Colorado Crossfire (A Piccadilly Pulishing Western Book 15)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  “Howdy,” the man said looking up.

  Bigelow took another glance around at the results of what could only be a major calamity. “What the hell happened?”

  “A fire.”

  “Hell, we can see that. What started it?” Wilson asked.

  “A lynching went bad,” the man answered. “It turned into a riot.”

  “What was the lynching about?” Bigelow inquired. “Some fellers got shot dead by some other fellers.”

  “Anybody well-known involved?” Bigelow asked as his instincts as a detective came alive.

  “One o’ Milo Paxton’s boys,” the man said. “Tom Foyt. He was one of ’em that got kilt.”

  “Then who was you fixing to hang over it?” Wilson asked.

  “I personally didn’t know ’em,” the man said rubbing his dirty hands on his trousers. “One was a lanky white man and the other his Injun pal. They got into a fight over this here harmonica—”

  Bigelow held up his hand. “I don’t need to hear no more,” he said.

  “It’s sorta interesting in a stupid kinda way,” the man said.

  “Where them two are concerned I ain’t surprised,” Bigelow said. He knew then they had to travel on to find Lefty and Kiowa. The detective waved to the man. “I hope ever’thing turns out fine for you.”

  “Ever’thing is burnt up, mister.”

  Bigelow and Wilson rode through the mess to the other side of the settlement and back up into the woods. They stopped and looked back before leaving.

  “First a livery stable,” Bigelow said. “Now a whole damned town!”

  Wilson chuckled. “Yeah. You told me about the livery. But are you sure they could cause El Campo to burn down?”

  “Lefty McNally and the Kiowa Kid sure could,” Bigelow answered. “We got a whole nation trying to build and civilize the west. There’s railroads, the law, new industries, towns springing up all over, and folks streaming out here to start new lives. All this while Lefty McNally and the Kiowa Kid seem to be doing their level best to tear it all down until it’s worse than ever.”

  Ten

  The plans were all firmed up. As soon as Lefty and Kiowa finished their job with the Paxton Gang, they would meet Phineus Carrington in Luckville. Together, the trio would search out El Capitan, the fabulous mountain of pure silver. Success would make the three among the richest men in the world.

  “Only a European monarch would have more, lads,” Phineus told them.

  “How long do you figger it’ll take us to find it?” Lefty asked.

  Phineus could only shrug. “Lads, that old Spanish captain probably stumbled across those riches by the purest of chances. Perhaps we shall, too. Or there is the unhappier possibility that our quest will take months or even years to fulfill.”

  “But it’ll be worth it in the end, right?” Kiowa asked.

  “Indeed, my boy, indeed!”

  Everyone agreed that the old man’s superior experience and knowledge combined with the young men’s physical attributes would make a partnership beneficial to one and all.

  “We oughta be finished in ’bout sixty days,” Lefty had said.

  “Earlier’n that,” Kiowa figured.

  “You don’t know how long sixty days is,” Lefty said. “You don’t know nothing about counting or numbers.”

  Phineus spoke in a kindly tone to Kiowa. “Two moons are sixty days.”

  “I know that,” Kiowa insisted.

  “Anyhow, I just want to allow some leeway,” Lefty said. “In case we’re held up by some particular stubborn cuss.”

  Kiowa nodded. “That’s a good idea. I don’t think either Milo Paxton or Bill Hays is gonna go down easy.”

  “Very well, lads, the bargain is struck!” Phineus agreed. “I shall meet you in Luckville sixty days from this very day.” He chuckled. “And don’t fret, my boys, you will make your dream of returning to Oklahoma Territory as wealthy entrepreneurs a reality.”

  “Phineus,” Lefty said cautiously. “I don’t want you to think we’re hard to get along with. But sometimes we don’t understand a damn word you say.”

  “That’s right,” Kiowa agreed. “What the hell is an antipanooer?”

  Phineus chuckled. “What I meant to express, my boys, is that you will have so much money, you will be looking for places to spend it and to invest it to make more.”

  “If we’re already rich, why’d we want more?” Kiowa asked.

  Lefty scoffed. “Dumb Injun!”

  Kiowa was offended. “Looky here, galoot! If there’s a big ol’ herd o’ buffalo that’s more’n enough to feed you, why in the world would you wish for a bigger bunch to come along?”

  Phineus smiled. “Sometimes, Kiowa my young friend, you are a very wise person, indeed.”

  “He’s just dumb!” Lefty complained.

  “I ain’t!” Kiowa insisted.

  “Now! Now!” Phineus cautioned them. “Let us not argue over money matters even before we’ve found the silver.”

  Lefty and Kiowa quickly forgot their differences as Phineus began to describe the life enjoyed by rich men, and the evening passed.

  The next day, the little caravan – Kiowa riding in the front, Phineus on foot leading his mule in the center, and Lefty napping and nodding in the saddle in the rear – slowly ascended the narrow track leading up into the high country. They would part company at Luckville, returning there on the agreed date.

  This was to be a day of slow travel. With Phineus’ stubborn burro in tow, they had no choice. Therefore the pace was measured and steady, the clop-clop of the animals’ hooves the only sound as the men made their journey in silence. They spoke only occasionally as if saving up their conversation for the night’s campfire.

  Lefty and Kiowa had become fond of old Phineus Carrington. Being an educated and articulate man with a rich vocabulary, his endless talking during rest stops fascinated them, even if they had a hard time understanding exactly what he meant most of the time. A pair of more educated and enlightened people might have found the oldster a crushing bore, but the two, after a life among soldiers and other frontier people who were pragmatic and taciturn, loved to listen to Phineus’s one-sided conversations.

  It was late morning when Kiowa caught the fleeting sight of movement just off the trail. His hand had just moved toward the carbine in its saddle boot when a man stepped out on the track. He carried a buffalo rifle cradled in his arms.

  “Howdy,” the stranger said.

  Kiowa came to a stop making his traveling companions do likewise on the narrow trail. “Howdy.”

  The man looked to be in distress. His clothing was ripped and tattered as if he’d been traveling on foot for days through the forest. Unwashed with matted hair and beard, he smelled worse than the horses and burro. He smiled, showing rotted teeth. “Y’all wouldn’t be a-headed up to the town o’ Luckville, would you?”

  Lefty and Phineus peered around Kiowa at the man. Kiowa nodded. “We’re stopping there for awhile.”

  “I’d be pleased if I could come along with you,” the man said. “I got myself lost and in a bad way.” He grinned again. “But I suppose that’s easy to tell, ain’t it?”

  “Mister,” Kiowa said undiplomatically. “You look chewed up and spit out.”

  “I have—”

  The shot blasted out from the side, the bullet zipping past Kiowa’s face. Startled, the horses and burros jumped, their hooves pounding on the path as the three travelers attempted to control them.

  “You dumb bastards!” the man yelled up into the woods. “You shot too damn soon!”

  “Brigands, lads!” Phineus shouted. “We’re being robbed.”

  Kiowa, snarling in anger, drew and cut loose with a shot at the man in the trail, but the filthy creature had already dived for cover into the brush.

  Lefty, knowing what to do, fired rapid shots into the direction the shot came from to force the dry-gulchers to duck. He pulled on the reins tightly, making his horse whirl around to the oppos
ite direction. He spotted a man just off the trail. Lefty made a snap aim and shot. The ambusher flipped over on his back in the brush, then rolled back into view on the mountain track. Lying face down, the exit wound of the bullet showed he’d died for his efforts.

  But other bandits now began splitting the air with flying lead. Lefty, Kiowa, and Phineus made a silent, instantaneous decision to pull back to a safe place. The trio crashed into the brush off the opposite side of the track, and moved into a shallow gully situated there. They stopped and turned to face their attackers.

  The firing stopped.

  Phineus, a large Colt dragoon pistol in his hand, grimaced. “It would appear we have stumbled into a violent encounter with some rather desperate rascals, lads.”

  “Well, they ain’t real smart,” Lefty said. “They shoulda hit us from both sides.”

  Kiowa nodded. “They prob’ly figgered they only needed one side.”

  “They got us pinned in,” Lefty said. “We can’t go back up there without getting shot and we can’t go the other way without giving up the horses and the burro.”

  Kiowa peered down into the wilderness that stretched below them. “You’re right about that. We’d never get ’em through that undergrowth.”

  “And that, of course, means the abandonment of our possessions,” Phineus observed.

  “Maybe we can wait ’em out,” Kiowa said.

  “I doubt that,” Phineus said. “I’ve seen the sort before.” He ducked when an abrupt, short fusillade splattered the air above them. “They have evidently lost everything through calamity. They’re in need of clothing, tools, animals, and other necessities. The one fellow we saw seems to have been existing rather unskillfully on the bounty Mother Nature affords in these mountains.”

  “Yeah,” Kiowa agreed. “Even a Injun can have trouble sometimes when he’s out on his own “

  “I would imagine they are also carrying on this quite desperate tight with their last bits of ammunition,” Phineus added.

  Another volley of shots, numerous and violent, exploded once more in the trio’s direction.

  Lefty shook his head. “Yeah? Well, they must have plenty o’ last bullets, Phineus!”

  “Alas! That could be the case,” Phineus said.

  “I can’t figger out how many of ’em there is,” Kiowa complained.

  “Me either,” Lefty said. “Might not be more’n three, huh?”

  “Or four,” Kiowa said. “Or five and six and seven. Hell, who knows?” He’d never quite mastered the proper use of numbers and had trouble .estimating exact amounts. He summed it up with “I figger there’s a whole damn bunch of ’em.”

  “I think we oughta try to break out,” Lefty said. “There might not be enough of ’em to stop us.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” Phineus said. “Perhaps if we put up a spirited attack, they will decide it is not worth the risk to continue the battle.”

  “Yeah,” Lefty said.

  “You take the animals, Phineus,” Kiowa said. “Me and Lefty will lead the way.”

  “Agreed!” Phineus said.

  “I’m ready,” Lefty said.

  “Let’s go,” Kiowa said.

  The pair moved forward up the hill toward the trail. Immediately, firing broke out from ahead. Unable to spot any specific targets, Lefty and Kiowa began blindly shooting their Colts with the idea of putting out a discouraging curtain of flying slugs in front of them.

  But the robbers would have none of it. They stepped up their own volleys until the assault faltered. Finally, Lefty and Kiowa turned and rushed back almost colliding with Phineus. A couple of minutes later they were back where they started.

  “Anybody got any more ideas?” Lefty asked. He looked at Kiowa. “You Injuns is supposed to be good at this kinda fighting, ain’t you?”

  “We like to pick the time and place,” Kiowa said. “If you recollect, this ain’t the case here.” He tapped Phineus on the shoulder. “Got any plans forming in your head?”

  Before an answer could be given, a shout from above caught their attention.

  “Hey, you fellers!”

  Kiowa gritted his teeth. “That’s the sonofabitch that was on the trail.”

  “Hey! You fellers down there!”

  Lefty took a deep breath. “What?”

  “Well make a deal with you,” the man yelled. His voice echoed eerily through the trees. “Leave us your animals and gear, and we’ll let you walk outta here. You can even take your guns with you.”

  Lefty started to shout back, but Phineus grabbed his arm. The old man said, “I think it wise that we give this new development some thought.”

  “You don’t believe him, do you, Phineus?” Kiowa asked.

  “Not in the slightest,” Phineus said. “But let’s stall a bit by bargaining with him. If we arrange this properly, we can turn the situation around to our advantage. We, then, shall become the ambushers.”

  “I take it you got some sort o’ scheme?” Lefty asked.

  “One is formulating,” Phineus said. He was thoughtful for a few moments. “Tell him that we shall be glad to leave him enough provisions to last him for three days.”

  “Hey!” Lefty yelled. “We’ll leave you grub for three days.” Then he added. “And that’s all, goddamnit!”

  The robber shouted back, “That ain’t good enough!”

  Phineus nodded. “As I expected. Tell him we will leave our packs behind, but desire to take the animals and our firearms.”

  “Hey!” Lefty bellowed again. “Well leave our gear, but we’re taking the animals and our guns. How’s that?”

  “Deal!” the bandit hollered. “C’mon up, you fellers.”

  Phineus smiled. “Fine, lads. Now here is what we’ll do.”

  Kiowa winced. “Damn, Phineus. It better be good.”

  “It’s a simple ploy,” Phineus said. “We shall approach them as if we are frightened but believe we will be allowed to continue on our way without further molestation. When the blackguards are all exposed to our view, we shall open fire.”

  “That’s risky,” Kiowa said.

  “I don’t think it’ll work,” Lefty remarked.

  “It’s either that, lads, or we stay here and eventually be forced to abandon everything or be slain,” Phineus pointed out. “We are not in a position that offers numerous options.”

  “I don’t know exactly what you mean, Phineus, but let’s do it,” Lefty said.

  “Lead on, my boys!”

  Lefty shouted again. “We’re coming out. When we’re on the trail, we’ll leave ever’thing behind.”

  “That’s the deal!” the robber yelled back.

  The three struggled up the hill to the trail. When they arrived there they had to wait a few minutes for the bandits to appear. The last one, their spokesman, stepped into view, nodding.

  “Y’all can get along now.”

  Lefty, on the far side behind his horse, aimed at the man. He fired, the shot hitting the robber in the sternum and slamming him back into the side of the hill.

  Kiowa and Phineus opened up at the others, but found that some of the bandits had worked themselves around to the opposite side of the trail. Incoming shots roared and thundered, forcing the three to struggle up onto a higher position above the track. The steepness of the terrain now hemmed them in and they were forced to stop.

  “Well,” Lefty said as the shooting died down. “Here we are in the same fix.”

  “But on the other side,” Kiowa pointed out.

  “Well, that sure as hell don’t make things any better, do it?” Lefty snapped.

  But Phineus wasn’t discouraged. “Now is the time for our heavy artillery,” he announced going into his pack. He pulled out three sticks of dynamite.

  Some more shots were fired in their direction and they could hear the bandits yelling to one another.

  “You been toting that stuff around all this time?” Lefty asked ignoring the disturbance.

  “Ain’t it dangerou
s?” Kiowa inquired. “I always been kinda nervous around dynamite.”

  “Yeah,” Lefty said. “They was using some back at Fort Sill and had an accident.”

  “Some soljers got kilt,” Kiowa said.

  “Now, now, my lads, I have been utilizing explosives for quite a long time in my mining activities. It saves days of digging, believe me. But I am willing to sacrifice the convenience in order to extricate ourselves from this dilemma.”

  Renewed firing from the robbers sent bullets splattering through the branches above their heads.

  “At least we know the rascals’ physical location,” Phineus said. The old man searched round inside his pack again until he found fuse and caps. “Always keep these away from the sticks, lads,” he advised as he set to work rigging up three charges. “A misadventure could cause the caps to go off. If they’re far enough away from the dynamite, the damage and injury will not be as great.”

  “I don’t like them words ‘damage and injury,’ Phineus,” Lefty said.

  “Me either,” Kiowa said. “If it’s all the same to you, when we’re working the El Capitan, we’d prefer to do it the old-fashioned way – with pick and shovel.”

  “Not to worry, lads,” Phineus assured them. “I shall personally instruct you to the point of expertise with demolitions.” He handed them each one of the prepared explosive devices, keeping one for himself. “The fuses I have set are for sixty seconds, my boys, though I must admit that the timing of the burn is not an exact science. Such conditions as age, moisture—”

  A volley of bandit bullets again splattered around them.

  “We’ll trust you, Phineus,” Lefty said in nervous impatience. “Just tell us what to do.”

  Phineus nodded and quickly lit the three sticks of dynamite. “Throw them at an oblique angle toward the trail,” he advised. “That direction seems to offer the most opportunity for a truer trajectory.”

  Kiowa pointed. “That way, Phineus?”

  “Yes, my boy.”

  “After they go off, what do we do?” Lefty asked.

  “We charge vigorously forward,” Phineus said. “Since the rogues will be in shock and confusion, we should be able to effect our escape quite handily.”