by JR Roberts
Hall’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve got a point there.”
“Plus, it’s not very likely that we could just ride away from this mess,” Clint said. “Not without having to fight our way out of at least one or two ambushes along the way. Murderers tend to be awfully vengeful.”
“Eh, save the sales pitch,” Hall grunted. “I was sold when you mentioned the healthy sum of reward money.”
Chapter Forty-Two
The main campfire was slowly dying, which allowed more shadows to creep in on all sides. As he approached the rock where Clint was sitting, the Chinese gunman held his rifle in a loose grip.
“Shut your mouth,” the gunman said. “If you have something to say, wait until morning.”
At that moment, Hall lifted his Remington and fired a shot that caught the Chinese outlaw in the chest. The gunman staggered backward, only to be knocked down by a second bullet that drilled a hole within an inch of the first.
“I don’t think he saw you,” Clint said as he got to his feet and rushed forward to search the Chinese man’s body.
Hall replaced the spent rounds in his pistol. “There’s nothing like starting off on the right foot. If you want to argue about it, I suggest, you wait. This evening’s festivities are just beginning.”
The rifle that the Chinese man had been carrying was a Winchester. As soon as Clint picked it up, he checked to make sure it was loaded and put it to work. At least three gunmen from the sputtering campfire were responding to the shots that had been fired. The rest of the camp had been stirred up as well but not all of the outlaws were about to charge into the fight head-on.
Clint sighted along the top of the Winchester, waiting for a target to present itself. He didn’t have to wait long before one of the outlaws running toward him opened fire with a pistol. Lead burned through the air above Clint’s head which did nothing to rattle the man behind the Winchester. Clint let out a slow breath, squeezed the rifle’s trigger and put a round through the gunman’s heart.
After levering in a fresh round, Clint took aim at the next closest man who was already shooting at him and Hall. The Winchester spat another plume of sparks to send the outlaw with the gnarled face and long hair to an early grave.
“We’ve got some men circling around on us,” Hall warned.
“Circling to which side?” Clint asked.
After firing a few quick shots to send a pair of men running for cover, Hall said, “Take your pick.”
“We’re dead if we stay here with only a rock and some bushes to hide behind.”
“What else would you suggest?”
“There’s only one other option.” With that, Clint held the Winchester in one hand and drew the Smith & Wesson he’d been given with the other. Setting his sights on the largest group of outlaws, Clint marched forward and started shooting.
There weren’t many things that could catch Jarred Hall off guard anymore but that was one of them. He quickly set aside any reservations he might have had and drew a little .38 he kept in an ankle holster. “And here I thought he was the smart one,” the bounty hunter said. Shrugging, he added, “Guess it don’t make much difference at this point.” He then let out a wild yell that would make a Comanche proud and commenced firing with both hands.
Even without the bounty hunter to back his play, Clint would have done a fair amount of damage. Two of the remaining outlaws were in his sights, having been caught trying to sneak up on Clint’s right. They started firing as soon as they saw him point the Winchester in their direction, but their shots were hurried and flew wide of their target. Clint took his time and did the job right, knocking both men to the dirt as easy as blasting tin cans from a fence post.
Hall found the other pair of men who’d attempted to get around on the other side of them. After a shout bout of shooting stopped, Clint called out, “You still breathing?”
“Yeah,” the bounty hunter replied.
“Need any help?”
“Just a moment.” After a few seconds, another shot cracked through the air and Hall said, “Nah. I’m good.”
There was a lot less movement near the campfires. The one that was still flickering showed Clint nothing but the horses that had been tethered to some thick roots. Eclipse was among them and appeared to be unharmed, so he turned his attention elsewhere. Although the second campfire had been doused some time ago, there were more than just shadows creeping amid the smoke that hung in the air.
“Farraday!” Clint shouted. “This madness ends right here and now. Show yourself while there’s still time to get out of here with your life.”
After a few seconds, a voice behind Clint said, “Did you really expect that to work?”
“Not really,” Clint said to Hall. “But it was worth a try.”
“I’ve got a better idea.”
“Then by all means, I’d like to hear it.”
“We’re placing the lot of you under arrest!” Hall announced. “And if you don’t toss your weapons down, we’ll know that this whole revolution of yours ain’t nothing but a bunch of idiotic talk from a group of bloodthirsty animals.”
“What do you know about revolution?” hollered the man Clint had known as Sven. He stepped out from behind the cart holding a pistol in each hand.
“I’ll be damned,” Clint whispered. “That did work.”
“I get hunches too, you know,” Hall said.
Chapter Forty-Three
With every step he took, the lanky figure who’d been hiding behind the cart walked taller. “Do you know who I am?” he shouted. “I’m Martin Farraday!”
“Never heard of you,” Hall replied. “Not unless you count the times I heard a name mentioned in passing.”
“Don’t worry if you don’t recognize it right away,” Clint said. “Men like him want nothing more than to be legends and it’s always easier to just act like you’re already one instead of doing anything to earn it.”
“I’ve earned plenty,” Farraday said.
Clint stepped forward as well, gauging the distance between him and any potential targets. As far as she could tell, there was only Farraday and one other man who was on one knee peeking around the cart. That one had a rifle propped against his shoulder but had yet to fire a shot. Even from a distance, Clint could tell that man was rattled all the way down to his core.
“What have you done that’s so great?” Clint asked. “Slaughtered a bunch of innocents? Hung some outlaws from a few trees? If that’s all it took, then every lynch mob in the country would have already staked a claim to fame.”
Hall chimed in by saying, “I never thought of it that way. This whole gang is just one big lynch mob. They might talk a lot louder but that about sums it up.”
Seeing how every word was burrowing under Farraday’s skin, Clint kept the ball rolling. “Oh but let’s not forget the horses. They’re real good at stealing horses too.”
“There was more to it than that and you know it!” Farraday snarled.
“Actually I don’t. I would never have heard of you if one of your men hadn’t taken my horse in the dead of night like the damn coward he is.”
This time, Clint’s words hit another target than Farraday. He was grateful for that because Howlett emerged from a shadow less than twenty yards away from him, Clint hadn’t even known he was there.
“Only reason you woke up at all instead of getting your damn throat cut,” Howlett said, “was because I was only getting paid for yer horse.”
“You’re too shortsighted to see the whole picture,” Farraday said. “Claiming bounties on horse thieves is easier money than pulling gold out of a river or carrying it out of a bank. Those men come to me with those horses and I’ve got plenty of places to sell the animals for a tidy profit. If I don’t have a use for those men in my cause, I hand them over for an even bigger profit so they can be disposed of by the authorities. If I want to spread my word to the people in this state or others, I hang them from one of my trees. And on the rare occasion that someone
brings a truly magnificent animal to me, I can keep them in my personal stable where they can be used by my men.”
“Sounds like a pretty good system,” Hall said. “Except for one part.”
“Which part is that?”
“This moment right here,” Clint said.
Hall nodded and grinned. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Howlett shook his head. “This moment doesn’t mean a damn thing. We’ll kill you, ride into another county and gather up another bunch of men looking to join up with us. By now, all we gotta do is show our faces in a saloon or two before we get volunteers wanting to ride with us.”
“Normally, I prefer to give a man a chance to do the right thing,” Clint said. “But I can tell you’re not the sort who would just throw down his guns and come peacefully.”
“He’s a horse thief, Adams,” Hall said. “Most likely, he’s afraid of most men and women. That’s why he can only feel like a bad man around an animal.”
Howlett made a guttural sound that came from the back of his throat and exploded from him with fiery rage. Not only did he raise his pistol to fire a shot at Clint, but he charged forward like a bull. Clint reflexively took a shot at him, aiming his gun as if he was pointing his finger. His round caught Howlett in the upper torso but it was impossible to see exactly where because he was still charging.
Clint fired again, missing this time with the unfamiliar gun, since Howlett had shifted to a lower stance and pushed off with both legs to throw himself at him. He may have been shorter than Clint but Howlett’s frame was thick with muscle. When he made contact, his bulk was enough to bring Clint down. Howlett landed on top of him and any help that might have been forthcoming from Hall would have to wait, since the bounty hunter was trading shots with at least one other man.
Every one of Clint’s muscles tensed against an onslaught of blows including heavy punches, wild kicks, and even a few head butts. Instead of trying to beat the wild man at his own game, Clint focused on two simple tasks. He kept his head down and brought one knee up toward his chest.
Howlett snarled like an animal, pausing only to draw a breath and pull a knife from a sheath hanging from his belt. Clint had no doubt the smaller man was a true craftsman with that blade. By the time Howlett brought the blade up over his head in preparation of a downward strike, Clint had gotten his leg between them so he could push the other man away. Howlett spat a few obscenities as he was tossed back. Before he could scramble close enough to cut Clint open with the knife in his hand, Clint’s pistol barked twice to punch two messy holes through Howlett’s face.
As he stood up, Clint was ready to shoot Howlett again. But all the smaller man could do was twitch on his side as his life trickled out of him. Nearby, Hall was standing over another body and reloading his Remington.
“Is that Farraday?” Clint asked.
“Yep,” Hall replied. He then stooped down to take something from the dead man’s hand. “I think this belongs to you.” With that, he tossed what he’d taken through the air.
Recognizing the modified Colt before it reached his hand, Clint caught it and examined the pistol. “Looks undamaged, at least.”
“The little prick didn’t get a chance to use it. Seeing as how I came to rescue you, I’d say you owe me.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Chapter Forty-Four
There were a good number of bodies scattered about that camp that were worth something to any bounty hunter. Fortunately for Hall, he not only had a cart to carry them all, but an extra set of indebted hands to help with the lifting. In a short amount of time, Hall was driving the cart slowly down the trail headed back to the Texas border.
Clint rode Eclipse alongside the cart. “How far do you intend to go?” he asked.
“Tonight? Not far. Just enough to put some distance between us and that camp. You know, just in case there were any stragglers on their way to meet up with the rest of them idiots.”
“I didn’t see Andrea’s body in that pile.”
“That’s right,” Hall replied. “I guess she was the brains of the outfit since she knew when to cut and run. There was one other fella, too. Didn’t recognize him, so it ain’t worth hunting him down. Besides, the money I collect from bringing in Howlett alone will be enough to buy me a nice little piece of land.”
“Where might that land be?”
“Somewhere quiet. Why, Adams? You worried I won’t give you your share?”
“Not hardly. Just thought it might be good to check in on you every now and then. Men attached to a movement like this tend to be fanatical. I’d hate to think any of them came looking for some measure of revenge.”
Hall spat out a hearty laugh. “I’ve had more organized movements in a shit house. You were right about one thing, at least. These men were crazy, pure and simple.”
“Lots of crazy men throughout history have done plenty of damage. Given a bit more time, these may have cut a real swath across New Mexico.”
“Instead, they’ll fade away like the other outlaw gangs who were put down like rabid dogs,” Hall said.
Clint nodded. “I suppose so.” After a few seconds he added, “I’ve got to admit. I’m surprised you were able to bait both Farraday and Howlett into jumping at us the way you did.”
“It’s just a matter of saying the right thing in the right tone. Really annoys the living shit out of people, you know?”
“Yeah. You’ve got a real talent for that.”
Hall smiled and then scowled. “Hey! What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
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