The Widowmaker War

by Kurt Barker

  “Take it easy! The war's over!” Blackshot snapped, fending off her swipes and shoving her back onto the grain sacks.

  Mariposa's hand darted to her thigh, but when it didn't find the knife that she expected there, she looked down and realized for the first time that she was naked. “Shit! What's the fucking idea?!” she shouted, clapping a hand over her bush and throwing her other arm across her exposed nipples as she stumbled back from him.

  Blackshot extended a hand toward the heap of weapons piled up on the crate. “I was just admiring your collection of knick-knacks,” he replied. “Besides, I thought you preferred working au naturel.”

  Mariposa glared at him incredulously, but then a flicker of understanding showed on her face. “Oh, you saw that damn photograph!” she moaned, rolling her eyes. “That was Potrillo's stupid idea. Now give me back my clothes!”

  “El Potro was full of stupid ideas,” Blackshot said, giving the carpet bag a nudge with the toe of his boot. “Double-crossing Calvin Preston has to be pretty high on that list, wouldn't you say?”

  “So you're working for that son of a bitch, is that it?”

  “No, he's more interested in killing than hiring at this point. His next targets are the two women who hid you from him, although I don't suppose you care now that you've made your escape.”

  “Shut up, you fucking bastard! You don't know what you're talking about!” Mariposa flared. “He won't do anything to them without getting his hands on the money first! I know how that snake thinks!”

  “Maybe, but maybe he's smarter than you figure; he was right when he guessed that they knew where the money was! How did you hide it from him when he searched the house?”

  “It was never hidden anywhere; he just searched too early,” the girl sneered. “I had it with me when his gang of thugs ambushed us as the river; Potrillo always had me hold the money. They thought they killed me when they shot me off my horse and I fell in the water, but the bullet only went through the muscle of my shoulder and didn't hurt me too bad. I was able to swim to shore farther downstream, and you better believe I didn't let go of the money! Sure, I headed straight for Ingrid's house, but once I got near I hid in the hills and watched until I was sure it was safe; I saw that self-important fuck search the place, but I was in that house not ten minutes after he left!”

  “That self-important fuck will have the last laugh if he gets his hands on Ingrid and Molly,” Blackshot reminded her. “Maybe he'll keep them alive to trade them for the money, or maybe he won't.”

  “Forget that! They'd never let Sheriff Preston get near them, and he's too worried about his status with the mayor and his high and mighty friends in Jubilation to be seen breaking down their door and kidnapping them!”

  “Maybe Preston wouldn't, but the ghost of Gancho Chavez might.”

  Mariposa's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Didn't the girls tell you? Last night when there was all the trouble, ol' Gancho popped by for a visit.”

  “Gancho's dead.”

  “The real one, yes, but Preston is betting that Molly wouldn't know the difference between a real one and a counterfeit, and there's a lot of information she'd happily tell Gancho and a lot of places she'd happily go with Gancho-- places she wouldn't be too happy to go otherwise.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly.”

  “He won't hurt them without the money,” Mariposa repeated through clenched teeth.

  “You may be sure of that, but I'm not,” Blackshot replied, “and I don't figure to hang around and find out which one of us is right. I'm going to get those girls back and you're coming with me if you want to see the money again.”

  “Don't give me shit about the money!” Mariposa bristled. “I care about Ingrid and Molly more than you do, and I only left today because after last night I thought they'd be safer without me! Let me have a gun and I'll personally give Preston a new part in his hair!”

  “I don't doubt it,” Blackshot said. He gathered up the stack of weapons from the crate, then stepped back to the open door of the train car and heaved them out into the passing prairie. “But a few minutes ago you weren't too fond of my hairstyle either, so I think I'll pass on that offer.”

  “Son of a bitch! I should have killed you last night!”

  “If you feel that way now, just wait a moment.” Blackshot scooped up Mariposa's clothes and tossed them out the door after the weapons.

  “You crazy fucker! What was that for?!” she screamed.

  “Can't be sure I got all the hidden toys out of them, and I'm not planning on finding out the hard way. Don't worry, I've got something for you to wear if you don't feel like living up to your legend.”

  Blackshot ripped open one of the large sacks of grain and emptied the contents onto the floor of the car between their feet. Then he tore the seams apart and threw the sheet of burlap to Mariposa. She ignored it, letting it hit her legs and drop to the ground, fury burning in her eyes.

  “Go on. I hear this look is all the rage back East,” Blackshot said. “Be quick about it, too. We don't have any time to waste.”

  With a mumbled curse, she snatched up the burlap angrily and wrapped it around her naked body. With some difficulty she managed to fold and roll the ends together around her chest so that it would stay in place, and turned to face Blackshot, her hands clenching into fists. Her voluminous breasts were bulging from the top, and one of her broad hips was left bare where the ends of the fabric didn't meet, but it was good enough as far as Blackshot was concerned.

  “I'm holding the money,” Mariposa stated.

  Before Blackshot had a chance to answer, the car lurched beneath their feet and they could hear the wheels squealing as the train began to slow dramatically.

  “Are we at the next town?” he asked.

  “Nowhere near it.”

  “That's what I was afraid of.”

  He stepped through the door and leaned out to see around the corner of the adjoining car. Up near the front cars, a band of horsemen was riding alongside the train. Many of the riders carried rifles, and as the train slowed, some began to board it. Heads popped out of the windows of the passenger cars to look at the sight and Blackshot heard a man from the nearest car shout, “Hey! What's going on there?!”

  “It's a posse! They say there's bandits on board!” came the reply from the car further up.

  Blackshot returned to the freight car to find Mariposa clutching the bag of money to her chest. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Preston's plan worked,” Blackshot said.

  Chapter 19

  The train finally ground to a halt and in the absence of the clattering of the wheels, the sound of horse hooves approaching from the front of the train could be plainly heard. Blackshot stepped back from the door of the car and stood against the wall, pulling Mariposa behind him. The horses stopped and a moment later a boot crunched on the car platform and a shadow filled the doorway.

  A tall, gray-bearded man with a faded army cap pulled low over his brow stepped cautiously into the car, a pistol at the ready in his hand. Blackshot stopped him short with a right cross to the jaw that threw him against the wall. The gun hit the ground at Blackshot's feet, and the man who had held it a moment before joined it on the floor with a heavy thud.

  There was a gasped oath from outside and another man loomed in the doorway, raising the shotgun in his hands as he spotted the scene inside. Blackshot spun around and jabbed out an arm, giving the man a staggering chop across the chest that sent him careening off the platform with his ten-gallon hat flipping into the air in his wake. The shotgun flew from his hand when he hit the ground and went skittering across the dirt and into the scrub brush that lined the tracks.

  The man wheezed as he labored to get to his feet, finally managing it as he looked up to see Blackshot on the platform. He stumbled toward the front of the train, waving an arm and gasping as he tried to shout for help.

  “Shoot him, dammit!” Mariposa cried. “He'l
l get them all coming down on us!”

  “No shooting. Get back inside,” Blackshot commanded.

  “If you don't, I will!” the girl snarled. She dove for the pistol on the floor but Blackshot jumped forward and kicked it toward the back of the car just before her fingers could close around the butt. She turned to follow it but Blackshot snatched a fistful of her hair and jerked her back against him.

  “We're not shooting them,” he growled. “Preston and his deputies have got this posse thinking they're hunting bandits, and I'm not killing innocent men even if they are being used against me.”

  “Innocent?! Don't fool yourself!” Mariposa turned and pointed to a white scar on the back of her shoulder. “The fucking cowards will shoot us in the back without blinking an eye! I already found that out firsthand!”

  “Then we'd better not turn our backs to them.” Blackshot strode toward the rear door of the freight car, pulling the girl along behind him by her hair.

  “Let go! I can fucking walk without your help!”

  “Yeah, but I like to know where you're walking.”

  Even now the man would be alerting his comrades, and the time to plan was short; Blackshot did not want to have to deal with the posse, but this might be his best chance to get the drop on Sheriff Preston and rescue Ingrid and Molly. He had to buy time, and that meant putting what distance he could between himself and the men hunting him.

  He slid the door open and looked out, but saw no one. They crossed into the next car, another freight car, and slipped between the stacks of bags and crates to the door at the far end. This door led to the caboose, and Blackshot pushed open the door and led Mariposa inside. The caboose was occupied by a stocky man in a blue suit and cap, with a bristly mustache. He stood up from his seat to face them as they entered.

  “Hey, who are you?” he demanded.

  “Would you believe I'm a train inspector?” Blackshot asked.

  “No, I wouldn't.”

  Blackshot drew one of the Colts from it's holster and pointed it at the man's midsection. “How about now?”

  The man stood back against the wall. “Inspect all you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  He crossed the car to the back door and slid it open. When he stepped out onto the rear platform he saw a surprising but very welcome sight; Khamsin stood behind the train, pawing the dirt beside the tracks impatiently!

  “Well, I'll be hanged!” Blackshot laughed. “You don't like to be left behind when the action starts, do you?”

  “What is it?” Mariposa asked.

  Blackshot pulled her out onto the platform and gestured to the hulking stallion. “It's our ticket out of here, that's what.”

  Chapter 20

  Blackshot leaned into the doorway and spoke to the man in the blue suit. “Inspection's over. Sit down and keep quiet or I'll put a bad mark on your report.” With that he closed the door to the caboose and whistled for Khamsin to come to him. “I've got a plan worked out that just might do the trick,” he told Mariposa.

  “Of course. We get on the damn horse and light out of here! Let's go!”

  “Yeah, that's part of the plan but not the first part.” He pointed to the ladder at the side of the platform. “Get up on the roof.”

  “Hell no! You're not leaving me behind!”

  “I'm not leaving; I just want to get Preston's boys separated from the rest so I can have a chat with them. Now get up on that roof.”

  “Fuck Preston and fuck you!” Mariposa fumed. “I wanna get off this fucking train before they kill us! Let's take the horse and get going!”

  “But you also want to help the two girls that hid you and your money and got in trouble now because of it, right?” Blackshot asked, grinning humorlessly.

  Mariposa glowered at him. “First I want to get off the damn train,” she stated through gritted teeth, “and then I want to help them.”

  “We're going to do it the other way around. Now get your ass up there.”

  “If you think I'm doing that, you're crazy.”

  “Nothing wrong with being a little crazy.” Suddenly Blackshot tore the bag of money from the girl's hand and hefted it up onto the roof of the caboose. “Now are you going up?”

  “If the posse doesn't kill you, I will!” she muttered as she started sullenly up the rungs of the ladder. “What the hell am I supposed to do up there anyway?!”

  “You're going to get the attention of Preston and his men and keep them distracted while I put the rest of my plan into action. If you do a good job I'll even come back and get you before the posse guns you down.”

  “Very funny, asshole! Just how am I going to get those fuckers to come down here anyway?”

  “You'll think of something.”

  “All I'm thinking of right now is slitting your throat!”

  “Fine, I'll help you,” Blackshot said. As Mariposa climbed from the top of the ladder, he reached up and yanked off the burlap sack that covered her naked body and tossed it away. “There, now it'll be easy to for you to get their attention!” With that he dropped off the platform onto Khamsin's back and turned the stallion toward the front of the train.

  Mariposa's face was red with rage as she scrambled to the edge of the roof. “I'll kill you! I'll kill you!” she screamed at Blackshot's back as he rode away.

  He paid her no mind but drew Khamsin close to the left side of the train and rode cautiously forward. There was no one in sight up ahead except a horse without a rider lingering at the front of the train beside the tender box. The posse had approached from the right side the train, and Blackshot had gambled that they wouldn't be concerned enough about someone trying to escape by running out into the remorseless desert to send many of their limited guns to cover the left side.

  After a few moments he heard Mariposa's voice, shrill with rage. “Hey look, motherfuckers! Come get me, assholes! Hey!” She was stomping up and down the roof of the caboose, her ample curves jiggling impressively as she waved her arms above her head and made every unladylike gesture with her hands that one could imagine.

  Blackshot had to smile in spite of himself as he heard voices raise from the far side of the train. “What's going on?!” “Hell, would you look at that?!” “She must be some kind of lunatic!”

  The sound of running horses started near the front of the train and moved toward the back. “Stay where you are and secure the train! We'll check this out!” a voice shouted. Blackshot stole a look from around the side of the rear freight car and saw the two deputies who had ambushed him at the cabin flash in and out of view as they rode toward the caboose.

  “Leave her be! She's just some mad woman! We gotta deal with the bandits first!” a voice called in reply from a car further up, but the deputies did not stop.

  Blackshot spurred Khamsin forward at a quick pace to the front of the train. When they reached the engine Blackshot caught hold of the rail and hoisted himself up into the cab. There were three men in the little room who all turned to face the sudden intruder; a tall thin man in a blue suit which Blackshot took for the driver, a youth of not more than eighteen whose arms and apron were so stained with soot that he could be nothing other than the fireman, and a stocky man with a handlebar mustache and a sombrero who carried a shotgun in the crook of his arm.

  “It's a bandit!” the young man cried.

  The mustachioed man swore and fumbled to lift his shotgun, but Blackshot snatched the barrel as it raised and jerked it forward. At the same time he lifted a boot and drove it into the man's chest, propelling him out of the cab while the gun that was torn from his fingers went flying out the opposite door.

  “Not a bandit, a train inspector,” Blackshot said. “Ask anyone.”

  The driver opened his mouth to call, but the muzzle of a pistol jabbing into his ribs stopped him short. Outside confused voices were shouting from the passenger cars and running footsteps came quickly toward them.

  “Take it easy, friend. They already know,” Blackshot said. “Now get this
train moving, and fast! Inspector's orders!”

  Chapter 21

  From the look in his steel gray eyes to the black Colt in his hand, everything about the “inspector” said that he was not a man to trifle with, so the driver and fireman got to work without hesitation. As they began firing the engine, the first of the posse reached the cab; a man in a buckskin jacket grabbed hold of the rail and leaped up to the door of the cab with a pistol in hand.

  He was met immediately by Blackshot's fist thumping into the side of his head and he fell away out of sight just as quickly as he had appeared. The locomotive was wheezing out thick plumes of smoke now and beginning to ease slowly forward, but even above the noise the voices of the approaching posse could be heard.

  “They mean well, that lot out there, but they're getting on my nerves,” Blackshot muttered. “Excuse me a minute, boys.”

  He crossed to the door of the cab and leaned out; the man in the buckskin jacket was crumpled in a heap on the ground, but Mr. Handlebar-mustache was making another run at the cabin and a second man was jumping down from the first passenger car, rifle in hand and ready to join the pursuit. Blackshot reeled off two quick shots that kicked up dust at the feet of the running man, making him stumble and fall as he tried to dodge. The other man raised his rifle to return fire, but Blackshot's next bullet lifted his hat from his head and sent him ducking into the scattered underbrush for cover.

  By now the young fireman had the engine blazing hot and the train was rolling slowly but steadily along the tracks. Blackshot tipped his hat to the two men as he returned to the door he had entered from and dropped onto the back of Khamsin.

  “Sorry to trouble you like that,” he said, “but this has turned into a pretty troubling day!”

  He raced toward the back of the train as fast as the sleek Arabian's legs would take him; Mariposa was resourceful but Blackshot did not want to leave her to deal with the dangerous deputies on her own for long. He had not seen or heard Sheriff Preston at any point, and he didn't like it. He needed to find out where Preston was and he knew who could tell him.