Lake Superior Tales

The Bigg Man-2

“It was a misunderstanding. It’s been cleared up.”

“Yea, I thought maybe it might be. Mug?”

“Yeah. I need to know something. Where would you hire someone of exceptionally questionable character?”

“You mean murderers, thieves, cutthroats and that sort?”

“That’s the idea.”

“For being here so short of a time, what makes you think we have those types?”

“The short time I spent in here.” He grinned at Jake.

“Point taken,” replied Jake. “There’s a place. It’s a saloon on the other side of the fort, past McKnight’s docks up in the woods. It’s a nasty place. A man gets killed in there and they just dump him in the river, no questions asked. It gets washed downstream and they never find a body. It’s like they left town. Listen, Biggs, take my advice, you go in there, being a stranger, in five minutes you’ll be carried out feet first and tossed in the drink.”

“I’ve been in some pretty tight spots in my day, but thanks for the advice. I’ll be careful.”

“Gabriel, they don’t call it the Blood and Guts for nothing.”

Biggs finished his mug and went back to his room at the boarding house. He opened his luggage trunk and took out a wooden case. It was rectangular and about six inches thick. On the top was a brass plate that had an inscription etched into it: TO THE MEANEST MAN I EVER KNEW, ANDREW JACKSON. Gabriel smiled to himself as he read it.

* * *

It had happened more than ten years ago. A group of men had been walking with the President, Andrew Jackson. Biggs was one of them. Though the street was lit, there was a deep darkness that hung in the shadows. Out of one of the shadows and behind the men came a man. Even in the dim light the steel from the g*n muzzles flashed, leaving no doubt to their presence. Two men looked back at the President and saw the man approaching behind him. Biggs and the other man, Senator Crockett from Tennessee, grabbed the President’s shoulders and pitched him behind them while the man pulled the triggers. Nothing happened! The guns had misfired! Both men broke for the assailant, Biggs reaching him with a right cross a hair’s breadth ahead of Crockett. Biggs pummeled the man senseless and b****y, but he made sure he was alive enough to stand trial. From that moment on, he had been by “Old Hickory’s” side as unofficial bodyguard.

* * *

Almost reverently, he opened the case. Inside, laid in blue velvet, were what looked like two pistols. But, they were very different. There was no flint, no rod attached to the barrel. Instead there was a round cylinder that revolved behind the barrel and the hammer of the pistol struck what was in the cylinder. It was a new kind of g*n, one invented by Samuel Colt. It was called a “revolver” and it fired six shots without reloading. Jackson had seen this new marvel and had commissioned Colt to make 200 of them for Jackson’s friends and military comrades. The shot and powder was held in a brass casing called a cap so the powder never got wet, and reloading was as simple as sliding another load into the cylinder slot. The g*n was pure genius and very rare. And Biggs had two. An ample reward for having saved his friend and President’s life.

But that had been a long time ago, and he had been young then. Now he was older, wiser and meaner. He reached back into the trunk and pulled out a dark brown coat. It was heavy and leather. He put it on and picked up the colts. There were special pockets on the inside that the guns fit into. Biggs shrugged his shoulder so that the coat lay on his shoulders comfortably. It hung to the back of his knees.

The last thing he pulled from the trunk was a large knife. The sheath buckled onto the outside of his coat where it was easy to snatch. He knew what he was about to do was dangerous but it wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He was prepared. It was why he had been sent here.

He left the boarding house quietly through a side door, went to a line of trees and blended into the shadows of the woods. Darkness was falling and he would be able to move unseen, unheard. Like a phantom he moved past the fort and skirted the Blood and Guts Saloon. The boisterous noise drifting through the trees made it hard to miss. Biggs approached it from behind and then circled around the side, always careful to stay concealed within the trees and underbrush. Gabriel had no desire to end up trout food in the river.

It wasn’t long and he sighted Corporal Ferguson along with his two companions, McCann and James. They had two others with them that Biggs hadn’t seen before. He guessed they were regulars at the saloon. Ferguson was talking to them, the alcohol making them loud enough that Biggs had no trouble hearing them.

“There will be five of us,” Ferguson was saying. “What I want you two to do is act like you’re robbing us. We then shoot the other two soldiers and you take the payroll. We meet up later and we split it.”

“What makes you think that we wouldn’t just keep it all?” one of the men asked.

“Then there wouldn’t be any more jobs and the three of us would suddenly get very good at describing the thieves. If we pull this off, there will be other payrolls we can snatch as well.”

The two men nodded and grinned in the dim light. “We’ll do it.”

Ferguson continued, “We have another job for you, too. There is a new man in town. He seems to spend time at Small’s place. His name is Biggs. He’s the only one that can get between us and that payroll when it comes tomorrow. The three of us can’t touch him but you two can use him for whitefish bait. We need him gone, I don’t care how you do it.”

One looked at the other. “Wanna go fishin’?”

“Let’s go get some bait.” They turned and quickly strode down the path into town.

Ferguson spoke to his comrades. “With the payroll gone, those men that were going to reenlist, won’t. The payroll theft will cause a scandal and Captain Tremaine will be gone. This town will be ours. By the time they send another commander, it will be too late. A second payroll theft and most of the men will desert. Of course we’ll stay. Hell, it might even get us a promotion and maybe even a medal or two.” He laughed at the thought of it. The laudanum he was taking for his battered face made him more conversational than usual.

A noise behind Biggs made him turn, a hand on the hilt of his knife. A very large man stood there. “Who’re you and what you doin’ here, hidin’?”

Biggs could hear Ferguson telling his men to be quiet, having heard the giant. The giant didn’t wait for an answer and lunged at Biggs. Years of instinct, developed by moments like these, took over. He shifted left and the blade of his knife flashed in the saloon light. The giant missed and never got up. He only lay there, making gurgling sounds. Gabriel Biggs slipped into the woods.

Ferguson found the expiring body of the giant. He thought of Biggs. Then he smiled. Biggs wouldn’t live out the night. Those two knew how to kill. It’s what they did best. They’d bleed him for awhile, taking their time. Prolonging it. Then they’d start taking pieces. It would be a fitting end for the one that had embarrassed him so. Biggs would not be a problem.

Gabriel made his way back to Small’s Saloon. He entered and Jake handed him his usual mug. Biggs took a long pull and set the whiskey down. He seemed about to say something when two men came in.

They were the ones Ferguson had hired. Biggs let out a long sigh and thought, ‘Well, this is convenient.’ As he turned from the bar he felt two muzzles protruding into his side and back.

Jake caught a glimpse of what was going on but made no comment.

“Out back,” one of them mumbled. Biggs turned. Jake said nothing.

Biggs felt himself prodded through the door and stepped out behind the building. The three moved to a cleared area. The ground was worn and little vegetation grew. The two men circled Biggs, getting ready to shoot him. One of them gloated, “He ain’t such big stuff. This was easy.”

Biggs saw the shadow moving behind them and heard the low growl. The two men turned, taking their eyes off Biggs for a moment. The Black Bear stood on its back legs. It was all he needed as Biggs pulled both his guns. They fired as one. The two men dropped instantly, their heads leaking blood. Biggs looked up and saw Jake standing in the door. He’d witnessed everything. Biggs came up and spoke to him quietly.

Jake turned and went inside. The other patrons looked at him quizzically, having heard the shot. He turned to one of the younger men and said with urgency. “Run to the Fort and get Captain Tremaine. Biggs has been shot! I think he’s dead.”

Jake kept everyone away from the back door until a few minutes later when Tremaine arrived, followed by a couple of soldiers. One of them was McCann.

“Where is he?” Tremaine spat out breathlessly.

“Out back,” replied Smalls.

“Keep everyone in here.” Tremaine snapped. “McCann, Johnson, guard this door. No one comes out here.”

Tremaine went out and inspected the body. Jake held his customers inside, but a couple could see the body on the ground past Smalls. The guards had an excellent view. Tremaine bent down to listen for a heartbeat. Then he looked up. “He’s dead,” he announced. “I don’t want anyone out here. Lock that door, Smalls. I need to be able to figure out who did this.”

McCann smiled to himself.

* * *

The next day, Tremaine paced in his office, then there was a knock. “Enter,” he shouted and Ferguson came in. “I want you to put together a detail. The payroll comes in tonight on the schooner Invincible. I want you and four other men to escort it back to the fort from the dock.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Ferguson, “I’ll take McCann, James, Johnson and LaLonde.”

“Fine,” said Tremaine. “You’re dismissed.”

Ferguson saluted, turned and left Tremaine’s office. “I really dislike that man,” Tremaine muttered under his breath after the door had slammed. After the payroll detail left the fort, so did Tremaine.

* * *

It was evening before the Invincible tied up at the dock. It had a particularly hard time against the Saint Mary’s River’s current. Ferguson and his detail of men had waited at the dock for two hours. They were getting restless when the ship was sighted on the river. The soldiers stood, and watched the schooner tie up. The Captain stood on the side of the ship, watching everything from the rail. The sailors threw out a gangplank to the dock. He then ordered a chest brought up from the hold.

Ferguson smiled at the sight of it. His plan was working perfectly. Now that Biggs was out of the way, he had nothing to worry about. Ferguson looked at the sky. It was getting dark and it would be a dark walk back. He wondered where their new partners would actually stage the holdup.

The Captain had two of his men carry down the small chest between them. They set it down in front of Ferguson.

“Thanks, Captain, and the men at the fort thank you.” Ferguson saluted the schooner captain.