It was a band of beleaguered riders that rode into the darkness of the valley that night. Tired worn horses stepped unsteadily down the slick wet grass covered hill that brought them close to the remains of the burned cabin. Ace Noonan shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, trying to ease the pain. Blood dripped off his fingers as it oozed out from the cuff of his sleeve. His massive head lolled forward against his chest and a glaze was building up over his eyes.
They were a tired group of riders feeling almost defeated. Sure they had gotten the money they went after, but they had paid a price. Two men had been left dead, blood soaking in the mud at Mud Flats. There were only six of them left now, and two were wounded. Cliff Bean was only slightly hurt, his left arm bandaged where a bullet had sliced the meaty portion of his upper arm. Ace had been hurt, but no one knew how bad, for he would not complain and he tried to hide it from the rest. But, Bill and Sid knew the old man was hit harder than what he let on, while he kept his men moving northward.
The driving rain had let up considerably by the time the Noonan Gang had ridden into Mud Flats. The town lived up to its name as the streets were a sea of mud. The sky was still very dark with cloud cover, but the rain was now just a drizzle. The streets were empty of travel, and although it was near noon time, it was still dark enough from the storm, that lights flickered inside the buildings. The riders had drawn rein at the edge of town and surveyed the territory. The town was quiet, no one on the streets to see them ride in. Still to be cautious, they would separate into three groups, as was their usual strategy. Ace, Sid and Cliff Bean rode in first; passed by the saloon and tied up in front of the bank, removed their saddle bags and carried them inside. Charlie Noonan, Sam Diehl, and Pug Taylor followed after a couple of minutes. They rode past the first trio and stopped in front of the hardware store, a little further up the street. Bill Noonan and Pete Gell then rode in and stopped in front of the saloon. They remained in their saddles, watching the street.
After a few moments, the door to the bank opened and Cliff Bean stepped through, gun in hand surveying the street, then motioned to the others behind him. He stepped down off the plank sidewalk leaving room for Ace and Sid to back through the door, with bulging saddle bags draped over their left forearms, while keeping their guns on the people inside the bank. Once out onto the sidewalk, Sid slammed the door shut, and they both turned to their horses.
A shot rang out from across the street. Cliff Bean, yelped with pain and surprise as a bullet, tore into his arm and spun him around, dropping him into the mud. Instinctively, Ace and Sid fired back in the general direction where the shot had come from. They saw no one, but they were sure there was someone in the alley between the barber shop and the mercantile. They fired rapidly, pounding lead into the corners of the buildings on each side of the alley, while Cliff arose to his feet and struggled to mount his horse.
The other members of the gang wheeled their horses and joined in on the firing. A rifle blast sounded twice from atop the livery. The first slug whizzed close to Charlie Noonan’s head and with the second shot, Sam Diehl flew backwards from the saddle into the mud, blood spreading across his chest. Charlie whipped his mount around and saw a blue uniformed soldier on the roof of the livery, fire again. Then as he saw Pug Taylor take a slug in the head, from the cavalry man’s weapon, he fired back. The soldier stumbled backwards a step, dropped his rifle and clutched at his chest just before his knees sagged. He pitched forward off the roof and splashed into the mud.
Meanwhile, Ace and Sid were making their way to the horses, firing haphazardly at first, seeing no one. As they climbed into their saddles a soldier appeared from the alley, firing his rifle and pistol rapidly as he came. Bill Noonan, from up the street, opened fire, giving cover. The soldier, momentarily distracted, swung his rifle toward the returning fire, giving Ace the opportunity to send fire back. The soldier’s rifle flew into the air as he pitched backward into the street.
As the frenzied band of outlaws grouped into a riding mass, a young man wearing a lawman’s star raced out of the livery, firing wildly as the bandits raced passed him. Ace slumped in the saddle as hot lead tore into his side. But with sheer determination, he righted himself, turned in the saddle and fired once more. The young lawman felt the impact of the bullet tearing into his left hip and sprawled face first into the mud.
The lawman quickly pushed himself up on his hands, rising just enough to lift his pistol. With rain and mud dripping in his eyes, the fleeing band of outlaws was just a blur. He squeezed off a shot, just as a trooper ran into the street, firing his service revolver after the bank robbers. Nausea poured over the lawman as he realized the trooper had run in the way of his bullet. Blood flowered on the back of the soldier’s tunic and he fell, face down in the street.
The lawman full of remorse and defeat, let his pistol fall, and then let his body fall with despair, back into the oozing mud. A gold plated pocket watch had fallen from his vest and lay open in the muddy street. The picture of the young lawman and his wife on their wedding day was splattered and streaked with mud.
The Noonan gang continued at break neck speed, endangering their mounts as they slipped and slid in the slushy mud and later on, slick west grass as they rode into the mountains to the north. As the day wore on, the storm had completely subsided and the sky began to clear with the sun finally breaking through the clearing clouds. The tired band had pushed their horses to the limit, and were finally forced to stop for a rest next to a secluded mountain stream that trickled through the pass they had just ridden through.
Here they rested their horses briefly, watered them, filled their canteens and pushed on. Ace, notably, had not dismounted during the stop. Probably, for fear of not being able to remount. His orders were short and gruff, with little else to say.
So far a posse did not seem to be close on their trail, but they all knew that even if they had left any abled bodied men in town, who might take after them, they had probably been discouraged by the sound of Apache war drums beating in the hills and smoke signal rising from the distant bluffs north of town. Just as Ace had feared, Charlie’s little attack on a peaceful hunting party had probably touched off a fuse that had just been waiting to be lit.
Although they saw no sign of hostiles all day, other than the smoke and drums, they knew the country had now come alive with danger and destruction. As the party of men rode into the valley, they could smell the ashes of the cabin up ahead, long before they saw the smoldering cabin remnants and the stench of death.
Knowing that the Indians had already been here and gone, assured the gang that this might be a good place to stop. There was a stone well standing in what had been the front yard of the cabin. They could get water here. Possibly hole up for a while and rest before moving on before daylight.
As they rode up to the well, Ace was hanging on to the pommel of his saddle, doubled up, leaning over his horse’s neck. His face was ashen and his eyes were glazed over as he tried to pull his mount to a halt. Then as if reaching his goal was all he was hanging on for, his bloody hands slipped from the saddle horn and the big man’s body fell out of the saddle and on to the ground.
Bill leaped from his saddle, ran to his father’s side and rolled him over on his back. Sid hurried to the well, found a bucket tied to a rope and dropped it into the water below. Then, started cranking the bucket full of water back up.
Bill had pulled Ace to a half sitting position, cradling him in his arms, by the time the others had dismounted and gathered around, staring at their fallen leader gasping for breath. Sid squeezed himself in and squatted beside Ace. He dipped a dipper into the bucket and brought it up to Ace’s lips. The outlaw leader pulled his head away, refusing it. “The gang’s yours now, son,” the elder Noonan rasped feebly as his life ebbed away. His eyes fluttered, then froze into an unseeing stare into Sid Denglert’s face. Bill pulled his father to his chest and choked on a stifled sob.
Sid poured the dipper back into the bucket and set it aside. He placed his gnarled hand
on Bill’s shoulder and said softly. “He’s gone boy. Let it go. Let him go.”
Bill held on for a moment longer, then, he let the old man’s body down to the ground. Sid reached out and brushed Ace’s eyelids shut. He now looked like he was sleeping.
“They knew we were coming, didn’t they, Sid?” Bill said bitterly.
“I’m afraid so, son,” Sid answered quietly.
“But how?”
“I don’t know, boy,” Sid replied. “I…I just don’t know.”
“I won’t rest until I find out, Sid,” Bill oathed. “I’ll make them pay for this.”
At that moment, Bill Noonan knew that any previous thoughts of leaving the gang could no longer be entertained. His life was just what it was, and now he was leader of the Wolf’s Lair Gang and he would carry on in his father’s place.
“Sure, kid,” Sid reassured him. “But now, don’t you think we’d better take care of him?”
“I guess you’re right,” Bill said reluctantly. “But, I hate to leave him out her in the wild.”
“I rode with your Pa for a good many years, son. I’m sure he would find the valley a nice place to rest for all eternity.” Then to the other men, Sid said, “Look around and see if you can find a shovel or something we can use to dig a grave.”
After a search of the grounds, a fire rusted shovel had been found in what was left of the barn. In addition, the search had turned up the body of Jean LaFarge and both bodies were planted in shallow graves which they dug beneath a white oak tree. There would be no marker for either man. LaFarge was unknown to them and Ace Noonan would have to remain unknown to the rest of the world.
Dawn was starting to approach when the work was completed. Bill stood silently, head bowed, hat in his hand as he bid a final farewell to the man who had raised him and had meant so much to him. A slight breeze tugged at his dark hair and a shock fell into his misty eyes. Then with resolve, he placed his hat back on his head and turned to see his men already saddled and ready to ride. Sid held his horse for him, while he stepped into the stirrup and started to swing up. That’s when he heard it. He stepped back to the ground and looked off across the valley. He listened intently. Then he heard it again. At first he thought it was the soft moan of the wind, but it couldn’t be. The breeze was too mild. Was it the sound of a lonesome coyote? Or was it the wail of ancient spirits? No. The sound was clearer now and he knew exactly what it sounded like. But it couldn’t be. Not out here in the lonely wilderness with no one else around. Then he heard it again. And looking at his men, he knew they heard it too. And they too, were just as sure as he what it was. It was the sound of a baby crying.
They found the baby lying in the thicket wrapped in a blanket that had the name. ‘Tommy’ embroidered in red around its silky border. Bill cradled the infant in his arms and tucked the baby’s blanket tightly around the child and carried him back toward the horses.
“What are you going to do with him?” Sid asked.
Bill’s thoughts were already racing. “I’m going to keep him, Sid,” he answered quietly. This might just be what Virginia would need to keep her complacent. Another child to care for. He knew she wanted more children, but after the hard time with Little Bill’s birth, they had decided it wouldn’t be worth the risk to try for another. Especially, once she found out that Bill was now in charge of the gang, she might fear she was trapped in the Wolf’s Lair for good. But, now that he was boss, perhaps he could run the gang differently. Perhaps he could maintain a respectable home in a city somewhere when he was not on a job. It just could work. Besides, with Sid to help him and be in charge when he was not around, it seemed like a viable idea. He wasn’t sure how Sid was taking it that Ace had not turned the gang over to him. And, making Sid almost an equal partner might soothe any ill feelings.
“Keep him?” Charlie Noonan piped up. “You can’t bring a baby along with us. He’ll just be trouble and he’ll slow us down. Just you forget that kind of nonsense and let’s get away from here before the law or Apaches catch up to us.”
“We’re getting out of here all right,” Bill said irritably. “But the baby’s going with us.”
“Oh, no,” Charlie seethed. “I say no.”
“You’ve got no say, Charlie.”
“Oh, yes I have,” Charlie grinned wryly. “With Ace gone, that makes me in charge now.”
“Ace turned the gang over to Bill, Just before he cashed in,” Sid chimed in. “I heard him.”
“That can’t be,” Charlie snarled. “I’m his brother.”
“I guess a son outranks a brother, Charlie,” Sid drawled with a slight smile. “Out ranks an old friend too,” he added. Then to Bill, “As it should be, son.” He smiled and Bill knew that Sid was ok with the new command.
CHAPTER THREE
Apache Gunhawk Page 2
