Burning Daylight

by William W. Johnstone

  “One of them crawled up within rifle range.” He shook his head at the sight of his hat, which now had a bullet hole in it. “He’s a good shot, too. That was another reason for the distraction earlier, so we wouldn’t notice him getting into position. It’s hard enough to see an Apache when he doesn’t want to be seen, even under the best of circumstances. The slope is steep enough that we wouldn’t be able to move very fast if we tried climbing it. He’d pick off at least two of us and probably all three before we ever got to the top.”

  “So they got us pinned down here,” Badger said. “And we can’t stop ’em from flankin’ us.”

  “That’s about the size of it,” Luke said.

  “So what do we do?” Aaron asked nervously.

  “Wait until it gets dark. Then they’ll come at us from both directions at once. Do you have any fight left in you, Aaron?”

  “I don’t have much choice about it, do I?”

  “There’s always a choice,” Luke said. “You can give up and die.”

  Aaron shook his head. “No, sir. Not without a fight.”

  Badger grinned and said, “I may not understand ever’thing about you, boy, but I reckon you’ll do to ride the river with.”

  “That’s my impression, as well,” Luke added.

  Aaron swallowed again and nodded. Luke thought it was a damned shame that a boy only twelve years old was put in the position of having to fight for his life, but Aaron wasn’t the first youngster whom life had backed into a corner where it was kill or be killed. He almost certainly wouldn’t be the last one, either.

  * * *

  The rocks provided protection from bullets and arrows but not much in the way of shade. The burning sun crawled across the sky during that long afternoon. Sweat soaked the shirts worn by Luke, Aaron, and Badger.

  Aaron had an almost full canteen, so they didn’t go thirsty, although at Luke’s suggestion they limited how much they drank. In all likelihood, the standoff would be over once the sun went down, and they would either be dead or free to move on and find water elsewhere, possibly even back at that spring-fed pool. There was a slim chance they would survive the night and still be pinned down, so they needed to make the water on hand last as long as possible.

  Aaron sat with his back against the boulder where he had taken cover. After a while, his head drooped forward so his hat brim shielded his face.

  Badger nodded toward him and said quietly, “The boy’s gone to sleep.”

  “You can, too, if you want to,” Luke said. “I’ll keep watch.”

  Badger shook his head. “When a fella gets to be my age, he don’t sleep all that good to start with. Too many aches and pains . . . and memories. No, if I only got a few hours left, I’d just as soon spend ’em awake.” The old-timer paused. “Damn shame about the lad, though. He ain’t hardly had a chance to live yet.”

  “Don’t go giving up. We have plenty of ammunition.”

  “Yeah, but them devils outnumber us two to one. And what I told the boy about ’Paches not bein’ good fighters was just bull. You know that.”

  “Maybe, but believe it or not, I’ve been in worse scrapes than this and came out with a whole hide, Badger.”

  “I reckon in your line o’ work, that’s probably true.” Badger shook his head. “A bounty hunter. I wouldn’ta guessed it. I suppose I should be glad I don’t have no ree-ward dodgers out on me. Leastways, not that I know of.”

  Luke grinned. “You don’t think I’d turn you in for money, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t want to predict what a bounty hunter might do, no more than I would a diamondback rattler or an Apache buck.”

  “Are you comparing me to those two things?”

  “You’re all natural-born killers, ain’t you?”

  Luke didn’t have any answer for that.

  Time dragged because of the heat and misery, but as the day went on, the sun seemed to dip faster and faster toward the horizon, as if something were making it speed up. That something was the impending Indian attack, Luke knew. Their lives were on a deadline now, a deadline of darkness, and it was racing toward them.

  Aaron woke up and complained of a crick in his neck because of sleeping with his head hanging forward that way. Then he said, “I don’t reckon it’ll bother me much longer, will it?”

  “You’ll forget about it once the excitement starts,” Badger told him, “and then when it’s over you’ll be so excited that we come through all right, you won’t care about no little pain in the neck.”

  Aaron looked over at Luke. “Mr. Jensen, if you get out of here alive and . . . and I don’t . . . will you see to it that my ma knows what happened to me? Tell her I didn’t back down, that I stepped up and did my part. Will you do that? I’d ask you to see that she’s took care of, but that’s not in any way your responsibility—”

  “You can tell her about all of this yourself, if you want to,” Luke interrupted him. “You might not want to. It might upset her. But that’ll be up to you.”

  “Damn it, if I don’t make it and one of you two fellas do, you’ve got to go back and talk to her—”

  Quietly, Luke said, “Aaron, if it comes down to that, I will see to it that she’s taken care of, and I don’t mean she’ll have to marry Sheriff Collins. Don’t worry. Just concentrate on what we’re facing here.”

  “And it ain’t gonna be much longer now,” Badger said. “The sun just set, and in these parts, when night falls, it comes down mighty hard and fast.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Luke gave Badger the extra revolver from his saddlebags, along with a box of cartridges for it.

  “Wish I still had the ol’ Sharps I used to have,” the old-timer said. “If I did, I’d pick them red devils off long before they got anywhere close to us.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Luke said, although in truth he had no idea what sort of shot Badger was. “How are you at close work?”

  “I can handle it,” Badger said with a grim nod.

  “You’re responsible for covering our rear, then. Aaron and I will handle the front.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Badger agreed. “You boys have got long guns. ’Course, they ain’t gonna do you much good once it gets dark, because you won’t be able to see those heathens creepin’ up on us.”

  “That’s why we have to be ready to act fast when the time comes. Aaron, you’ve got a round chambered in that Henry?”

  “Yes, sir, I do,” the boy replied solemnly. “One in the chamber and fifteen more in the magazine.”

  Luke grinned in the rapidly gathering dusk. “People used to say you could load a Henry on Sunday and shoot it all week. I doubt if it’ll take you that long to empty it this evening, though. Just don’t rush your shots. Chances are, you won’t have time to reload, so those sixteen rounds are probably all you get in this fight.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll remember that.”

  Luke heard a tiny quaver of fear in the youngster’s voice. Aaron was trying to put up a brave front, but he had to be terrified. Luke was more than a mite uneasy himself. Knowing half a dozen Apaches lurked out there in the deepening darkness was enough to spook any man, no matter how much courage he had. It didn’t help matters that the bodies of the Apaches they had killed earlier still lay close by, constant reminders of death.

  “Get ready, boys,” Badger whispered suddenly. “I just heard a rock move a little, up on the slope—”

  The old-timer didn’t get any more words out before a bloodthirsty screech tore the night apart.

  Luke brought the Winchester to his shoulder, thinking that the remaining Apaches in the war party must be young bucks who lacked the patience to wait until the sky was completely dark. He spotted movement, a shifting of gray and black shadows, as one of the renegades leaped up from where he had crawled close to the rocks.

  Orange flame spurted from the muzzle of Luke’s rifle as he fired. He thought he saw the shape he was aiming at lurch backward, but it was difficult to be sure in the poor light. He jack
ed another round into the chamber and fired again in the same general area, then swung the Winchester to the right, toward a charging figure who loomed up out of the darkness no more than ten feet away.

  To Luke’s left, Aaron’s Henry cracked twice, fast. The heavier booms of the Colt Badger was using came from behind them. Luke and the Apache rushing at him fired at the same time. The hot breath of a bullet brushed past Luke’s cheek, then the slug spanged off a rock somewhere behind him. The man in front of him grunted and stumbled. Luke worked the Winchester’s lever, fired another round, and the bullet flung the renegade backward.

  “Yee-owww!” Badger yelled.

  Luke spun around, saw the old-timer grappling with an Apache. The Colt roared twice more, but the reports were muffled, both the sounds and the flash, and Luke knew Badger had rammed the muzzle against the Apache’s body as he pulled the trigger. They both went down.

  Another figure leaped toward Aaron from behind as the boy continued to fire out into the flat in front of the boulders. Luke had the Winchester at his hip, and there was no time to raise it to his shoulder. He triggered anyway, but the Apache kept coming. Luke dived forward and rammed his shoulder into the man, knocking him away from Aaron.

  The collision sent Luke sprawling to the ground, as well as jolting the rifle out of his hands. He rolled over, saw the Apache scrambling back to his feet close by, and kicked out with both feet. His boot heels caught the man in the chest and drove him backward against one of the boulders. Luke heard the solid thump as the back of the man’s head hit the rock.

  The Apache rebounded and started to pitch forward, probably stunned. Luke rose to meet him, the bowie knife in his left hand. He brought it up and the razor-sharp blade went into the Apache’s belly. Luke twisted the knife and ripped it to the side. The hot rush of blood and entrails over his hand seemed scalding. His face was close to the enemy’s face as the Apache grunted and died.

  Luke yanked the knife free and shoved the collapsing body aside, then realized the old-timer and the boy weren’t shooting anymore. “Badger! Aaron! Are you all right?”

  “Y-yeah, I . . . I think so,” Aaron said.

  Luke saw him leaning against the boulder, still holding the Henry.

  A groan came from Badger, who lay on the ground beside the dark shape of the Apache he had shot.

  Luke looked around, didn’t see anything else moving in the shadows, and told Aaron, “Straighten up and stay alert.”

  “Y-yes, sir.” Aaron swallowed so hard Luke heard the gulp as he dropped to one knee beside Badger.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t . . . I don’t think the varmint stabbed me . . . or nothin’ like that. He just . . . ran into me and walloped that bullet wound . . . in my side. Feels like . . . it’s bleedin’ again . . . and it hurts like hell.”

  “We can take care of that,” Luke assured him.

  “Does that mean . . . you got some more whiskey . . . squirreled away somewheres?” Badger asked with a hopeful note in his voice.

  “No, but we can clean up that wound and stop the bleeding as soon as we’re sure the fight is actually over.”

  “Oh.” Badger sounded disappointed.

  Luke turned his head toward the boy. “See or hear anything, Aaron?”

  “No, sir. Did . . . did we kill all of them?”

  “Too soon to say. But we did for some of them, anyway, and maybe the others took off for the tall and uncut. Get your mule and my horse. You’re going to lead them while I help Badger. We’re going up to the top of this ridge. I don’t hanker to spend the rest of the night here, surrounded by corpses, and we’ll have higher ground that way, too.”

  He got an arm around Badger and carefully lifted the older man to his feet. Badger groaned again but seemed fairly steady. Climbing the slope in the dark while keeping Badger from falling wasn’t easy, but Luke managed the task. Horseshoes rang against the rocks as Aaron led the two mounts up behind them. If any of the Apaches were still around, they would hear that and know their intended victims were on the move, but nothing could be done about that.

  No one else attacked them as they ascended the ridge. When they reached the top, Luke found a stand of small but hardy pines and lowered Badger to the ground so that he was able to lean back against one of the trees. Aaron tied the reins to a small pine as Luke moved back to the edge and scanned the nighttime landscape around them. All seemed peaceful and quiet. Of course, he knew how deceptive that could be.

  “All right. Aaron, you’re standing guard while I tend to Badger,” he said when he returned to the others. He knelt beside the old-timer and pulled up Badger’s vest and shirt. The dressing tied against the wound was wet with blood. Luke had to work by feel as he got one of his spare shirts from his saddlebags, tore cloth from it to make another pad, and bound it into place. It would have been easier if he could have kindled even a small fire, but he didn’t want to risk it. They had survived the battle against the Apaches, but it wouldn’t pay to push their luck.

  Luke gave Badger some water to keep him from getting too dried out because of the blood he’d lost, then the old man dozed off. Luke walked to the edge of the trees where Aaron was standing and said, “Anything?”

  “Nope. I think maybe we killed all of them, Mr. Jensen.”

  “Be a good thing if we did. That way no one would be left to go back to the rest of the bunch and get help.”

  Aaron turned his head to stare at Luke. “You think there are more of them?”

  “Hard to say. Most of the Apaches have gone to live on the reservations, but there are still plenty of holdouts in isolated areas like these hills. This war party may have branched off from a larger group, or it could be that was all of them. There’s only one way to find out—wait and see what happens.”

  Aaron sighed and said, “I’m not sure but what waiting is almost as hard as fighting.”

  “That’s a lesson a lot of men have learned from war.”

  * * *

  The long night was finally over. Aaron had slept a little, Luke not at all. Badger had been restless during the night, and when Luke rested his hand against the old man’s forehead as gray streaks began to appear in the eastern sky, he could tell how warm Badger was. The old-timer was running a fever. He needed better medical attention than Luke could provide for him out in the middle of nowhere.

  The sort of medical attention he might be able to get at the Black Castle. Luke was confident that someone at Henry Stockbridge’s stronghold would be experienced in patching up bullet wounds.

  Luke needed Badger to tell him how to find the Black Castle, though, and for that, the old man needed to be conscious. Luke woke up Aaron and told him, “Keep an eye on Badger. Give him some water if he wakes up.”

  “What are you going to do, Mr. Jensen?”

  “Go down there and take a look around,” Luke said with a nod toward the boulders where the previous night’s desperate battle had taken place.

  With his fully loaded Winchester held ready, he walked and slid down the slope. The bodies of two more Apache warriors had been added to the four already scattered around the clump of rocks, and as the light grew stronger, Luke counted five corpses sprawled on the flats near the rocks. He had killed two Indians back in the canyon where the spring was. That made thirteen. Badger had figured the members of the war party at a dozen, but Luke had already realized that Badger’s count was slightly off. The question was, had there been thirteen renegades, all of whom were now dead . . . or was there another Apache or two out there somewhere, a potential source of more danger for them?

  Luke didn’t know, and it would have taken quite a bit of searching for hoofprints to find out. For now, he thought it would be safe to build a fire, get some coffee and food inside Badger, and then try to locate the Black Castle.

  “What did you find?” Aaron asked when he got back to the top of the ridge.

  “Just a bunch of dead Apaches,” Luke said. “I reckon you did for at least two more
of them.”

  “I wish I hadn’t.”

  “Then they likely would have killed us,” Luke pointed out as he started gathering small, broken branches for a fire.

  “Well, then, I wish I hadn’t been forced to kill them.”

  “Like I said, there are always choices. As far as I’m concerned, you made the right one. Here, finish building this fire while I dig out my coffeepot.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Coffee and bacon perked Badger up some, but he was still weaker and more disoriented than he had been before the battle the night before. If Luke had had any more whiskey, he would have gladly given it to the old man as a bracer.

  “We’re going to have to take you to the Black Castle, Badger,” Luke told him after they had finished eating. “Do you think you can ride?”

  “Yeah, I reckon so, but we never did find my mule. Or did we? I disremember. Oh, Lord, I hope the ’Paches didn’t get him. He was a good ol’ mule. I hate to think about him goin’ in some filthy squaw’s stewpot.”

  “I’m sure he got away,” Luke said, even though he was sure of no such thing.

  “You can ride with me, Mr. O’Donnell,” Aaron offered without hesitation. “Neither of us weigh all that much, and my mule Titus, he’s plenty strong. He can carry both of us without any problem.”

  Luke had been about to suggest the same thing. He was glad that Aaron had thought of it himself. Showed that the boy’s mind was working. He wasn’t dwelling any longer on what had happened before but was looking to the future instead.

  Luke had loosened the cinches on his horse and Aaron’s mule after they climbed up atop the ridge but hadn’t removed the saddles. He retightened the cinches and got Badger on his feet. With Luke on one side of the old man and Aaron on the other, they boosted him into the saddle on the mule’s back. Aaron climbed on behind.

  Luke began to caution the boy. “He’s pretty weak—”

  “Don’t worry,” Aaron said. “I won’t let him fall off.”