by Paul Bedford
By the time the last vestiges of light began to drain out of the sky, everything was prepared. Even the ornery Davis had to admit that the plan was good. An acceptable crossing point, partially tested by Taw behind a screen of trees, had been located one hundred yards down river and was therefore further away from the butte. Two travois had been constructed out of off cuts from the Cottonwoods, to transport the injured men Indian fashion. With long parallel poles stabilized by a third and then bound together by rawhide and a network of small branches, the conveyances could be dragged along behind the horses. Taw was well aware that the two men would suffer terribly from the jarring movement, but there was simply no help for it.
For the initial crossing, Jed had agreed to grit his teeth and ride over on horseback. Clay’s travois had been strapped across the backs of two spare horses that were to be led to the south bank: an arrangement that would hopefully keep him above the water level. With the time to move almost upon the depleted band of scavengers, it was decision time for Cathy. Taw took her to one side and placed his hands gently on her shoulders.
‘We’re all going across that river. Then the main group are heading south, while I remain near the riverbank with a couple of the boys. I aim to finish Clemens, along with whoever else is with him. You’ve no say in that, but I will give you a choice. You can either go with my men or take off by yourself once you’re clear of the area. I guess I owe you that much.’ He paused to give her time to take that in before asking, ‘So which’ll it be?’
Her lovely eyes widened at the stark options. ‘So after all this, you’re just turning me loose?’
For the first time since New Haven, his features registered embarrassment. ‘I never foresaw any of this. The killings and more especially you. I guess lust has become something more. All I know is that I don’t want to see you hurt.’
‘And yet you intend to kill my husband!’
The more customary determination returned to his face. ‘Violence is our trade, lady. You’ve got to understand that. I never expected to meet someone like you out here, but that can’t change what’s going to happen to John Clemens. He drew first blood, so I’ve got to end it!’
‘Boss!’ Davis hissed. ‘We need to go.’
Taw stabbed a finger directly at him. ‘One minute,’ he snarled, before returning his full attention to Cathy. ‘Decide!’
Despite the cold, she could feel her palms growing clammy. Her heart was beating furiously. Out of all the homesteads in Montana, why had this man picked hers to raid? The words suddenly came in a rush. ‘I’ll stay with your men. At least until you catch up. But I really don’t know how it’s come to this.’
His relief was obvious and touching. A broad smile spread across his face. Both of them understood the full import of what she had just said. On impulse, his right hand briefly reached out for hers. ‘It must be my roguish charm,’ he quietly responded. Then, turning to his men, he barked, ‘Let’s ride!’
The two men timed their descent to coincide with the fall of darkness. Liam had held his peace throughout the awkward climb, but as they finally mounted their horses, he could restrain himself no longer. ‘Riding over to their camp seems kind of reckless to me.’
John Clemens grunted scornfully. ‘Why so? They’ll all be gone by the time we get there.’
The younger man couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘Didn’t reckon on that big fella leaving his wounded behind.’
‘Hunting critters teaches you a lot. After watching him earlier, I know he won’t have,’ Clemens responded with absolute certainty. ‘But they’ll be gone all the same. They took a beating this morning that they won’t care to repeat. Now enough talk. You just concentrate on leading us to the river and then I’ll take over.’
Even though he complied, Liam regarded the other man with belligerent silence. He was getting mighty tired of playing second fiddle to a ‘blowhard’. So much so that he actually contemplated cutting loose from his dominating companion. Only after much thought did he finally decide to see what the night brought, before doing anything drastic.
Jed cried out in pain as his wounded leg jarred against the saddle. It served to compound his misery of being immersed up to his waist in freezing water. He had elected to stay off the travois until they reached the other side, but was definitely regretting it.
‘Hush up, you noisy bastard!’ Davis called over. ‘You’ll give us away to that tarnal buffalo hunter.’
Taw, coming up the rear, gave him short shrift. ‘Back up, Davis. That son of a bitch already knows what we’re about and I want him to come after us.’
As the fugitives made their way across the Missouri, Bassett began to mumble insensibly. Atop the two roped travois, he was above the water level, but the pitching and jawing movements of the two tethered animals unsettled him. Such an attempt would have been impossible after a spring thaw, but even so the horses made heavy going of it.
Cathy had more on her mind than the numbing cold. Even as they approached the inky blackness of the south bank, she kept nervously glancing behind her. Somewhere back there was a husband with murder on his mind and such a thought gave her no comfort whatsoever.
‘They’ve gone,’ whispered Liam, as the two men cautiously advanced through the trees. The surprise in his voice was very evident and gave Clemens cause to smile inwardly.
‘Hmm, tell me something I don’t know,’ he retorted. ‘Question is, are they all hot-footing it south, or is there a welcoming committee on the other bank?’ Clemens took a moment before making up his mind. It never even occurred to him to consult with his companion. ‘Follow me,’ he commanded.
*
All of his able-bodied men had elected to remain behind with Taw, but he had deliberately restricted the numbers. Two would be enough, because he didn’t want them tripping over each other in the gloom. He also knew that their pursuers were unlikely to use the same crossing point and from past experience he was able to recall the location of the only other one within a reasonable distance. As a consequence, the three outlaws were spread out behind some rocks directly opposite that spot, but well back from the river. Their mounts were tethered out of hearing range.
‘Nobody shoots until I do,’ he commanded, as he levered up a cartridge from the Winchester’s tubular magazine. The full dark of a cloudy night was upon them, but it would still be possible to make out the moving shapes of men and animals against the flow of the Missouri.
‘All the tracks go into the river here, so you need to take us across elsewhere,’ remarked Clemens softly.
‘Well, I just happen to know of another place only a spit from here. So stay close old man, ’cause I’m not coming back for you if you should wander off and get lost,’ Liam replied with quiet satisfaction and set off carefully along the riverbank.
‘Question is, do they?’ Clemens said to himself, concealing his anger as he followed on.
The screen of trees that had served the outlaws so well was now on their left. After a short distance, Liam urged his horse over to the water’s edge.
‘This is it,’ he whispered.
Clemens drew his Schofield. A single shot Sharps had no place in any night fight. ‘You know the lie of the land,’ he replied equally quietly. ‘I’ll follow you across.’
Liam glanced at him sharply. He had a vague suspicion that he was being manipulated, but it was no time to be arguing. As the two riders entered the seemingly impenetrable dark waters, a freezing chill took their breath away. Ahead of them, on the far side, lay more broken ground and what should have been a comforting silence.
In the dead of night, any metallic movements would sound like an anvil strike, so the waiting scavengers already had their weapons cocked and ready. Taw watched as the dark shapes came up out of the river and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled. He had second-guessed their assailants and now it was pay back time. Taking careful aim at the first horseman, he began to contract his forefinger. Confident that his own men would not pre-empt him, he waited a f
ull minute as the two riders drew nearer. A grin of pure savage delight creased his features as he finally closed his eyes and fired.
Chapter Eight
By intentionally avoiding the blinding muzzle flash, Taw failed to witness its direct result, but he was in no doubt of the outcome. Rapidly working the under-lever, he pumped up another cartridge and then rolled sideways. Only then did his eyes snap open, to be immediately dazzled by a flash from an opposing weapon.
As Taw’s shot rang out, John Clemens reacted with almost animal speed. Even as his companion slumped under the impact of a bullet, he fired once for effect and then flung himself sideways out of the saddle. Two shots crashed out simultaneously from in amongst the rocks and although they had given their positions away, neither of the men obeyed the ‘fire and move’ rule. Conversely, Clemens had barely hit the ground, before he was in rapid motion. Powering to his feet, he raced around the side of his opponents. They suddenly had a deadly foe on their flank, but with their night vision temporarily lost, they didn’t even know it.
As the first gunshot crashed out behind her, the jarring shock literally caused Cathy to jump in her saddle. With other discharges following on, her terrible anxiety only increased. Men were likely dying back by the riverbank and for some wholly illogical reason, it was Taw Johnson’s survival that concerned her most. On sheer impulse, she tugged the reins around and urged her horse back towards the firefight. One of the scavengers yelled out something unintelligible, but she completely ignored him and was quickly swallowed up by the murk. More gunshots rattled out in rapid succession, serving to increase her fears, but leaving little doubt over the direction to follow.
Hearing movement, Johnson’s two men simultaneously realized their dreadful error, but by then it was too late. Initially keeping one eye closed, Clemens emptied his revolver into them with lethal efficiency. First a shot in the chest for the nearest, then, as that man staggered sideways, two more into his partner, bringing that man to his knees. Next, having opened his other eye, he moved round behind them and favoured them both with a single headshot. Well aware that his weapon was empty, the skilled shootist made another change of direction and then backed away. Breaking the Schofield open, he ejected the empty cartridges on the move. He only just avoided disaster, as the Winchester that had settled Liam crashed out a short distance away. Feeling the blast of pressure from the bullet, he dropped to his knees and swiftly reloaded his revolver by feel alone.
Even to a man skilled in gunplay, there was something chilling about the professional efficiency of the shooting. The resulting silence convinced Taw that his men had to be stone dead. This son of a bitch Clemens had obviously killed far more than just dumb animals in his time. He knew when to move and how to shoot, both at extreme range and up close. If the outlaw boss was ever going to finish him, then it had to be there and then, before he reloaded. Because if the assassin did get away, they’d soon all be at the mercy of that damned Sharps again.
Taw aimed slightly to the right of the last muzzle flash, fired and immediately shifted position, working the lever-action as he did so. Then, with the Winchester’s butt tucked tightly into his shoulder, he waited in silence for some kind of movement.
Anything that might give him the edge that he so desperately needed. The pounding of shod hoofs off to his right took him completely by surprise. Surely there couldn’t be another accomplice?
Cathy had never felt so desperately uncertain. She couldn’t see another living thing and yet somehow she could feel the presence of others. Then her heart leapt, as a hand seemed to literally come from nowhere and grabbed her bridle.
‘What in tarnation are you doing here?’ Taw hissed angrily.
‘Looking for you, of course,’ she responded, with a mixture of relief and concern. ‘I heard shots. I thought maybe. . . .’
Taw shook his head with dismay. His priorities had abruptly altered. John Clemens would have to wait. Instead, since a bullet in the dark was no respecter of persons, he had to get the girl to safety. Somehow, it never occurred to him to announce her arrival to their deadly shadow, because remarkably the lovely young woman had already stated that she had come for him and not her husband!
With his ‘cavalry’ sidearm reloaded, Clemens listened intently for any movement. He got more than he bargained for when he heard what he could only assume was a horseman unexpectedly approaching. Since it had to be one of the outlaws returning to help his leader, he dropped flat to the ground to wait on events. Would they, with yet two more dead men, merely break off the action and escape, or instead try to run him to earth in the dark?
The sound of two horses moving off provided his answer and in spite of the situation he laughed out loud. They had passed up on their best chance of killing him, because from then on he would only ever strike from long range.
An anguished cry drifted over from near the river and he suddenly recalled his unfortunate companion. A lot of help he turned out to be, he considered grimly and unfairly.
After cautiously waiting for a few moments, he first confirmed that both his victims were in fact dead and then slowly made his way back to the riverbank. In one of his pockets were the few meagre coins that he had taken from the cadavers. Vengeance was one thing, but he still expected to get a return on the cost of his cartridges.
Their horses had not strayed far in the darkness and on inspection, he found with relief that his ‘truthful’ Sharps was still in its scabbard. Only then did he check on Liam’s condition. For a man well used to death, it was immediately apparent that the young man was in a bad way. Blood foamed from his mouth and glistened over his jacket. His remaining time on God’s creation was limited and unfortunately John Clemens was not the man to make it any easier for him.
‘Is that you, Pa?’ the dying man suddenly called out.
Clemens grunted. ‘I ain’t your pa and I don’t reckon you’ll be seeing him again any time soon.’
The harsh unfeeling tone brought Liam back to temporary lucidity. He seemed to sense that he was to be abandoned to his fate.
‘For pity’s sake, don’t leave me all alone!’ he pleaded.
The man hunter gazed down at him with a total lack of compassion. ‘You’re shit out of luck, fella. I’ve got a trail to follow and that don’t allow any time for doctoring.’ With that, he grabbed the dying man’s belt gun and tossed it out of reach. He had no intention of being shot in the back as he departed.
Some inner reserve of strength prevented Liam from pleading anymore, but he did have something to say. ‘I hope your woman gets taken clear down to Mexico, you miserable bastard. They can’t be any worse than you below the border.’
First light found the ten remaining scavengers and their former prisoner still threading their way through the badlands on their relentless way south. Although their progress was painfully slow, Taw had insisted that they keep moving throughout the night. They had rested up for much of the previous day and he was instinctively certain that Cathy’s husband had survived and would be on their back trail. She, in turn, was uncomfortably aware that by returning to search for her former captor, she had very probably prolonged their deadly ordeal. And yet, it was that very realization that crystallized her new situation in her mind, because she now very definitely considered John Clemens to be the enemy and not Taw Johnson. How that was going to affect her future was still just too much to take in.
‘It’s not your fault,’ the latter individual suddenly remarked. ‘I brought all this on by kidnapping you in the first place.’
Startled by his prescience, she turned wide-eyed towards him and instinctively favoured the big bluff outlaw with a warm smile. Immediately behind them, a young man named Curtis observed the mutual affection with undisguised envy. He sorely wanted a young woman of his own, if only to brag to his cronies, but alas, it was never going to happen. With outstanding accuracy, the heavy calibre bullet struck his unwashed skull, causing it to explode like a ripe melon. As the ghastly corpse toppled sideways, the f
ugitives heard the frighteningly familiar report of a Sharps rifle come to them from the north.
Even as Cathy screamed at the horrific sight, Taw bellowed out, ‘We’ve got to ride like the wind. Once we reach open country that bastard’ll lose some of his edge. Keep the spare animals behind us to throw his aim.’
Jed, already in great pain from his leg, rolled off his travois and hobbled to the nearest horse. ‘I’ll take my chances in the saddle, boss, but if we drag those things at speed it’ll likely finish Clay.’
Taw glanced down at his friend strapped tightly to the conveyance and for a moment his eyes grew moist. Then he reluctantly hardened his heart and retorted, ‘Well then, so be it. We’ve done all we can for him and more. Now move out!’
The nine riders dug their heels in hard and they were off. With the spare horses running at the rear and all the dust raised by the bucking and twisting travois, there was little chance of any more casualties . . . except for the amazingly resilient Clay Bassett. As the tremendous pounding reached his brave heart, it finally gave out. Sadly it was to be some time before anyone noticed, because they were all distracted by Jed’s anguished cries and the effort involved in avoiding rocks and gopher holes and such.
To the desperate marauders, who weren’t used to such sustained flight, it seemed an age before their leader finally eased the pace. Ahead of them was open grassland, which signified at long last that they were clear of the Breaks, with all of its god damned buttes and cliffs that they had initially so welcomed.
‘Once we’re out in that sea of grass, there’ll be nowhere for him to hide,’ Taw announced, with a show of confidence. ‘He’ll have to keep back . . . . hopefully even out of his range.’
He turned to inspect his depleted band and only then did he notice Bassett’s lifeless body, lolling limply on the travois. For the second time that day, tears welled up in his eyes.
