Scene from The Devil's Brand

November 1875



King's Hill, Colorado





The wind blew hard through the small canyon. It was unforgiving, and never seemed to let up. The rider's cheeks were red from the wind's bite. The winter's cold was beginning, and his thick drooping mustache had frost forming on the ends. His teeth chattered. It was brutally cold. He tugged at his coat, bringing it higher up on his neck. He felt his rib cage, and pulling his hand to his face he could see it on his fingers even in the soft moonlight. He could smell it. He was losing blood.



Leaning against the pinion tree for a few minutes, the rider looked down from the hill he was standing upon. He couldn't see any signs of his pursuers in the distance. He hoped he had finally lost them. The night was quiet, except for the wind. Its howling, like a woman moaning, was eerily familiar. It reminded him of his dying wife, which in turn fueled his anger, and willed him to push on. He knew where he was, there was a small mining town nearby, and he only hoped he could make it before he lost too much blood.



The rider once again mounted his palomino stud. Adjusting himself in the saddle, he reached into his saddlebag. Taking out the bottle he took another pull. The whiskey warmed him as the cold bit into his cheeks once again. He took out a piece of dried beef chewing on it slowly, trying to get some nourishment to continue. With a mild nudge, he spurred his mount. The stud continued on the trail they had used to reach this vantage point. Carefully they made there way up the canyon wall, a series of switch backs provided the opportunity to once again check for anyone following him.

The rider was feeling light headed. Stopping his mount, he once again checked the wound on his side. The blood had begun to congeal, the flowing somewhat halted. Still he had to push on. Reaching the ridge of the canyon, he now looked across wandering plain and off in the distance he could see the light of a fire. Still miles away, the wind carried faint sounds of music. The town was still alive, he just might make it.



With every step of his mount, the rider felt more encouraged. His anger was subsiding. He leaned forward in his saddle, closing his eyes for only a moment. He came to with a start as the mount stepped hard over a fallen limb on the trail. Drifting in and out of consciousness now he held the reins tight. He felt his body drift backwards. Without control, his head fell back sending his view skyward. The night was dark, but clear. The stars patterned the sky like millions of candles burning above him. His mount snorted. Froth blowing from his nostrils. The palomino was tired. They had only stopped once in the last eight hours. The horse's exhaling breath lifted into the night in a cloud of mist. The sound of the horse struggling brought the rider again into the present. He was fading, and he knew it. Was this the end, he thought? Would I finally see Abigail again he wondered aloud, although no one was there to hear him? The rider looked into the starry sky, waiting for the hands of angels to come for him, to carry him to a better place. Suddenly the world spun, North was South, East was West and up was down. The rider spilled from his mount. His large frame making a thud for no one to hear as it hit the ground. The fall knocked his hat off revealing a shaven head. Reaching with his hand he grabbed his hat. The Palomino had stopped, almost knowing it was time. The rider lay on the ground completely spent. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he brought himself to a sitting position. He grabbed hold of the stirrup, and after several excruciating minutes he was leaning against the horse. He put his foot in the stirrup. The Palomino well trained, knelt down, and the rider managed to make his way to the saddle. Rising, the Palomino waited for his rider to settle. Grabbing the reins he tied them to his arms, he twisted his feet in the stirrups. This was his only attempt at remaining atop the horse. Finally he leaned forward and rested his head on the powerful mount's neck, holding tight. “Get us there Samson” he whispered to the powerful Palomino.



The last thing his mind registered was the memory of a clear desert morning, and the sight of a man he hated more than any other running away from him, escaping. The man's left arm had been nearly blown to pieces. The man scrambled atop his horse, and with his good arm grabbed the boy.



“Leave the boy!” commanded Harland Poe standing over his friend, and addressing the fleeing man.

The boy was putting up a fight, but it wasn't accomplishing much. Harland drew his pistol, but the boy was blocking his aim. Harland looked down at his friend whose face was bleeding severely, and at that moment Harland Poe made his decision, and dropped his pistol. The man and the boy rode hard out of town. Harland screamed for their tracker. The Indian seeing the bleeding man understood instinctivly and stood watch while Harland ran for a doctor.



As the rider finally succombed to the bleeding wound, and pure exhaustion overtook him, his eyes closed, and darkness surrounded him.









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Frank Cutler was hedging his bets. The twenty-four year old bartender was wiping down the counter with an old rag. A couple of Wilbur Katy's boys were in the back playing poker, one of them was Katy's brother Martin. He was losing. He was always losing it seemed, and Cutler was sure this time the fight was going to tear his bar apart. The place had been around for years as a hotel. Frank had bought the place six months ago when the owner died. He hadn't had to fix it up to much, but he did take some of the polish off the downstairs. The Regal as it had been before was a very fine place to stay, the plush lobby now was the saloon proper, the rooms upstairs however still held there appeal. Now renamed The Lucky Lady it was all his, and hopefully would be around for years to come, but tonight Cutler had a feeling things were going to be rough.



From above the bar, Cutler heard a door close. He looked to the stairs to see the Englishman coming downstairs with Molly. Both had smiles on their faces. If he was paying her as much as he had been paying for whiskey, it was no wonder why Molly was smiling so much. The Englishman had got into town four days ago. Everyone but the gamblers were making a profit, his name was Oliver Kingston Dukes. Molly went to the piano Dukes strode up to the bar.

“Who’s that playing in the back Frank? It looks like a new crowd.” asked Dukes.

“Oh they’re not a new crowd, Mr. Dukes. They come every weekend. You’ve just missed them,” the bartender said as he poured the man a drink.

Dukes took the whiskey and slammed it back. “Well who do we have?” he asked again.

“Most of them are Wilbur Katy's boys. The small skinny one there, that's Wilbur's brother, Martin. He's a shifty son of a bitch. Always starting trouble but letting someone else finish it. The big man next to him with the eye patch, that's Luther Roderick. He is Martin's right hand man and the one who usually gets him out of trouble. The woman is Annie Morgan, she's one of the working girls here, but she is a pretty darn good card player, so the men let her in. The other two men are miners, Albert Hayes and Paul Tuttle. All of them except the woman have been out at the mine working all week, being Saturday they all come to town.” Frank explained.

Oliver Dukes continued to scan the crowd “Who is Wilbur Katy?” he asked

“You don't know of Wilbur Katy!” the bartender looked surprised.

“Now Mr. Cutler would I have asked you, if I did?” Dukes replied sarcastically.

Frank Cutler flushed, he clearly was enamored like everyone else of the Englishman, and realized he must have sounded foolish. He drank a shot of whiskey himself then explained. “Wilbur Katy pretty much owns the whole southeastern corner of Colorado. He runs cattle, he runs horses, he runs everything. What Mr. Katy says goes. Hell he even owns the silver mine here in town. Dang near every sign in town has his name on it. Nothing much happens in these parts with out the OK of Wilbur Katy.”

“Interesting, very interesting,” replied Dukes. “May be a good way to finish making my bank roll, I've got to get to New Orleans somehow”. He smiled and placed a few dollars on the bar.

Taking the bottle of whiskey, he looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar. His brown curly hair was combed perfectly. He smoothed out his sliver of a mustache. Licking his fingers he smoothed out his large sideburns. His clothes were neatly pressed. He pulled on the cuffs of his silk shirt to get comfortable. The green eyes looked right back at him. Winking at the bartender he said “First impressions, Mr. Cutler it’s all about first impressions.” and then he walked to the poker table in the back.

Cutler watched the man walk away. He turned to the mirror, and looked at his own plain features. His plain brown hair, his medium build. The man had charisma, no doubt about that. His thoughts turned envious, Cutler was easy to miss, nothing about him stood out, in most respects he was average in just about every way. Yes sir Cutler thought to himself as he went back to wiping off the bar, “tonight was going to be interesting”.

Oliver Kingston Dukes walked across the saloon. Stopping by the piano player, he handed him a coin, and then winked at Molly who was also setting on the bench. Her face lit up again. The piano player a drunken half breed began playing a melody that sounded strangely like a song he had heard Molly singing earlier. Dukes looked over at the game in progress. The woman Annie Morgan smiled at him. “Bingo” he thought to himself, that was his opening.

He walked to the table and approached the side where the woman sat. The other's looked at him as he came over. The giant one Luther Roderick stood exposing his menacing frame. “You need something?” he asked.

Oliver stood his ground. Impressing the smaller man, and annoying the larger one.

“I haven't seen you around before”, asked the one who Cutler had said was Martin Katy.

“And clearly you wouldn't have, I just arrived a few days ago. I have not had the pleasure of making my way through town as of yet. I have been partaking in the pleasures of this establishment.” He smiled at Annie Morgan.

“Well I'd be a bit careful prancing around this town in those fancy duds mister; folks might take you for some kind of dandy. The men might get a little.......... feisty” Martin Katy said. The rest of the table burst into laughter.

Dukes seemed unflustered by the remark. “I was just circling the room looking for conversation, gentlemen, I didn't mean to cause a disturbance.” He pulled out a very expensive gold watch and looked at the time. “Sorry to have disturbed your game, I should be going.” He turned to walk away, dipping his head to Annie Morgan.

Martin Katy had seen the watch, “You play cards mister?” he asked.

“I'm afraid I'm not much good at poker”, Dukes replied. “I'm more of a pinochle man myself.”

The two miners and Luther Roderick laughed. Martin continued staring at the newcomer.

“I don’t know how much I’ll be able to help your game, but I suppose there is no time like the present to practice. “ Dukes said nervously.

Annie Morgan slid over to make room for the Englishman, smiling again as she did so. Dukes took a seat between the woman and the miner Paul Tuttle. The woman smelled of lavender and lilacs. The man smelled like the hind end of a hog.

“Deal him in Tuttle” said Katy, and the game began.



Dukes was bored to death, he had folded on several winning hands, gave away some terrible tells, faked some bluffs, and played some dreadful cards. Once he even cuffed a card, just to see what he could get away with. No one had noticed. After two hours he was down a hundred bucks and was now feigning bankruptcy, it was all part of the act. He had purposely fed a few hands to the two miners. The poor souls looked like they could use the money. Luther Roderick come to find out wasn't even playing he was there just as an observer, protecting Martin’s interests. The woman was holding her own, but tonight was Martin Katy's night, and he was letting everyone know.

“Boom” he yelled “there's another!”. The man threw down his hand revealing two kings and two sixes. All Dukes had in his hand were two queens, he had discarded the other queen and a pair of twos.

“Good Lord Mr. Katy, you are one hell of a player.” Dukes said

“I've been known to win my share around here, I will say tonight has been especially kind.” He smiled at the woman, and winked at here, “who knows how the rest of the night will go.” Annie Morgan rolled her eyes but didn't say anything, she was well aware of Martin Katy.

Dukes again pulled out his watch, looking at it he said “Well gentlemen, my lady, it's been enjoyable, but it is late, and I am bankrupted for the night, if you will excuse me I plan on getting a meal and retiring for the evening, hopefully with some rather attractive company.” Annie's face flushed to bright red. Katy looked angered at both of them.

“Wait a second Dukes” Katy responded I've been seeing you eye that timepiece all night, and I must say that is one of the finest watches I think I have ever seen, wouldn't mind having one of those myself.”

“This old thing?” Dukes questioned, “I couldn't. This watch has been passed down for four generations, why I've been told that the Prince himself gave this to my great grandfather for services rendered in 1812”.

“A Prince? And just what Prince would that be?” asked Katy.

“Why the Prince of Wales of course, surely you've heard of his majesty” said Dukes

“Yeah, yeah I've heard of him all right” said Katy even though it was clear he hadn't.

“I tell you what Mr. Dukes” said Katy, the sarcasm clearly gone now. “Seeing how you’re bankrupt, and still have a ways to go before….where did you say New Orleans?” Dukes nodded, “I’m feeling generous, and I believe I am going to help you out. I will give you the purse you lost tonight back plus, another fifty dollars for that watch.”

Dukes looked surprised, “Surely Mr. Katy you jest, this is just an old watch, albeit sentimentally valuable, I'm not sure of its monetary value. But clearly it is not worth one hundred and fifty dollars.”

Katy looked annoyed momentarily. “I understand the sentiment Mr. Dukes, but I want that watch. Look at your position. You are broke and still quite far from your destination, it only makes sense. Hell I tell you what I'll even cover your room, and meals here while you’re staying, order what you like to eat, hell grab another girl, now Mr. Dukes lets have it.”

Dukes took in the situation. It seemed everyone at the table was staring at him. Even Frank Cutler at the bar was staring at him. Everyone was waiting for an answer. Luther Roderick glared at him with his one good eye. The tension seemed thick at the moment. Clearly Martin Katy was accustomed to getting what he wanted at any cost. If he didn't accept he had the feeling he would lose the watch anyways.

Suddenly Dukes gave off the perception of being relieved. “Mr. Katy you drive a hard bargain.” He took the watch from his coat pocket. He looked quite upset. “This has been in my family quite a long time. It pains me to believe it has come to this, but you are correct I have gotten myself in quite a predicament. I have no other choice but to accept your offer, if I have any hope of continuing on to New Orleans. As you can see I don't think I'll be earning my way there via the card table.”

The two miners laughed at the remark.

“Please take good care of it sir.” asked Dukes as he handed over the watch. “Perhaps there may come a day, if I should travel through these parts, that ...that....I would like to buy it back….with interest of course.”

Martin Katy was smiling from ear to ear clearly proud of himself. He nodded at Roderick. The giant reached into a pocket of the vest he was wearing and pulled out a roll of bills. Slowly he counted out the dollars. Oliver Kingston Dukes accepted the payment, and with a look of humility he left the table walking back to the bar and Frank Cutler.

Martin Katy turned from his chair “Cutler” he yelled, “His stay is on me, Give Luther here the bill when he leaves.

Frank Cutler acknowledged the request as the Englishman came to the bar.

“Tough night mister” said Cutler “what'll it be”.

“More whiskey and a beef steak, rare, with some potatoes. If you have them.” stated Dukes.



Oliver Kingston Dukes finished his meal and walked back up the stairs to his room. It was getting late, and most people other than the card players had left the saloon. Downstairs he could here the drunk half breed hammering on the piano. He opened up a small chest he had near his bed. He took off his jacket and threw it across a chair in the corner. Opening the chest he took out a box. He opened it. Taking the money Martin Katy had given him, he put the bank roll in the box, right next to the other ten or so watches he kept hidden. All of them “Passed down from his great grandfather”. Oliver Dukes laughed to himself. Sometimes it was so easy. He sat on the bed. Just as he started to take his boots off, he heard someone yelling from out on the streets. He looked out his window. Down on the streets below the miner Paul Tuttle was helping a man. The man looked dead and was riding a magnificent Palomino.

“Hurry I need help,” yelled Tuttle “someone get Doc Murphy, he's still breathing!”













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The three men half carried and half drug the man down the street. He was a large man and it took all three of then just to move him. Behind them Annie Morgan was arguing with Martin Katy about the horse. Katy had his eyes on the Palomino, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. Annie had led the horse to a trough. Dukes could hear the arguing as they finally reached the doctor's office.

A lantern appeared at the door. The old face of Doctor Samuel Murphy appeared from behind the glow.

“What's going on out there?” he asked opening the door. “Frank, good grief who is this son?”

“We have no idea Doc”, answered Frank. “His horse brought him in; Tuttle here was leaving the Lady when he saw the horse coming down the street. This guy was tied to the horse. He's out, and he looks freezing, but he is breathing.”

“Well bring him into the room in the back, I'll see what I can do.” the doctor ordered.

The three men managed to get the larger man onto a bed. The doctor came in and ordered the three men to leave. Walking back to the front walkway, Frank Cutler, and Oliver Kingston Dukes saw the argument intensifying across the street as the horse drank.

“This horse is the property of that man in that building” yelled Annie as she pointed across the street.

“That man will not make it through the night now give me the damn horse. Just look at it it’s beautiful” he said in awe.

You don't have the right, Katy. Just because your brother owns everything doesn't mean you can just walk around taking what you want.” she was clearly upset, but so to was Katy. He hated being compared to his brother. “Besides” said the whore remarking on his smaller size “You are definitely half the man your brother is!”

From behind her she saw movement in the dark. Massive arms lifted her off her feet. She was kicking and screaming, as Luther picked her up and tossed her into the trough. The woman was stunned. For a moment she just sat there, in the freezing water fuming. Her eyes were like daggers piercing the cold night. Using her hand as a paddle she slapped the water, sending it across the face of Martin Katy

“Why you stupid whore”, he yelled. Momentarily shocked, he realized what happened and slapped her directly across the face. “Who in the hell do you think you are telling me my business, you dried up old whore.”

It was getting very cold and steam came off the man's face as he yelled. From across the street Dukes began to march forward, not exactly liking what he was seeing. He was rolling up the sleeves of his silk shirt. Frank grabbed him.

“Let it go, you won't win, not now, not with two of them.” Frank said to him.

Dukes continued to yell at the two men across the street, calling either one of them to meet him. His act of bravado was irritating the big man. Luther started for him but Katy called him back.

“Luther get that damn horse, we're leaving.” Looking down at the woman, he spat at her. Turning back across the street he yelled. “Frank you’re a stand up man, and I have no quarrel with you but take my advice, lose the whore, and lose the dandy, by tomorrow or next month's payment doubles.”

Annie began to rise from the trough her face was starting to swell, and it was obvious beyond the humiliation she was in pain. Frank just stood there clearly frustrated. Annie was his best whore, truth be told he actually had feelings for her, and he had no quarrel with the Englishman. He couldn't bring himself to reply. He looked at Katy and just nodded.

The men left heading north taking the horse with them, and not even acknowledging the woman who stood there dripping wet in the street.

“What in the hell is he talking about?” Dukes asked. “What payment?”

“My rent” Frank answered “My debt, my payment. Call it what you want. Wilbur Katy gets a piece of everything in this town whether he owns it or not. God I'm sick of this.”

“Let’s go back to the Lady” he told Dukes, “I'll let the Doc know where we are going, in case his patient wakes up. He probably will want to know where his horse went.”

The two men shook hands with Tuttle who had been standing by the door smoking, trying to avoid a conflict with his employer. Dukes got a blanket from the doctor, and wrapped it tightly around Annie.

“We need to get her somewhere warm” Dukes told Cutler

Frank motioned to the whore. “C'mon Annie, enough fireworks for the night, I know you meant good, but god almighty girl, sometimes you need to know your place, and just keep that trap shut.”

Annie nodded but she was still livid and it was written all over her, from the looks on her face, to the defiant posture. She was wringing wet and like an old tomcat, she was ticked.

“I spose you may be right, but I'll be damned if that man don't deserve to breathe another breath, the way he treats folks just ain't right. It was almost worth it just to see him put in his place for once.” She replied.

“Well look where it got the both of you” Frank stated. “Either you’re both homeless, or I need to find a pot of gold. No sense messing with the hand that feeds you if you know what I mean”

“More like controls you” Dukes muttered as they all headed back up the street.

Dukes gave Annie a wink, and tried to keep her warm by holding her. Once again the smile returned to Annie Morgan's face.





Three hours later as Frank Cutler had just finished cleaning the saloon, the doors to the Lucky Lady opened up. He turned half startled, like he was expecting trouble. Instead he saw the old doctor walk in. He looked tired and worn. It had to be near three o'clock in the morning.

“Give me a drink will you Frank” The doctor said as he walked up to the bar.

The bartender poured him a drink. The doctor drank it down quick. He motioned for another, and the bartender obliged. The doctor wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve as he finished the second shot.

“The man is going to live. He had a knife wound across his side which I stitched up, and he also had been shot near the same place. It took awhile but I got the bullet out.” He told Frank. “He is going to be out for a spell I imagine, lost a lot of blood, but I think with enough rest and little luck he is going to pull through.

“Any idea who he is” asked Cutler.

“Aye” replied the doctor, “I looked through the man's papers he carried. He is a bounty hunter from Kansas. His name is Ethan Brody.”

Frank looked surprised as he heard the name. “The Rider!!”

“I believe so Frank, unless there are two Ethan Brody’s.”

Frank couldn't believe it “Hell we got our own celebrity right here in King's Hill”

Everyone knew who Ethan Brody was. His story was legendary. A civil war veteran he returned from the war to his family's farm only to find it burnt to the ground. His wife murdered, along with his parent's and brother. The civil war sergeant went crazy some said, hell bent on revenge. He followed the trail of a man named Gideon Pratt all the way to Santa Fe and then down near El Paso. Pratt had led a gang of confederates, on a murderous rampage in Northeastern Kansas in the final days of the war. Capturing the man, he believed he was doing the right thing, by shooting him down rather than taking him back alive. However in a moment of fury Brody missed his shot to the right and the bullet struck Pratt in the arm tearing through his bicep. Pratt taking advantage of the situation fired back, the bullet grazed Brody's cheek leaving a Devil's Brand a scar that some said burned him to this day. Witnesses watched Pratt flee for Mexico, his arm nearly blown off at the elbow and he was never seen again. Now for the last ten years he had been making his name as a bounty hunter. It was said to be a certified death sentence if the Rider was on your trail. He refused to make the same mistake twice. Alive was no longer an option, the scar on his cheek a painful reminder. He always got his man.

Cutler was excited. He had heard tales of the Rider since he was a boy. He held an almost idyllic affection for the legend.

“Can I see him, Doc, let him know it was me who helped him out, got him to your office.”

“I wouldn't be in such a rush, he will be out for a spell like I said, and don't forget we don't know this man, you were also present when his horse was stolen.” replied the doctor

“Hell I couldn't stop Katy, you know that!”

“I know that, you know that, but that man is dangerous and he doesn't know that.” The bartender saw his point.

“Listen Frank we need to keep this under wraps for the time being.

The bartender didn't understand. The doctor pulled a folded sheet of paper from his jacket.

“This was with his papers. Recognize him” the doctor asked.

Frank Cutler looked at the picture on the wanted poster.

“Hell that's that damn Mexican, Salazar, the one who works for Katy. The one who killed ol’ Sherman .” He still didn’t understand.

“Exactly son and what is the weapon of choice for that damn Mexican”

Suddenly Frank put it together “He uses that knife, that big knife. You don't think he's the one who done this, do you?”

“All I can say is it doesn't take a genius to know that a big knife makes a big cut, he had a big cut, and like you said that Mexican carries a big knife. Plus, if what you told me is right he came from the East. Anything but South puts him riding straight through Katy land. He would have had to come up through the canyon, means he probably ran into some of Katy's boys out there where they keep the cattle. Easily could've been Salazar out there, although I hear he stays close to Wilbur.” The doctor finished eyeing the bottle once again.

“Regardless of what happens, I think we need to keep quiet. Salazar will know something is up when he sees Martin with that horse. He will ask questions, and start looking for answers. Really we need to get Brody out of here, before all hell breaks loose. Hell Martin thinks he is dying, we may be able to use that.”

A noise came from up above, Dukes was in his pajamas, holding a cigar. He had a big smile on his face. Frank bent his neck looking for Molly maybe it was her door closing that he heard.

“Need some help?” said the Englishman “I hate to see an injustice, and personally as a general practice, I do not believe in horse thievery, and I certainly can say gentleman” he said as he blew out a large puff of smoke “I do not endorse the slapping of whores.”