by Ralph Cotton
‘‘Sorry, Sonny.’’ Koch gave him a confused, bewildered look as they rode at a fast walk down the trail. ‘‘So what do you think? Will it be all right with Prew? I mean, if we both do her.’’
‘‘It’s all right with him if it’s all right with us.’’ Sonny grinned. ‘‘I wasn’t aiming to go back and say, ‘Prew, guess what we did.’ Was you?’’
‘‘Well, no, I wasn’t,’’ said Koch, looking a little embarrassed. They hurried their horses, side by side on the trail.
‘‘He asked us to find the new kid and kill him— the ranger too, if we see him. He never said we couldn’t have ourselves some fun in the doing of it.’’
‘‘I just thought I ought to ask,’’ said Koch.
‘‘And so you did,’’ said Sonny. ‘‘Now don’t worry about it. Prew wouldn’t care if we both do her and the little monk too.’’
‘‘Now that sounds ugly,’’ said Koch, with a disgusted face.
‘‘Sabio, you fool! You imbecile!’’ the former monk cursed himself as he hurried down the jagged rocks toward the pool of water. He had caught a glimpse of the two horsemen just as they’d turned and put their horses on the trail. He knew beyond any doubt that they had seen the naked girl and were now on their way down for her, like hungry wolves. ‘‘You were to be looking out for her!’’ he chastised himself, hurrying, sliding, and struggling to regain his footing.
‘‘But no, you despicable fool! You were too busy deflowering her with your eyes—you and your lustful desires! It is no wonder God loathes you!’’
Beneath the roar of the waterfalls, Caridad did not hear the two horses coming down the trail. She’d taken her time washing and pulling back her hair. Now, rather than dress wet, she stretched out on a flat rock to allow the warm sun to dry her.
From a foliage-covered ledge, Sabio saw the two horsemen step down from their horses and lead the animals into a stand of trees. He watched as they slipped quietly on foot toward the unsuspecting woman. ‘‘Oh God, no! My poor, sweet Caridad!’’ he whispered to himself, cupping his palm over his mouth. He scrambled sidelong on the thin ledge, hugging tightly against the jagged rock wall to keep from plunging to his death.
‘‘Koch, circle around in case she sees us and tries to bolt away!’’ Sonny said as the two of them crouched, moving closer.
‘‘You’ve got it, Sonny,’’ Koch whispered with a grin, easing away from him. ‘‘This is more fun than cornering a young deer.’’
But as he crept away, he tripped, fell forward and landed with a grunt. His gun slipped from his holster and clanged across the sloping rock.
Startled, and seeing the gun slide past her into the water, Caridad sprang to her feet and grabbed the dress that lay beside her. She raced away a few feet before stopping and turning to see the two men, Sonny still crouched and ready to spring toward her, Koch struggling back to his feet and rubbing his sore chin. ‘‘Damn it to hell!’’ Koch cursed, seeing his gun go into the water.
‘‘Easy, now, little lady!’’ Sonny said, keeping his voice level, hoping to calm her. ‘‘We’re not going to hurt you. No sir-ree! Not at all. We just come down to make friends, is all. Sort of get to know one another. Do you understand me? Hablo englo— Ah, hell,’’ he cursed. ‘‘Koch, help me out here. Talk Spanish to her.’’
‘‘Uh—señorita.’’ Koch stalled. He’d started to circle wide of her again, but Caridad sidestepped along the water’s edge, ready to plunge in and swim if she had to. ‘‘We, that is him and me here—nosotros dos,’’ he said, pointing back and forth between Sonny and himself. ‘‘Us two—would like to sit down with you and visit for a spell—’’ He chuckled darkly, then said, ‘‘Hell, you don’t even have to dress on our account.’’
But Caridad saw their intentions and she sidestepped farther away. ‘‘Por favor! I do not do that. I have never done that! Please do not make me do that!’’ She stopped moving sideways as if to make a stand for herself.
‘‘She’s not going to run. Are you, buttercup?’’ Koch’s tight grin widened. He saw no more need for pretense. ‘‘Now that’s real good!’’ He glanced at Sonny, then said to her, ‘‘Well, now, if it’s true you’ve never done that, I’ll give you some mixed thoughts—both good and bad—about a young woman waiting too long before she opens that all-important door into full womanhood!’’ As he spoke he hurriedly snatched off his shirt.
‘‘Me first, Koch!’’ Sonny called out.
But Koch didn’t reply. He’d raised a foot in order to take his boot off when an explosion ripped above the sound of falling water. Sonny ducked, his hand going for his Colt. Koch let out a cry and clutched the side of his face. Caridad screamed as the upper half of Koch’s left ear fell at her bare feet from fifteen feet away.
‘‘Drop your guns, both of you!’’ Sabio shouted, standing above them at a spot near their horses. The rifle shot had come as a surprise to him and it caused his hands to tremble. But he was certain the two men could not tell he was frightened. His knobby knees quivered inside his tattered robe. Yet he stood with a look of complete confidence on his face. ‘‘Do not test me! Drop them now!’’
Koch stood groaning, blood running down from his cupped hand. ‘‘My damn ear!’’
‘‘Hey now, take it easy, Padre.’’ Sonny’s hand was on his gun butt, but he was not sure if he should make a move or not after seeing what the monk had done to Koch. ‘‘We wasn’t going to hurt her. You saw yourself she wasn’t going to run. She might have been waiting for some warm-blooded man to—’’
‘‘Lift the pistol slowly and let it fall!’’ Sabio demanded, cutting him off. ‘‘Do not make me say it again.’’
‘‘But you’re a clergy, a priest or whatnot,’’ said Sonny, his hand still poised. ‘‘You can’t kill a man! Who are you trying to buffalo?’’ He grinned and winked as if he’d caught on to Sabio’s bluff.
Sabio wasn’t sure what to do next, but he raised the rifle to his shoulder and said calmly, ‘‘It is true I will not kill you. But I am a crack shot, as you have seen. I will leave enough pieces of you on the ground that you will wish I did kill you.’’
‘‘We’ll take our chances,’’ said Sonny. Keeping his hand on his gun butt he said to Koch, ‘‘Can you get to your gun as soon as I start shooting?’’
‘‘Not without both of his feet, he can’t,’’ Sabio said coolly. He turned the Winchester toward Koch.
‘‘Hey, Sonny, wait!’’ said Koch, his hand still clamped to his ear. ‘‘That’s my new Winchester he’s holding. That thing damn near aims and shoots itself.’’
‘‘So?’’ said Sonny, crouched, poised and ready to draw and throw down.
‘‘So! You saw him shoot! I’ve already lost a damn ear! I can’t lose another one, or a foot, or any important part for that matter!’’
Sonny thought about it for a moment. Finally he eased his hand up away from his gun butt and said, ‘‘Old man, you’ve got a good day going for you today. I expect you’re saving her for yourself.’’ Then he raised his Colt and dropped it onto the stones beneath his feet.
Sabio reddened, his nostrils flared and his knuckles whitened. He felt himself start to pull the trigger. Yet, having no idea where his shot would go, he swallowed his boiling anger. ‘‘Walk away from it,’’ he demanded, telling himself to stay calm, that he had everything going his way. ‘‘You,’’ he said to Koch, ‘‘raise your other hand and move over beside him. Get away from her.’’
Koch raised his free hand and stepped over beside Sonny. ‘‘You’ve shot my damned ear off. My gun’s in the water. What do you want from me?’’
‘‘Both of you stand very still,’’ Sabio warned them. To Caridad he motioned a hand and said, ‘‘Come quickly, dear child. Don’t be afraid of these men.’’ He saw her start to hurry toward him with her dress hugged tightly against her breasts. ‘‘Please, put on your dress,’’ he told her. Swinging the Winchester back and forth between the two men, who still stared hungrily in spite of the r
ifle pointed at them, he growled menacingly, ‘‘Look away from her, you swine!’’
When Caridad had wiggled into her dress and run to him, Sabio kept the rifle aimed at the two men and directed her toward the two horses. ‘‘If you try to pick up your gun, I will see you do it, and I will shoot off your fingers.’’
‘‘You can’t take our horse, Padre!’’ said Sonny. ‘‘A man could die out here afoot!’’
‘‘It is twenty miles to Esperanza. I believe you know your way there. You will find water like this along the way if you stay on the hill trails. Avoid any bands of blanket Apache, and you will be all right.’’
‘‘Prew only sent us to find the kid, Padre,’’ Sonny called aloud as Sabio and Caridad disappeared out of sight toward the horses. ‘‘Stop this now, and we’ll let you both live. Take our horses and we’re bound to come kill you! Do you hear me?’’
But Sabio didn’t answer. Inside the trees, Caridad looked at him in amazement and said, ‘‘I never knew you were a crack shot!’’
Sabio, stunned by having shot a man’s ear off, could think of no other explanation than to look at the rifle and say, ‘‘As with all things, it is God working through my hands.’’
Near the water, the two gunmen waited for a second, and when no answer came, Sonny took a cautious step toward his gun lying on the ground. But before he got to it, a rifle shot exploded and Sabio called out from within the trees, ‘‘Uh-uh-uh. Stay where you are! I will not warn you again!’’
‘‘All right, damn it!’’ said Sonny, having jerked to a halt at the sound of the rifle, which Sabio had only fired straight up into the air.
‘‘Hurry, Caridad!’’ Sabio said, giving a boost on her warm bottom to shove her up into the saddle. Even with their lives in peril the feel of her sent a hot rush of desire throughout him. He closed his eyes tight for a second as if attempting to drive away the image of her.
‘‘I’m ready!’’ said Caridad, in the saddle, her peasant dress hiked above her knees. Sabio tore his eyes away from the smooth brown flesh and climbed atop the other horse, holding tightly to the rifle.
The two horses came charging out of the trees at a run and in no more than three seconds had disappeared again. ‘‘Damn it!’’ shouted Sonny Nix. He’d made a fast dive for his gun, but when he grabbed it and turned toward the two it was too late. He stood crouched, listening to the receding sound of pounding hooves.
‘‘What the hell do we do now?’’ Koch asked, wincing in pain, his hand still clamped to the bloody side of his head. ‘‘They’ve got our horses! My rifle!’’
‘‘Like he said, we walk,’’ Sonny replied.
‘‘Walk? Look at me—I’m bleeding!’’
But Sonny only stared at the rise of dust the horses had left above the trail and said bitterly, ‘‘Damned if I’m going back and telling Prew we got outgunned and buffaloed by some ragged-assed priest and his naked girlfriend. Nobody’s going to know what happened out here, you understand?’’
‘‘Yes! But I can’t walk to Esperanza!’’ Koch insisted.
‘‘We’re not going to Esperanza,’’ said Sonny. ‘‘We’re going back to the old mission we tracked them to the other day.’’
‘‘Why? They’re not there!’’ Koch snapped.
‘‘Go wash your face and attend to yourself,’’ said Sonny. From his tone of voice, all room for discussion was gone. ‘‘They’ll be gone for a while, just to shake us off their tails. But I’ve got a feeling that little skin-headed sonsabitch lives in the old mission. They’ll be coming back. When they do we’ll be waiting. We’ll kill them both.’’
Koch turned and walked to the edge of the water, untying a bandanna from around his neck. ‘‘In that case, I still want some of that girl—even more now that she cost me an ear.’’
Sonny looked at him in disgust and shook his head.
Twenty minutes later, when Koch walked up from the water, he’d tucked his hat down on one side to keep the wet bandanna pressed against his clipped ear. A large bloodstain ran from his shoulder to his waist. Water dripped from the holster housing his gun, which he’d fished from the stream. ‘‘I expect I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,’’ he said.
‘‘Jesus,’’ Sonny said, looking him up and down.
But before he could comment any further, a voice called out, ‘‘Hello the water.’’
The two turned quickly and saw a tall figure seated atop a large silver-gray, leading a strong dun behind him, loaded with supplies. ‘‘Well, I’ll be damned, pard,’’ Sonny said quietly to Koch. ‘‘Looks like our string ain’t nearly run out yet.’’ He took a step forward and added under his breath, ‘‘Let’s kill him.’’
Wait. That’s Dan Carlson,’’ Koch whispered in reply. ‘‘He’s one of the men who’s supposed to join us in Esperanza. We can’t foul-play him! He’s Cherokee Jake’s cousin!’’
‘‘He used to be,’’ said Sonny, smiling at the horseman as he walked toward him. ‘‘Or would you rather ole Wind River Dan here ride in telling Prew what happened to us?’’
In a loud voice, Sonny called out, ‘‘Wind River Dan. How the hell are you?’’
‘‘I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir,’’ the big man in the flat-brimmed plainsman’s hat said, his hand resting on the butt of a large Colt on his hip. He squinted as the men walked closer, trying to recognize the two.
‘‘I’m Sonny Nix, and this is Robert Koch,’’ Sonny said casually. ‘‘We’ve been waiting for you up in Esperanza. I hope you’re ready to make yourself rich!’’
Carlson relaxed and gave a thin smile. ‘‘I’m ready to do my part—help out any way I can.’’
‘‘Good,’’ said Sonny, drawing his Colt as he continued walking. He shot Carlson twice in the chest. ‘‘ ‘Cause we could sure use some horses.’’ He grabbed the silver-gray by its bridle as Carlson pitched over into the dirt. ‘‘Easy, boy,’’ he said to the big horse. ‘‘You didn’t lose nothing.’’
Carlson lay gasping for breath, one foot still in his stirrup. Blood ran down from his trembling lips and his eyes bulged. ‘‘I expect it’s a sonsabitch, dying all of a sudden like this,’’ Sonny said down to him. ‘‘You just got here at the wrong time.’’ He shot him again, watched him slump into death, then kicked his foot out of the stirrup.
‘‘What are we going to tell Cherokee?’’ Koch asked, trotting forward and taking the reins to the supply horse.
Sonny gave him a sharp stare. ‘‘I just solved one problem for us. Are you already thinking us up another one?’’
Chapter 10
The ranger had spent the night beneath a cliff overhang overlooking his back trail that lay hidden in a stretch of thick green forest. At early light he’d sat watching the treetops expectantly. Three hundred yards out he’d watched a flurry of birds rise up and scatter on the silvery morning mist. Moments later the scene repeated itself a hundred yards closer. He waited and watched. Then it came again, closer yet.
Yep, he told himself, somebody’s back there. They’d begun trailing him the day before, no sooner than he’d reached the base of the first hill line. That was when he’d first sensed someone behind him. Was it William Jefferies? Yes, more than likely, he thought, easing back from the edge. He rubbed out the small fire and lifted his tin cup for the last sip of hot coffee.
Whoever was coming back there should have started an hour earlier, before daybreak, or else an hour later, in full morning light. The birds would have been less skittish then. Sam swung his saddle and blanket up onto the big Appaloosa’s back. He picked his rifle up from against a rock and shoved it down into the saddle boot.
‘‘Well, Black Pot,’’ he said quietly to the well-rested stallion, ‘‘let’s go find ourselves a good spot and wait them out.’’ Before mounting he took another look down, this time catching a broken glimpse of a horse and its rider as they moved through a thinner stretch of trees. Seeing only the top of the rider’s hat, he recognized neither man nor animal as they vee
red off the trail and to the left, toward a steeper path winding up, circling around the hillside.
Could he have been wrong about the rider following him? Maybe, but he didn’t think so, not just yet. It could be that whoever was down there wanted to get above him. If that was the case he’d find out at the top of the trail. Was he wrong about it being Jefferies down there? ‘‘We’ll just have to wait and see,’’ he said to Black Pot.
On the steep path circling the hillside, Jefferies looked down at the trail behind him and chastised himself under his breath. Had the ranger seen the birds he’d spooked from their tree branches? He didn’t know. Odds were, the ranger hadn’t seen them. But whether he’d seen them or not, it was too late to worry about it now. Once he topped the hill he’d be ahead of the ranger. So no matter if Sam watched his back trail or not, Jefferies told himself, he wouldn’t be back there.
He rode carefully until midmorning. Then he left his paint horse among a bed of sunken boulders and climbed down onto the trail the ranger had taken. Seeing no fresh tracks, he breathed in relief, climbed back up and led his horse out of sight, rifle in hand.
All right, this was how he would do it all the way to Esperanza, he told himself.
He would stay with the ranger by keeping in front of him from one turnoff along the trail to the next. He smiled to himself. Come on, Ranger, let’s see you figure this one out. Taking his arm out of the sling, he eased down and stretched out prone behind half of an up-stuck boulder, his rifle lying alongside him. He pulled the field lens open, raised it to his eye and adjusted it to the trail below. Now, the wait.
But he didn’t have to wait long. Before twenty minutes had passed, he saw a thin drift of dust rise up from back along the trail. Here he comes. He watched even closer until he heard the first quiet drop of hooves and saw Sam’s Appaloosa walk into view. But wait!
‘‘Oh no!’’ he said, seeing the empty saddle and instinctively throwing a hand over on his rifle, knowing full well that he’d made his move in vain. He froze as he felt the tip of Sam’s Colt center on the back of his neck. At the same time, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his rifle seem to crawl backward until it disappeared from view.
