by Paul Green
‘You were right about one thing, Mr Harrison,’ murmured Kinsella as he watched them go. ‘The Comanche keep their word. They didn’t attack us because you got them to agree not to. That’s more than can be said for our politicians, who don’t stick to the agreements they make with these people. I’m beginning to realize that’s half the trouble, and coming down hard on them won’t solve it.’
Harrison smiled. It was the nearest thing to an apology he was going to get.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They salvaged what supplies they needed from the broken wagon, using two of the horses as pack animals. Murray’s hands were bound to the saddle of the horse he rode, which Johnson tethered to his own mount. Maggie and Harrison each took charge of a packhorse while Kinsella led the way in front.
‘How much further is it to Fort Concho?’ asked Maggie as they set off once more.
‘We lost our way a bit in that sandstorm. By my reckoning we should arrive tomorrow at about noon,’ Kinsella told her.
She shuddered then and stole a glance at their prisoner.
Murray noticed and grinned, despite his predicament. ‘Don’t you worry about me, my pretty one. I’ll treat you real nice if you just untie my hands.’
‘Just you shut that mouth o’ yours or I swear I’ll put an end to your miserable life right here and now,’ Johnson warned him.
‘Take it easy, Sergeant,’ Kinsella said gently. ‘This man is our prisoner. He surrendered and we have a duty to deliver him to the proper authorities. He’s only to be shot if he attacks us or tries to escape.’
‘Lucky for you Captain Kinsella here’s a gentleman, but if you wanna try anythin’, go right ahead. I’ll be ready.’ Johnson held up his revolver to show that he meant business.
Murray did not respond but his narrow eyes flitted from one to the other, as if weighing them all up. Harrison sensed that the man was waiting for an opportunity to start something and resolved to keep a close eye on him until they reached their destination. After all, the renegade sergeant was virtually a condemned man and as such he had nothing to lose. The landscape was changing as they drew nearer to the mouth of the River Concho. It was less arid now with more trees and shrubs and a few wooded slopes. Kinsella held up his hand to draw them to a halt as they arrived at a creek.
‘None of us ate this morning. We’ll stop here and rest awhile.’
Harrison lit a fire, made coffee and cooked some beans while Maggie tended to the horses. Johnson untied Murray’s hands to allow him to dismount, then stood well back, covering him with a revolver as their prisoner climbed from his horse. ‘Now, turn around, put your hands behind your head and kneel down.’
There was a brief hesitation on Murray’s part before the sergeant gestured with his weapon. ‘C’mon man, just do it.’
Harrison left his cooking and came over to help Johnson by covering him with his gun. The sergeant then approached their prisoner and tied his hands tightly behind his back. Then he pushed him face down in the dirt and bound his feet with the other end of the rope.
‘God damn it, how am I supposed to eat like this?’ demanded Murray sourly as he struggled to get into a sitting position against a nearby boulder. There was just enough slack in the rope to allow him this much movement, but no more.
‘Nobody said you was gonna eat. A man on an empty stomach ain’t got no energy to fight so I figure you can wait until we get you locked up safe and sound,’ Johnson told him.
‘We can’t let a man starve, no matter what he’s done,’ remarked Maggie as she brought over a plate of beans. Then, kneeling in front of him, she fed Murray with a spoon. The sergeant shook his head but said nothing, while their captive tried to engage his benefactor in conversation.
‘Where are you from, lady?’ he asked her.
‘Don’t talk, just eat,’ she told him, her tone cold.
‘Aw, c’mon now. Can’t you just be a little friendly?’
Harrison cut in. ‘That’s enough. You can see the lady doesn’t want to talk to you so just be quiet.’
‘Are you her pa or somethin’?’ sneered Murray.
Harrison went and stood over him. ‘It’s still a long way to Fort Concho. I suggest you don’t try our patience too much.’
Maggie shovelled the last of the beans into his mouth as Murray wordlessly eyed the pearl-handled revolvers Harrison had in each holster. Then, after a brief rest, they were ready to get going again. Johnson cut the rope binding Murray’s feet and led him over to his horse. Once he had hauled himself back into the saddle at gunpoint he was tied to the animal and ready to be led away. Then a folded sheet of paper fell out from inside Murray’s tunic. Johnson picked it up. He gasped as he read its contents.
‘Hey, listen up! It says here that Dan Murray is wanted for tryin’ to rob a bank in Colorado and killin’ three folks, one of ’em a little girl!’ He looked up at their captive.
‘I didn’t mean to kill that kid, it was an accident,’ muttered Murray in response.
Harrison and Kinsella came over to look at the poster. ‘It doesn’t say anything about you being in the army,’ the officer remarked.
Murray shrugged. ‘We figured army uniforms were a good disguise. So what?’
Kinsella looked at him with distaste. ‘It means we’ll have to hand you over to the civilian authorities, especially in view of this other crime. You’ll still be charged with murdering my men but if a US marshal turns up with a warrant, you could be sent to Colorado to hang.’
‘I guess we’ll have to take him to the county jail in Benficklin,’ said Harrison.
Murray grinned. ‘That’s just fine by me. I’ve busted outta jails before.’
They all ignored him, their horses splashing across the creek as they continued on their way.
‘There sure is a lotta money in those bags,’ remarked Murray as Harrison rode past him. The outlaw then spoke more quietly as he leaned towards him. ‘I could use some help from a man who’s handy with a gun.’
Harrison shook his head. ‘The only help you’ll get is up the steps to the gallows.’
‘What’s wrong with you? You’re a civilian, same as me, so why should you care about some dumb payroll? If we take care o’ these folks it’s a straight split down the middle.’
‘You’re wrong, Murray. I may not be a soldier but I’m nothing like you and I never will be.’
As Harrison rode on Johnson asked, ‘What did he want with you?’
‘What everyone wants: that damned money.’
Johnson patted his holster. ‘If he makes a move I’ll be ready.’
Behind them Murray rubbed the knot on the rope binding his hands against the pommel of his saddle. He had managed to loosen it slightly but not nearly enough. It was a pity that Harrison was too foolish to take advantage of a good opportunity when it presented itself, but he still hoped for a chance to get away before they reached Benficklin.
They rode on through the heat of the day until Kinsella called them to a halt once more and suggested that they rest for an hour to rest the horses.
Maggie shuddered as Harrison sat down beside her. ‘That Murray makes my skin crawl. I wish we didn’t have to drag him along with us.’
He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s not for long, we’ll be there tomorrow. Then we can hand the money over and get Murray safely locked up.’
The subject of their conversation was watching them with interest. If the opportunity arose, the woman would make a suitable hostage. The knife Murray always kept inside his left boot was still there but so far there had been no way of getting to it without being shot. He would have to bide his time, time that was running out with every mile they rode.
Johnson prodded their prisoner with his boot. ‘Time to get movin’, so c’mon.’
At that moment, Kinsella approached them. ‘It’s all right, Sergeant, I’ll guard him for a while. You know this terrain pretty well so why don’t you ride up in front?’
Johnson beamed back at him. ‘Thank yo
u very much, sir. I don’t mind if I do.’
Murray scowled as Kinsella adjusted his bonds but then an idea occurred to him.
‘I have to answer a call o’ nature, sir. I could use that clump o’ trees over there.’
‘Oh, all right man, but hurry up about it,’ said Kinsella as he hauled him to his feet.
They reached the trees and Murray adjusted his clothing. Kinsella stood close, his gun at the other man’s ribs.
‘I can’t do it with you watchin’ me like that,’ grumbled the outlaw. Kinsella sighed but turned aside slightly which just allowed his prisoner time to bend down and retrieve his knife. He moved swiftly and the blade plunged into the officer’s heart, while his killer caught the gun as it fell from Kinsella’s numbed fingers. He dragged the body further into the trees and then peered through the foliage. They were all busy with their horses but Maggie was standing on the edge of the group, slightly nearer to him. He moved swiftly, wasting no time.
Maggie was just tightening the girth strap on her horse when a knife was pressed against her throat. Murray’s right arm was around her waist and she could see that he was holding a gun.
‘Don’t scream,’ he whispered. ‘Just do like I say and you won’t get hurt.’ He moved her around so that he was now standing nearer to her horse, with her body shielding his.
‘Look what I’ve got!’ he called to the others. They both turned to face him and he grinned at their horrified expressions. ‘Take off your gunbelts and toss ’em towards me.’
‘Where’s Captain Kinsella?’ demanded Johnson.
‘He’s dead, so do as I say or she’ll get the same. Remember, I’ve got nothin’ to lose.’
‘We’d better go along with him for now,’ whispered Harrison as he slowly unbuckled his gunbelt and threw it across. Johnson did the same with an obvious show of reluctance and their weapons landed just a few feet away from Murray.
With his left hand he still held a knife at Maggie’s throat while pointing a gun at them with his right. ‘Now, get down on your knees and put your hands behind your heads.’
‘You won’t get far, I promise you that,’ said Harrison as he knelt down.
‘Well, you sure as hell won’t be followin’ me,’ jeered his adversary. Then, flinging his captive to one side, he stepped forward and cocked his gun. ‘So long, fellas,’ he said as he took aim.
Maggie felt the rock in her hand as she stumbled to her feet. Murray did not hear her behind him as he began to squeeze the trigger and his shot misfired harmlessly as a solid lump of sandstone crashed into the back of his head. He stumbled forward with a groan before falling to his knees. In vain he tried to raise himself and aim his weapon once more, then he keeled over on to his side and lay still.
‘Is he dead?’ Maggie asked as Harrison removed the gun from Murray’s inert fingers.
‘No, you just knocked him out. He’ll wake up in a few hours with an almighty headache.’ He looked up at her. ‘You saved our lives just now. Thanks.’
‘Yeah,’ added Johnson, ‘I thought our time was up for sure.’ He picked up the unconscious Murray and flung him across his shoulders before putting him across a horse with feet and hands bound securely to the stirrups.
They buried Kinsella in a shallow grave while Maggie read the Twenty-Third Psalm. Their journey continued in silence, the officer’s death having cast a pall of gloom over their journey. It grew dark after two hours and they stopped for the night. Harrison pulled Murray down from his horse and bound him securely to a nearby tree. ‘You make one move tonight and you’re dead, understand?’ he told him firmly.
The outlaw nodded in reply. He knew there was no chance of escape now and he still felt weak after being hit over the head with that rock. This time he said nothing when Maggie fed him and wisely drifted off to sleep rather than taunting his captors as he usually did.
‘It looks like Murray’s got the message,’ remarked Johnson as he finished his beans.
They took turns guarding him nonetheless. A man desperate to cheat the noose could be capable of anything, as the outlaw had already proved. Harrison had the last watch and sat contentedly as an orange sunrise filtered through the morning mist. Today they would at last reach their destination, hand over the stolen money, and he and Maggie could get on with the rest of their lives. These pleasant thoughts were interrupted as Murray awoke and stretched his bound limbs as best he could.
‘What are you lookin’ so pleased about?’ he asked sourly.
‘The thought of you at the end of a rope,’ replied Harrison cheerfully.
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’
‘Well, you’ll be behind bars by this afternoon and if you try anything before then I won’t hesitate to shoot. Just remember that.’
The others were stirring now and Harrison went to a nearby stream where he washed himself as best he could. He perched on the bank to shave and then dressed hurriedly.
‘How about some breakfast?’ Johnson asked upon his return. ‘I’m afraid it’s just beans and coffee again, that’s all we’ve left.’
‘I don’t mind, it’s better than having to starve.’
They made sure Murray was bound securely on his horse before they left. The mist soon cleared and it was another hot, bright day in West Texas. They made steady progress throughout the morning and were just a few miles from their destination when Johnson drew to a halt and dismounted.
‘What’s the matter?’ Harrison asked him.
‘My horse limps a little. I reckon there’s a problem with the shoe on his left foreleg but there’s a good blacksmith in San Angela. It’s best if we stop by there on the way.’
They passed through some farmland before reaching San Angela, a bustling frontier town packed with saloons, gambling dens and hotels which were little more than brothels. The main street was a dirt road, crowded with off-duty soldiers, hucksters, tradesmen and young women in gaudy outfits. No one paid them any attention as they went their way, it being a place where strangers came and went quite frequently. At last they halted outside a forge where a stocky middle-aged man in a leather apron was busily welding the two ends of a broken stirrup back together. Johnson approached him just as he finished the job.
‘My horse has a problem with one o’ his shoes, mister. It don’t seem to fit right.’
‘Let me take a look.’ The man examined the shoe carefully. ‘Yeah, I can fix that.’
As the blacksmith got on with his work a slim, moustachioed figure in a white apron emerged from the saloon across the street and came over towards them.
‘Good afternoon, señora,’ he said to Maggie with a bow ‘and to you too, señores. I am Victor Esterhaz and I own the saloon across the street.’ He gestured towards Murray, still bound to his horse. ‘I could not help noticing that you are guarding a prisoner. I wondered whether you would like me to bring you over some beers, on the house of course, as I am so pleased to see criminals being apprehended at last in this lawless place.’
Johnson beamed in response. ‘Well that’s mighty decent of you.’
Esterhaz bowed again before asking what their prisoner had done, gasping with disapproval as Johnson recounted the outlaw’s crimes.
Esterhaz shook his head and looked at Murray with disgust before hastily crossing himself. ‘I have never heard such a tale of evil. You’d better start praying for your soul; no beer for you!’ Then he turned to Maggie. ‘And for you, señora?’
‘A glass of cold water will be just fine, thank you.’
Esterhaz bowed again and hurried back across the street to his saloon. Harrison wondered why the Mexican was so friendly and interested in what they were doing. No doubt they would find out soon enough.
Jorge and Pablo were still at the bar when Esterhaz returned with his information. ‘The one tied up tried to steal the money. The other soldiers are dead, apart from Johnson.’
‘Where’s the money now?’ asked Jorge.
‘They’ve got some bags on those packhorses, so it’s p
robably in those.’
Pablo gazed longingly through the window. ‘It’s so near; if only we could just take it.’
Esterhaz shook his head. ‘What? Start a gunfight in broad daylight out there in the street? We’d have soldiers from the fort down on us in no time. No, I’ll take these drinks across and see what else I can find out.’
They drained their beers quickly but Esterhaz stayed to engage them in conversation.
‘What are you going to do with him?’ he asked Johnson, looking at their prisoner.
‘Murray’s goin’ to the county jail in Benficklin. He’s a civilian and wanted for other crimes, so I guess it’ll be up to a judge to decide whether the army deals with him or not.’
By now the blacksmith had finished his work; Johnson paid him and they were ready to leave. Harrison climbed wearily back on to his horse and Esterhaz approached him, smiling.
‘If you need somewhere to stay, señor, I have rooms free for you and the señora.’
‘Thank you, but we already have rooms in Benficklin.’
‘Why did you tell him we already had rooms,’ Maggie asked as they rode away.
‘I don’t know. There was just something about him I can’t quite trust. He had that hungry look in his eyes, a look I’ve seen too many times on this trip.’
Maggie shuddered. ‘I hope you’re just imagining things. I thought once we got this far we could leave all that behind us.’
Johnson led them through the town in a westerly direction, past a bakery, a carriage shop and a saloon called The Grey Mule. He stopped at this point as a soldier was hurled through the swing back doors and lay sprawled in the dirt in front of them. The sergeant shook his head as he skilfully guided his horse around the prone figure.
‘That there soldier’s known as Dead Ellis cos once he drank so much we all thought he was dead. We put him in the hospital and laid him out in a coffin and suddenly he started twitchin’. We been callin’ him Dead Ellis ever since. The man got a terrible fright but he ain’t never gonna quit drinkin’.’
They turned then on to Chadbourne Street, past a livery stables and up a hill where they could see Fort Concho and the river below them. They rode down the other side, through grasses that reached up to their stirrups, turned alongside the river and through the entrance past rows of limestone buildings with pecan wood rafters. The fort was a hive of activity and Johnson pointed out the barracks for enlisted men, a commissary, hospital and chapel. He called over the sentry as they reached the officers’ quarters and they were quickly shown into Colonel Grierson’s office, with a military escort to guard Murray and carry the money.
