringing in an outlaw's corpse. They'd just leave poor Mart in the desert. Yeah, I think it would be worth a try."
"Good, Tom, and point six - as I already noted - if the story hints that I might have been seriously wounded, it might shift interest in me to Mexico, and raise more speculation about whether I was alive or dead. Okay, Mart and I will work on the news story."
***
SPECIAL! EXCLUSIVE!
NOTORIOUS AMERICAN BADMAN SHOT DEAD IN MEXICO!
The younger of the notorious Northrup brothers is confirmed dead after a shootout with Mexican federales. The brothers had robbed a bank, and were just escaping when the Mexican troops appeared unexpectedly. The brothers were chased for a long way across a trackless desert, until they were cornered in a rocky canyon. Many shots were exchanged, and the young man eventually fell in a hail of Mexican bullets. Another man, presumably the older Northrup brother, was believed wounded in the fight, but escaped back into a rugged mountain area, and could not be traced.
The identity of the dead man was confirmed by the captain of the federales. "Obviously, he looked a little older than on his 'wanted' poster, but it was clearly the same man. Also, some of his belongings offered further proof of who he was."
The troop had come on the scene while on a longer patrol. As they did not intend to return to their headquarters for several more weeks, they left the body where it fell, to be consumed by coyotes and scavenger birds - clearly a suitable ending for such a villain. As already noted, the location and condition of the other robber was not determined.
You may recall that the Northrups mercilessly killed nine men in two different incidents. It has been speculated that a number of other crimes in the past several years were also the work of the Northrups. People can rest easier that at least one of the killers is no longer a menace. Perhaps the other is also gone, forever, but we should not take that possibility too seriously, yet.
***
Tim and Mart spent a lot of time distributing the "news story" in ways they thought would arouse the least suspicions about its authenticity. It turned out not to be necessary. The papers clamored to be the first to tell the story, and attempts to gather additional information were negligible. The Northrup name was the subject of new ill-repute, but that seemed to the boys a small price to pay.
One thing that had to be considered before the story broke was that June knew who Tim and Mart were. (April didn't.) She would have been devastated if she thought anything had happened to them. The sheriff had to alert her to the truth. When the story did break, she found that she was remarkably happy for several reasons, although she couldn't have explained some of the reasons in words. She hadn't ever told Tim that she knew who he was, but the next time she saw him she couldn't help blurting out all she knew. However, halfway through her presentation, she found it was interrupted by a rather amazing kiss, delivered by a masked man. She found that she didn't mind being interrupted.
A few weeks after the story had died down, a young man rode into town. The sheriff introduced him as Alan Sperry, a nephew from New York, and "Alan" soon found a job working in the local mercantile. He became a favorite of the people in town, always friendly, polite, and helpful - also, in the words of some young women, remarkably handsome.
***
June and April both seemed to be over their initial trauma, and they took to strolling around the town, visiting with old acquaintances, and new ones. Some people wanted to be too sympathetic, and some wanted to ask too many questions, but the girls were able to take it all in stride. In the evening, they often visited with Molly and the sheriff, and Tom's "nephew" often joined them. There was a lot of laughing and story-telling - just the right ingredients to ward off any later nightmares. June would have loved to have another brother join them, but that wasn't possible yet... Did she say "yet?" That implied that there would come a time....
Something did come up that involved Tim, at least indirectly. A young man appeared in the sheriff's office, inquiring if the sheriff knew where Tim could be found. That made Tom smile.
"Being the sheriff, you might think that - if I knew where he was - I'd be out catching him, or shooting him. Unfortunately, he never reports in, so I don't have any ideas. It's been a long time since I heard any rumors around here. There was that story that he might have been killed down in Mexico. What made you think he might be around here?"
"This was his home country, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was, but that was a number of years ago. He doesn't have any personal connections around here, anymore. Can you tell me why you're looking for him?"
"He murdered two of my brothers, and was never punished for it. I aim to do that."
The sheriff took a good look at the man. He probably wasn't any older than Mart, and certainly didn't have the look of a gunfighter - or, of anybody who used a gun regularly. "You know, there are dozens of stories told about the Northrups that actually had nothing to do with them. Are you sure your information is correct?"
"Yes, I am. They shot four men in cold blood. Two of them were my brothers, and one of them was shot in the back."
"You're right that the Northrups shot them, but only after your brothers and the other two had murdered a man, his wife, and their son, before carrying off two daughters who they intended to inflict shameful indignities on before they killed them, also."
"That's a lie! My brothers were not that kind of men."
"Obviously, you didn't know your brothers very well. Anyway, I don't think you'll find any Northrups around here. If you do find him - here or anywhere else - you might remember that he has shot a lot of men. Are you able to stand up to a gunfighter, or would you just be committing suicide?"
***
The sheriff told Tim the story that evening. "At least, you're being blamed for something you really did. Of course, he doesn't believe - or doesn't want to believe - the cause. I told him, but he's sure his brothers couldn't have been that bad. Well, you're safe from him, anyway."
Tim had been thinking as Tom talked. "Hold up a minute. Let's not dismiss this too hastily. You say he's not a gunfighter?"
"Definitely not. He's just a kid - well, not a kid, but maybe Mart's age - and I have a feeling he hasn't handled a gun very much. I'd bet anything that he hasn't ever shot at a man."
"You think he's still in town?"
"It was this afternoon I talked to him, so he hasn't had a chance to get very far, yet. I don't know what he plans to do. I didn't give him any encouragement to stay around here, looking for you."
Tim was obviously considering something. "What if I heard he was looking for me, agreed to shoot it out with him, and he killed me?"
"Killed you?"
"Well, 'killed' in the same sense that Mart was killed. I'm still working out the details, but I'm thinking something like this. You hear about the agreement, and go along with it, but say that it can't occur in town. You don't want it to become a spectacle. We meet in an isolated canyon somewhere - maybe just him, you, me, and Doc Jameson, if he'll agree = We shoot at each other, he hits me, I fall down, and Doc pronounces me dead. You get the kid out of town as quickly as possible, and the saga of the Northrup brothers comes to an end."
The sheriff made a little whistling noise. "Well, I agree that would end all threats from the Northrups, and your long-term problems would all go away. However, I thought there were a few shorter term situations that you wanted to be around for."
"Remember, we're not talking about me being killed. From what you said, there's very little chance that I can't get out of the way of any shot he takes. I guess I could be winged if he got lucky, but it wouldn't be anything that Doc couldn't take care of.
You're right that I have a lot I want to live for, and you're right that this could go badly. But Tom, I don't think I'm going to get many chances to join Mart in some kind of normal life. I don't think I can afford to pass up any opportunity."
The sheriff thought it over. "I don't like it, Tim. It seems like a lot could go wrong. Still, I agree it may be the best chance you have, so let's plan it out. We've got to keep it as secret as possible. Molly will know, and we'll tell Mart. I'm changing my mind about Doc, though. I'm in kind of a weird position - a lawman abetting a duel! That could get me in some future trouble, but Doc would actually be falsifying a legal record."
"I agree, the Doc is out. How about Mart as our witness. He'll already know what's planned, and that will keep the number of people who know down to a minimum."
Tom paused. "Okay, Mart is our witness. Now, you've got to warn June."
"Yeah, I know that. I think I know how to give her enough warning that she'll know we're up to something, but not enough to reveal the plot. I'll have to work on that."
"So, I guess our next step is to find your 'killer,' and get word to him that the duel is on."
***
The young man was still in town, and Tim managed to get a note to him, saying he would meet, and directing the man to work out the details with the sheriff.
"This is a damn fool situation, a sheriff presiding over a duel - a shoot-out. I'll do it to protect my town, but only if both of you agree to my terms. Northrup has already agreed, so it's up to you. If you don't want to agree, and want to continue hunting him on your own, that's fine, but you're not going to do it in my town. Now, here are the rules .
"First, this isn't going to happen in town. I won't let this become a circus, where everybody comes out to see the action. It will be held in a remote canyon, with only you, me, Northrup, and a witness. Well, if you want one other person with you, that's fine, but no advance publicity by anybody.
"Second, it will be one draw, only - no second shots. If you kill him, you've shot a criminal in a fair fight, so I won't consider any laws broken. If you only wound him, that's the end of your part. I'll take him into custody for his other crimes, and the Law will serve up whatever justice is to be had. If he kills you, or just wounds you, I won't figure he's broken any laws, but I'll certainly try to arrest him for his other misdeeds.
"Finally, just like you can't tell anyone ahead of time what's planned, when it's over, you can't talk about it in town. You can go direct to the newspaper office, and tell the whole story any way you want. After that, I don't want to see you back in town. Now that you will have killed a well-known desperado, there are going to be other gunmen looking for you, to see if they're a faster draw than you are. I won't have those kinds of people coming into town, looking for you."
The young man was not happy with all the restrictions, but he was smart enough to see that he'd never find Tim on his own. He agreed to meet the sheriff and the witness at the edge of town the next morning, and the sheriff would lead them to the shoot-out location.
***
That evening, Tim penned a short note to June, that he had delivered anonymously the next morning. It read: "June, you will be hearing some news that will upset you, and make you sad. Don't believe it. Instead, remember the story of Mart and Alan. Also, I make a solemn promise that, before long, I will be proposing marriage to a woman that I began to love in high school."
June rushed over to the sheriff's office, but no one was there.
***
The next morning began as planned. The four men gathered in a canyon some distance from town. The sun was high enough that there was no glare and no shadows that would help or hinder either shooter. The sheriff declared that the men would begin with their guns drawn, as drawing from a holster would probably favor the outlaw. He let them select their own distance from which to shoot.
Everything was over in minutes. Both men fired at the same time, Tim gave one cry and crumpled to the ground. Alan checked for breathing or pulse (none), and examined the apparent bullet hole in Tim's chest.
"He's dead, all right," declared Alan, "But I'm a little confused. I was sure the shot went wide of its mark. It must have ricocheted off something, and spun back. Pretty strange!"
"You want to see your kill up closer?" the sheriff asked the young man. He had seen enough. "Well, let's get back into town, and get this finished up. Alan, I'd like you to stay by the body until I return with some transport."
As they walked back out of the canyon, the sheriff reminded the man of the agreement. 'You can go to the newspaper office, and tell them as much as you want to tell them. Say I'll be in after a bit to confirm the death, and confirm that it was a fair fight. Then, I want you out of my town just as quickly as possible."
The sheriff didn't go back to the canyon, figuring the brothers would be long gone by then (and both still alive). Instead, he waited until he saw the young man leave the newspaper office, and ride toward the edge of town. Then, he went over to tell his side of the story.
"That kid looked pretty unlikely to have taken down the last of the bad me. You sure that was really Tim Northrup?" the news editor asked.
"No question in my mind," the sheriff replied. "I've known the boys all their lives. It's been a few years since, and he was older and quite a bit heavier than I remembered him, but it was him, all right. I had my doubts about Tim being the loser, but we got there just before they shot, and we saw the whole thing."
"Wait. You 'just got there?' It was my impression that you set up the whole thing."
Tom laughed. "That would be a little odd, wouldn't it - having the sheriff plan a gun fight? No, I got wind of it happening, and I told the lad I wouldn't allow it in town. I didn't want an Old West type sideshow, where everybody came and watched a murder, so I suggested a spot up a canyon. I also told him I wouldn't consider it a fair fight unless they both started with guns drawn. I figured a quick draw would give Tim quite an edge. Other than that, my plan was to take advantage of the situation. If the boy won, I'd have one less outlaw on my hands. If he lost - which I certainly thought was going to happen - at least Tim was out of hiding, and I might be able to arrest him. This was a better outcome for me because I had my doubts that I could take Tim by myself.
"So, what happened was that Alan - my nephew - and I followed up the canyon, and got there just as they were about to fire. I don't know where Tim's shot went, but he immediately cried out and fell over. Alan went to examine him, and there was a bullet hole in his chest, and there was no pulse or no breathing. One thing that was a little odd was that Alan - who had a better vantage point than I did - really thought that the young man's shot had gone wide. Apparently, it hit the wall and ricocheted to hit Tim. If that's what happened, the result was the same, but it kind of reinforced my idea that the kid wouldn't have outshot Tim."
"Interesting. So, where's the body?"
"Buried up in the canyon. I know I denied you an exciting front page photo, but I just couldn't bring Tim's body to be ogled by every thrill-seeking townsperson. Northrup was once an honorable name around here. I just figured it was time to end this whole thing."
***
Later, the sheriff met with Tim and Mart at their hideout. "I think it's all gone well. The editor accepted the story, as the young man told it, and as I 'corrected' it, somewhat. He wasn't happy that I buried you in the canyon, and deprived him of a gory front page photo, but he'll get over it. I hope you don't mind, Tim, but I made you a bit heavier than you really are - not roly-poly, but I did take away your manly physique. I thought it might help when you ride back into town with your new identity."
"Well, I guess I can live - or die - with my physique somewhat besmirched. Thanks for thinking of that. Right now, I guess I don't really know how I feel. It's hard to believe this is all really over."
"I think it is," Tom replied. "So, now that you're dead, what do you intend to do with your life?"
"The one idea was to reclaim our homestead for Mart and me. I'd love to fix it back up, and live and work out there as I always planned."
"Well, it's your property. There are two big problems, of course. If you're alive, you're still outlaws. If you're dead, well... That sort of speaks for itself."
"I guess that does pose some problems. Well, what happens to the property if we can't claim it? There are no other heirs."
"I'd have to look into that a bit, but as there are no living - well, no admitted living - heirs, I suspect the county will take it over, then maybe sell it for payment of back taxes."
"We could certainly do that. We've got quite a bit of our family money left, that we recovered from the killers."
"That's good. However, if there was competition for the property, there might be other stipulations, like making certain improvements, building a new house, living on the land... Well, I'm just speculating. Let me look into it some more."
"Thanks, sheriff. You didn't list anything there that wouldn't be doable, so that's what I'll plan on, for now at least. Now, about the near future. You think Mart's safe - he's passed all the tests?"
"Yeah, he's good. I wish I had a real nephew as good as him."
"Thanks, Uncle," Mart/Alan replied.
"Okay. You think the story of my demise will be accepted as readily? If so, what I plan to do is stay here a couple weeks, and grow a good full beard. That, accompanied by my slim, youthful build (rather than the fat slob that Tim had become) should stave off any comparisons with me and the Northrups. When I first ride into town, there shouldn't be any question about me being a newcomer."
"A certain woman is going to be pretty impatient, and will probably make my and Mart's situation pretty awful, until you show up."
"Sorry about that, but she won't be the only impatient one."
***
Even though she knew what was going to be reported in the newspaper, June felt her heart sink when she read the account of Tim's "death." She immediately started for the sheriff's office, newspaper in her hand. The sheriff saw her coming.
"He's all right, June. Alive, with not a scratch on him."
"I know that. I'm very, very glad it's all working according to plan, and he'll soon be a really free man. But I need to see him now - today!"
"I wish it was possible, June, but we've got to let this play out. The Tim story needs to have run its course, so that no one associates him with the tall, handsome stranger that will soon appear in our town."
June was quiet for a moment. "Tall and handsome, huh? Well, maybe I can wait a few days for that. But, Tom, that doesn't mean I'm not going to make your and Mart's lives miserable until you can give me some good, solid information on when I will see him."
"Yes, June, we had anticipated that."
***
It was several weeks after the shooting had been reported. June was on her way to visit with Molly when a bearded man, walking with his horse, caught up with her. "Good morning, miss. Lovely day, isn't it?"
June turned to smile at him, as he went on talking. "It seems like the kind or morning that might be a portent of big things to come, even miracles."
She stopped, and observed him more closely. "It does seem like that. By the way, I like your voice."
"Thanks. It's just my usual one."
"I know." She paused. "Could I get you to do one little thing for me? It will only take a moment."
"Sure, if I can."
June pulled a sheet of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to the bearded man. "In your usual voice, would you just read the very last line to me?"
The man looked at the paper, smiled, and read: "Also, I make a solemn promise that, before long, I will be proposing marriage to a woman that I began to love in high school."
He handed the paper back to her, and she put it back in her pocket. "Thank you," she said. "A few weeks ago, a masked man wrote that to me..."
"A masked man?" he interrupted.
"Yes, but that isn't the relevant point, here. When I read this, I was convinced that he was completely sincere with what he had written, and that I could depend on it coming true. Now, several weeks later, do you think I am right to still be believing it true?"
"Are you the woman in question?"
"I certainly am."
"Then, I think there is absolutely no question that you can believe what was written."
"Thank you. That makes me very happy. Now, to the next order of business. Do you think it would be appropriate for me to put my arms around your next, in order to share a kiss that we will both remember fondly for days to come?"
"I think it's a very nice idea, but I think it might attract attention that we don't want attracted for a few weeks. However, I have an alternate suggestion. There is a house right in back of us. If we knocked on that door, and asked the person who answered if we could use a few square feet of their floor space for a few minutes, I think we could accomplish the same outcome."
"Well, what are we waiting for? Wait! What's your name?"
"Jim Goodwell."
"Goodwell. I guess I can live with that. Let's hurry!"
They knocked on the door, Molly answered, and June brushed right past her, pulling the bearded man along with her. "Sorry to be so abrupt, Molly, but this is an emergency."
They stopped just inside the living room, and June put her arms around the neck of the bearded man. He responded by putting his arms around her waist, and pulling her to him. What followed was a kiss that might not be actually felt for several days, but would certainly be remembered long after that. The one observer thought it was a masterful blend of tenderness and passion.
"My stars!: she exclaimed. "That is the kind of kiss that could only be shared by two people who were extremely fond of one another."
June turned her head toward her. "You're not kidding!" She turned back, as if to start another kiss, but paused. "I'm not fond of the beard, Tim."
"I'm not either, but we thought it was a good disguise until people got used to seeing me around. I will gradually get rid of all the facial hair until it is only the real me that you will see."
"Good," she said, as she resumed the kiss.
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