Gunsmoke for McAllister

by Matt Chisholm

  Sam said: ‘I told you, Rem.’

  The girl flew to him and he put an arm around her.

  McAllister said: ‘Where’re the keys? We have to move fast.’ Already he could hear shouts of alarm in the basin. It sounded as if the prisoners in the mouth of the tunnel had opened up with their two revolvers.

  The girl had the keys in her hand. McAllister snatched them from her and bent to free Sam. He managed the leg-irons all right, then ran into trouble with the manacles.

  ‘Hurry it up,’ Sam said through his teeth, sweating.

  ‘The Goddamn key’s jammed.’

  There was a rattle of rifle fire out in the basin. A horse ran through the night. A bullet tore through the oiled-cloth of the window and smacked into the opposite wall.

  The key turned and Sam’s hands were free. McAllister handed the key to the girl, she dropped to one knee and started to free his ankles. Sam, his rifle in his hands, threw himself down in the open doorway and lined his rifle up with some hurrying dark figures out in the basin. But he didn’t know who they were and couldn’t shoot. The gunfire out there rose to a crescendo.

  Sam called back: ‘They’re cutting down on the boys in the tunnel.’

  McAllister’s ankles were free. The girl started on his wrists. More lead smacked into the little building. Sam started firing. That drew more fire down on the cabin and the air seemed alive with flying lead. McAllister’s hands were free. He snatched up his rifle and said to the girl: ‘Where’s my gun?’

  The girl reached it from the top of a bureau and handed it to him. He shoved it under his belt and felt better for having it again. He blew out the light. The girl went and lay down on the floor by Sam. McAllister ripped the cloth over a window with the rifle muzzle and stared out into the night. He didn’t see how they could get the keys to the men in the tunnel.

  His eyes were getting used to the dark now and he could see a little more. Figures seemed to be flitting out there on the flat. He thought he saw men starting to run for the cabin from the tunnel. The rifles out there went crazy, a man screamed, several seemed to fall.

  Sam said: ‘Rem, we’ll be lucky if we git outa this alive.’

  ‘You’re right,’ McAllister said and started firing.

  The girl said: ‘I have horses waiting. We must go now.’

  ‘How about the boys in the tunnel?’ Sam asked.

  McAllister hated himself as he said: ‘We couldn’t get through that fire. Where’re the horses, Carlita?’

  ‘To the north. Back of this cabin.’

  He asked: ‘What’ll Rawley do to the others if they don’t get away?’

  Sam answered: ‘He won’t kill ’em till he’s used them all he wants.’

  ‘We must go now. See, they are coming closer.’

  It was true. The men out there were getting close under cover of the mills. They had plenty of ammunition to burn and they were pouring a heavy fire into the cabin.

  Sam said: ‘We ain’t goin’ to do anybody any good stayin’ here. Let’s go, Rem.’

  McAllister said: ‘You an’ the girl go out the rear window. I’ll keep their heads down a while.’

  Sam protested, but McAllister swore at him and they both went to the rear window. McAllister saw a dark figure running and snapped a shot at it, but he didn’t know if he scored a hit. He heard Sam ripping open the oiled cloth. A moment later, he heard Sam call: ‘Come ahead, Rem.’

  He gave the attackers one last shot and ran across the darkened room toward the window. Throwing a leg over the sill, he jumped into the darkness and hit ground. Vaguely, he could make out Sam and the girl heading out into the darkness, he set out after them. In a minute, he was staggering into brush and fending it off. Ahead of him a horse whinnied. Then there were three horses in the dimness and they were untying them and vaulting onto their backs. The animals played up a bit and it wasn’t easy to stay on their backs without a saddle, but they made out and a moment later were sending them at a crazy run into the darkness.

  Chapter 6

  Balanced on the back of a running horse in the dark, moving over ground that he didn’t know, wasn’t the most comfortable thing that McAllister had ever done. He was thankful that the girl seemed to know the way. Once they were fired on from the dark and, though lead whistled closely about their heads, they went on unscathed. After a few minutes, the girl halted and their horses cannoned into each other. They had reached the trail up the wall of the basin. They dismounted and led their horses forward and up.

  It wasn’t easy in the dark. McAllister couldn’t see much, but he knew that the way was perilously narrow and that one false move would send him or his mount over the side. The horse he led wore nothing more than a hackamore and whoever had tied the rope it was composed of had done so carelessly. Halfway up the trail, it came loose and the horse broke free. Cursing and sweating, McAllister got the rope around the animal’s throat and led it that way.

  Suddenly from up ahead –

  ‘Quién es?’

  McAllister, the girl in front of him and Sam immediately behind, regretted now that he wasn’t in the van. He thought that he could dimly see the head and shoulders of a man against the night sky, but the girl obscured his view. He dared not shoot for fear of her being hit.

  In Spanish he called back: ‘Juan Robles.’

  The man above said in the same language: ‘I never heard of any Robles.’

  They had halted now. McAllister said with a touch of impatience: ‘Maybe I never heard of you, amigo.’

  The man called back: ‘Advance and do so with great care. I am ready to shoot.’

  They went on slowly and in a few moments stood on the rim-rock of the basin. The guard exclaimed: ‘Why, it is Carlita. Why did you not call out, little one?’

  She stuck the muzzle of her revolver in the man’s belly and said: ‘Because of this, my friend.’ The man made a startled sound. He fell back a pace, but the girl followed him with the gun. Sam came up one side of him and took his revolver from its holster, McAllister came up on the other side and relieved him of his rifle.

  ‘Do you have a horse up here?’ McAllister asked.

  ‘No horse,’ was the answer.

  Sam said: ‘If you wish to stay alive, you will walk down the trail and you will do so without shouting.’

  Yes, the man replied, he would do that. Anything the noble caballeros said. They pushed him toward the head of the trail and he disappeared from their sight into the darkness.

  ‘Where to now?’ Sam asked.

  ‘My horse ain’t so far off,’ McAllister said. ‘He has a saddle on him and he’s too good to lose.’

  ‘We must hurry or they will follow us,’ the girl said.

  Sam said: ‘If they follow us out into this country and maybe into the arms of a bunch of Apaches, they must be crazy.’

  They mounted and McAllister led the way this time. There was a sound of shouting behind them and they knew the guard they had disarmed was warning the others which way they had gone, if they didn’t know already. They heard some shouts and the sound of pursuit behind them, but they were not overly afraid of it, for now they had rifles and darkness to aid them. But the pursuit did not persist and, by the sounds of it, did not come any further than the rim of the basin.

  It wasn’t easy even for McAllister to find his way in the pitch-dark to the place where he had left the horse. After some time, McAllister risked a whistle and was answered, after several attempts, by the horse. The animal was pleased as a dog to see his master and McAllister was reluctant to offer the animal to the girl so that she might have the comfort of a saddle. But a woman was a woman and he made the offer. She accepted with alacrity and was astride the California horse in a second and they headed out east.

  Now they were clear of the basin, their ride grew not less tense, but more so, for now they rode in mortal fear of being jumped by the Apache. Both Sam and McAllister had heard the legend that Indians never fight in the night, but both bore scars to prove that a li
e. They both reckoned the Apache had heard the shooting and would be attracted to it. It was obvious that the Indians were at war with the men mining the gold and that they would be interested in anybody shooting at their foe. Sam thought there might be a chance for them if Gato were with the Indians, for he had met up with the renegade chief once and had found him peaceably inclined. But that had been a year back and that was not now.

  They rode till dawn when they found themselves in a narrow canyon still moving roughly east. Here they stopped and rested and talked. There was no grass or water for the horses, but they all needed rest. There was no sense in travelling the guts out of the horses at this stage in the game. They loosened the girth on the canelo, moistened the mouths of the horses with water from the canteen the girl had with her and each sipped a little from the one Sam had slung over one shoulder. They rested in the shade of an overhang.

  McAllister said: ‘We’re as good as clean away from ’em. I don’t reckon they’ll follow us in this country.’

  ‘Maybe Rawley’ll reckon we’re too dangerous to let go.’

  ‘It’ll be two days before he can git up here. No, I reckon they’re gettin’ set to pull out, A few days’ll see them into New Mexico.’

  ‘An’ the prisoners dead,’ Sam said. He didn’t look at McAllister.

  ‘Sam,’ McAllister said, ‘that brings me to it. Them fellers back there – they was countin’ on us.’

  Sam turned his head slowly.

  ‘I always reckoned you were crazier than a hill-nutty,’ he said. ‘Now I know it for sure.’

  ‘We went for the keys and they was waitin’.’

  ‘There’s you all beat up,’ Sam said, ‘an’ me like a skeleton.’

  ‘You didn’t act like no skeleton back yonder.’

  ‘It was me I was savin’.’

  ‘You don’t come with me, I reckon I’ll go back alone.’

  Sam laughed unpleasantly.

  ‘Sure, that’s the Goddamn kind of stupid thing you would do. Always rushin’ in. I knew you’d want to go back. I banked on it. But we’ll not go back in there half-cock just as we are. I thought it out.’

  McAllister smiled. For a moment, Sam had him fooled.

  ‘What about the girl?’ he asked.

  ‘She stays with us.’

  ‘Can’t we leave her with Jenkins?’

  ‘And have Rawley find her? No, she stays. You don’t know Carlita. She’ll do to ride the river with.’

  McAllister looked at the girl who gazed back at him steadily. She had certainly paid for Rich back there in the basin, but still he didn’t like to expose a woman to the kind of trouble they’d be riding back into.

  She said in Spanish: ‘You are afraid for me, amigo. Do not be. I have known Sam a long time and often we have faced trouble together. You will not find that I get in the way.’

  McAllister turned to Sam.

  ‘So what do we do first, seein’ you got it all planned out?’

  ‘We need food and water. Ammunition.’

  ‘Can we get them at Jenkins’ place?’

  ‘No, we’ll have to go into Euly.’

  McAllister, who fondly supposed that he was the craziest man alive, was taken aback.

  “You outa your mind?’ he asked icily.

  But they rode for Euly, working their way slowly out of the hills, their chins on their shoulders as they looked for any sign of other humans, whether white or Indian. Both men were in a pretty bad way, for McAllister had not recovered from his beating nor Sam from his general hardship. Carlita seemed a girl of character and, as they rode, McAllister regarded her with some interest. He knew her from the start as a beautiful and attractive woman, but now he saw her as something considerably more than that. She was as tough in mind as in body and rode as tirelessly as a man. Plainly, there was an easy understanding between her and Sam and McAllister was aware that under this there was a deep affection between the two.

  On the way into town, they stopped off at Sam’s place and here Sam produced spare pants and shirts so that he and McAllister could dispose of their rags. From under the floorboards of the cabin, he produced a bag of gold coins and this he distributed among them, so that if one were caught the others would have money on them. He rustled up an old saddle and threw that on one of the captured horses, so two of them were now saddled. He and McAllister argued about who would sit the saddle and McAllister won on the grounds that it didn’t fit him. They took with them a small supply of jerky that the Apaches hadn’t discovered and went on their way, heading directly south so that they could come into Euly from that direction and avoid Rawley who was now probably heading for the diggings in the hills.

  They rode at a steady pace, going as fast as they dared without running the tiring horses into the ground. Happily both Sam and Carlita knew the country well and were able to take them by water and grass for the stock. Dark found them circling the town and well before midnight they were within sight of the few lighted windows. They left Carlita with the horses among some trees and walked ahead into town together. They were both tired and about done in, but they knew that they would have to keep going for a good few hours before they could close their eyes in sleep.

  McAllister asked: ‘Where do we go?’

  ‘Freeshaw. He’s a kind of friend of mine, he owes me a favor and he has food and ammunition. He sells and buys most anythin’ and he might even have a saddle.’

  They worked their way around town through the backlots, going cautiously and stopping frequently to look and listen. The town was pretty quiet and the only thing that worried them was an inquisitive cur. The animal followed them, whining, till they came to a halt at the rear of the building which Sam was seeking.

  ‘This is it,’ Sam said. ‘Most likely Henry’s sleepin’. If I can get him without that damn wife of his, it’ll be all right.’

  They found a side door over a loading ramp and Sam knocked. He had to knock several times before an upstairs window opened and a man’s head and shoulders appeared dimly in the moonlight.

  ‘What the hell do you want?’

  ‘Sam Spur,’ Sam said.

  ‘Sam,’ the man gasped. ‘My God! I’ll be right down.’

  The head and shoulders were withdrawn. They heard a woman’s querulous voice and the man rumbling a reply. A few minutes later the door opened and a man appeared with a lamp in his hands. He was fat and bald and he looked scared. A warning note sounded in McAllister’s head.

  ‘You didn’t ought to of come, Sam,’ were the man’s opening words. His frightened eyes shot to McAllister. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Friend of mine.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Supplies.’

  The fright turned to terror. The man held a hand up as if to ward them off.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I daresn’t. You’re wanted, Sam.’

  Sam asked evenly, ‘What am I wanted for, Henry?’

  ‘Murder.’

  McAllister didn’t hesitate. They didn’t have any time for fooling around here. He pulled the Remington from leather and showed its dark eye to the storekeeper. The man looked like he’d take off with fright. His eyes came wide and his mouth fell open. For a moment, he stammered without making any sense. Then he managed to tell them – ‘I – I – I’d like to help. But the sheriff posted you as wanted. I heard myself. Said he was goin’ to see you hang.’

  McAllister said: ‘Back up, we’re comin’ in.’

  ‘Take it easy, Rem,’ Sam said. ‘He’s a friend of mine.’

  ‘If he’s a friend, God save you from your enemies,’ McAllister told him. ‘Get inside, fat man, or I start shootin’.’

  Freeshaw went back inside with alacrity. McAllister and Sam stepped in after him and found themselves inside a storeroom packed from floor to ceiling with merchandise. As Sam closed the door behind them, a woman appeared. She was not a thing of beauty, her hair was in curlers, a shabby robe was clutched to her massive bosom and she was scared and angry all at once. S
he started screaming righteous abuse at McAllister who said coldly: ‘Shut your noise, ma’am, or I cut your man down. Now, Henry, fetch a few gunnysacks and start filling our order.’

  Shaking the man hastened to obey. In the next fifteen minutes, he filled the gunnysacks with enough food to last the three of them for a week, several hundred rounds of ammunition for their rifles and revolvers and an old saddle. There was a bridle hanging from a peg and McAllister threw this in for good measure. Sam paid and added ten dollars as danger pay, as he called it. Henry didn’t look as though he appreciated the gesture. The woman told them: ‘The sheriff’ll catch you and hang you for the murderers you are.’

  McAllister smiled and said: ‘If he don’t hang first, ma’am.’

  Then they were out of the place and, heavily loaded, were walking back to the horses. When they reached them, Carlita emotionally flung her arms around Sam, she was so pleased to see him safely back. They saddled the horse for the girl and loaded the horses. Later they would rig up some sort of pack-saddle for the spare horse, but right now, they wanted to get clear of the town. They mounted, McAllister now thankfully back aboard the canelo, and headed south, circling through the night until they were well clear of the town and headed north, going steadily into the hills until dawn. Now they halted, built a smokeless fire and cooked themselves a good breakfast. They would sleep and would maybe have to wake and depart in a hurry, if so they would do so with full bellies. It was sheer luxury to eat good bacon and beans and drink good hot coffee. They almost fell asleep while they were eating. They discussed whether they should mount a guard while they slept, but agreed that they all needed sleep too greatly for that. As a safety precaution, they scattered for sleep, Sam and Carlita bedding down in a niche in the rocks together and McAllister sleeping along some fifty paces distant. As he walked away from them, he told Sam: ‘You was always the lucky one, Sam.’ The horses were roughly hobbled with ropes to stop them wandering too far, but so they could find all the good grass they so badly needed.