Elmer nudged his horse over to George. “You all right, brother?”
George nodded, his teeth chattering, the sound clear even with the wind, the rain and the thunder. “I – I think so.”
“We’re damn lucky we didn’t lose you, George,” Aaron said, shivering.
Thus, the three of them, with five horses, stood amidst the pouring rain and heavy wind. The lightning and thunder passed them by, flashing in the distance, the low growls growing more and more faint. Within another fifteen minutes, the rain had also cleared off. Aaron turned his face up as the sun emerged from the roiling clouds.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see that,” he said, grinning a little. Taking off his dripping hat, he shook back his hair, combing it back. “I’m actually starting to warm up.”
George dismounted from his horse, and in the mud, he dropped to one knee, hat in hand. He bowed his head. “Thank you,” was all he muttered. Squelching back through the mud around his mount’s hindquarters, he gazed at the gulch that had once been a raging river. “Look at that.”
Aaron and Elmer both stared. The gulch was a gulch again, the waters receding, little evidence remained of what had been a flood that forced them to flee for their lives.
“I reckon that’s why they call them flash floods,” Elmer commented. “There and gone in a flash.”
With the sun now blazing down on them, Aaron warmed up quickly, but his clothes and saddle remained damp. With all the extra moisture in the air, he knew he would take a long time drying. “I guess we should ride on,” he said, “find a place to camp.”
“All our food will be ruined,” George said, inspecting the contents of his saddlebags. “The whiskey is still good.”
He mounted up. Leading the way east, Aaron reflected on how close they had all come to being killed less than an hour past. Had they been slower in getting to George, he and Elmer might have survived, but right now they’d be searching for George’s corpse. Had they been a few seconds longer getting him out, they’d be all dead.
“The power of the land.”
Aaron glanced over at Elmer in surprise. Elmer smiled wryly. “It ain’t just bullets or the hangman’s noose that can kill you,” he said. “A flood. A tornado. A wildfire.” He pointed to the ground. “A rattlesnake. We escape death every single day and never realize it.”
Aaron nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s very true.”
“After what happened today,” Elmer went on slowly. “I think I’m going to give up thieving. Take what I got and buy a small farm. Aaron, we don’t always get second chances like this. After we spring Benji, I’m giving up the life.”
“I am, too, Aaron,” George said. “I almost died, and it weren’t from getting shot. I’m alive because of a miracle that you two got to me in time. I’m done, also.”
Aaron nodded thoughtfully. “That’s your choice, boys. I’ll respect it.”
Elmer watched him carefully. “Will you give it up, too? Leave while you still can?”
Aaron gazed out at the eastern horizon across the inhospitable land. “I’m not going to look beyond tomorrow, boys. It’s one day at a time for me.”
* * *
Four days of hard riding brought them outside the small town of Sugar Land, Texas. They had replenished their supplies at a small trading store near the ranching town of Seguin, and thus had food, coffee, and salt in plenty. With bulging saddlebags, the brothers continued their journey East, the sun’s terrible heat made Aaron wonder how he could have ever been cold that day of the flood.
Camping on a hill where they could see for miles in any direction, Aaron watched the town in the distance. As the horses grazed on the lush pastures of the region, Aaron and Elmer discussed options on getting Benji out, if he was indeed in there. Aaron thought he saw the prison itself, a massive stone structure at the edge of town.
“They may have work gangs,” Elmer said, sitting beside Aaron in the shade as George played cards behind them. “We can ride in there and threaten to shoot the guards if they don’t cut him loose.”
“Aren’t they chained?” Aaron asked. “If so, the guards may not have the keys.”
“Maybe,” Elmer responded slowly. “Maybe not. What we need to do is get in close. Watch the prisoners led out in these chain gangs, and see if we see Benji.”
“How can we do that without being recognized?”
“Let me take care of that.”
The next day, Elmer rode off, not to the town, but back West. Aaron fretted all day, wondering what he had in mind. He didn’t just ride off and leave us? He didn’t want to believe that, but after the talk of quitting the life of an outlaw, he wasn’t so sure.
By mid-afternoon, Elmer rode back up the hill at a walk, a donkey laden with baskets on its back led by its rope. Both Aaron and George gaped as Elmer crossed his leg over his saddle horn and grinned down at them.
“Just what are we supposed to do with that thing?” Aaron demanded, pointing at the gray donkey, getting angry.
“She’s part of our disguise,” Elmer said, leaning out of his saddle to stroke her long ears.
“If you don’t explain yourself this minute, I’m gonna shoot you to kingdom come.”
Elmer laughed and slid down from his saddle. Opening his saddlebags, he pulled out colorful serapes and tossed one to Aaron. “With these, a pair of big sombreros and our little friend there, we’ll pass for a pair of poor Mexicans.”
“How many Mexicans have red hair, dummy?” Aaron snapped.
Elmer pulled out a small clay jar and threw that to him as well. “Black shoe polish. Turn our red hair to black. Comprende, senor?”
At last Aaron began to laugh. “Si.”
Thus, shortly after dawn the next morning, two Mexican peasants walked down the hill toward the town of Sugar Land, pulling a small donkey behind them. Wearing serapes, wide sombreros, tan trousers, and sandals, Aaron and Elmer covered their very white feet with mud and grime and added dust to their faces. “Keep your eyes down,” Elmer warned. “Mexicans don’t usually have blue eyes.”
In town, they found many Mexicans just like them, operating an open-air market not far from the prison. People passed them by as in any town, some smiling and nodding, others not as friendly. Several federal marshals rode or walked past the two Dawson brothers, not giving them a second glance. They sat in the shade of a large cedar, their patient donkey dozing at their side, her tail absently swishing at flies.
“We should have thought of this when we were robbing banks,” Aaron muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Blame the crime on Mexican banditos.”
“Think Colbert was found and spilled that we were coming here?” Elmer asked. “There sure seems to be a lot of federal marshals here.”
“We better plan that they are expecting us,” Aaron replied, closing his eyes as though sleeping whenever someone came close.
In studying the place, Aaron knew that a direct frontal assault would never work. Guards on foot and horseback surrounded the structure. It in itself was built like a fortress made of granite blocks with tall guard towers and a medieval-looking gate of wrought iron and steel. No one went in or bypassed the guards.
“Our only hope lies in a chain gang,” Elmer said, his tone grim. “Otherwise, there’s no getting him out of there.”
As much as he hated it, Aaron was forced to agree. “Surely, we’d see the prisoners heading out to work by now.”
“Unless they left before we got here.”
To both avoid raised eyebrows and to stretch their legs, Aaron and Elmer got up to walk around the town a little. They had brought food, kept in the donkey’s straw panniers, to avoid the need to buy a meal and not pass as truly Mexican. Aaron knew very little Spanish, and Elmer only a tad more than he did.
By late afternoon, they and their donkey found a fresh patch of shade with which to pass the time and watch for the chain gangs to return. That Benji would be on one Aaron had no doubt. The marshals would have made damn sure Benji suf
fered as much as possible during his long imprisonment.
Just as Aaron was about to give up, while dusk settled over the land and Sugar Land’s inhabitants headed toward their homes, families, and suppers, the rattling of chains eclipsed the evening’s silence. Aaron gripped Elmer’s arm as a long line of men clad in black and white striped clothes strode wearily toward the prison’s gates.
“Do you see him?” Aaron whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Shhh. Not yet.”
Wishing they had taken a position closer, Aaron peered through the gloom toward the men chained hand and foot, each man attached to the one in front. Guards armed with rifles and mounted on horses walked to either side, watching the inmates closely.
“How can we free Benji from all those others?” Aaron asked, near despair.
Elmer gripped his arm tight. “There. He’s right there.”
“Where?”
“Behind the tall thin one.”
Eager, Aaron stared hard. Was it really Benji, their younger brother? The man Elmer pointed out walked with the same dispirited attitude as the others, his head down, his red hair, if it was red, falling tangled and filthy to his shoulders, his body slumped with exhaustion. As Aaron stared harder, he recognized the man’s features – they were his own.
“Benji,” he breathed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harvey Johnson, the town drunk and now the leader of a gang of boys, recognized Tyler at the same moment Tyler recognized him. Raising his rifle, still at a lope, Tyler yelled, “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
Johnson didn’t heed his order. Wheeling his horse, he yelled at the Miller boys behind him, “Ride! Run!”
Watching the tangle of horses as their riders tried to turn on the narrow trail, Tyler fired off a quick shot. He hoped it would make them surrender, but the Miller boys and Johnson whipped their mounts with their reins, forcing them into a dead run down the trail. Giving chase, Tyler didn’t shoot again in the hopes of their surrender once they realized they were trapped.
The narrow trail rounded a bend and Tyler lost sight of his quarry. He still heard the shouts, yells, and gunfire as Johnson and the boys discovered another band of men had them cut off from escape. Kicking his horse into greater speed, Tyler galloped headlong down the trail into chaos.
Standing in his stirrups, the Miller boys and their horses jammed in a tight knot on the trail, Johnson fired at the approaching men led by Harold. One of the boys, the biggest, who Tyler assumed was Kevin, also fired his rifle. Reining his horse into a rearing halt, he aimed his own gun at Johnson and pulled the trigger.
Yelling out, Johnson lowered his gun, blood blossoming on his shirt, but he didn’t fall from his horse. Turning it, he kicked it hard, forcing the beast through the tangle of horses, and into the thick trees. A horse reared. A boyish voice cried out as one of the riders tumbled out of the saddle. Bearing down on the boys, Tyler saw Harold in the lead on the far side of them, relieved that he did not appear hurt.
Two of the Miller kids still aboard their mounts, kicked them into the trees, following hard on Johnson’s trail just as Tyler and his band reached the spot where they had been a moment before. The fallen boy’s horse also bolted, chasing after its companions, leaving the winded kid on the ground.
Leaping from his horse, Tyler heard crashing in the underbrush as Johnson and the other boys fled. Trotting to the kid on the ground, Tyler planted his boot on the boy’s back, pinning him, his rifle barrel pressed against the back of his head.
“Don’t move,” he warned.
He glanced up as Harold dismounted, the other men riding in as close as they could. “Should we chase after them?” Harold asked, his rifle in his hand.
“No,” Tyler replied. “Johnson’s got my bullet in him, he’ll go to ground somewhere. We’ve got that storm breathing down our necks, too. And we caught one.”
Unlike Ian, this boy lay quiet under Tyler’s boot and gun resting against his head, his face turned away from them. “Who is this?” Tyler asked.
Harold peered closer. “Dennis. The middle boy.”
“Well, Dennis,” Tyler said cheerfully, “you just earned yourself a stay in jail.”
“My brothers will break me out,” he said, not a trace of tears or fear in his voice.
“I don’t think so. Where you’re going, they’ll need dynamite to get you out, even if they find you.”
Harold went to his saddlebags and retrieved a set of steel shackles. “The county owes me for these,” he said, clamping them on Dennis’s hands when Tyler forced them behind his back. “Unless I get them back.”
Taking his foot from the kid, Tyler and Harold hauled him to his feet. Defiant blue eyes glared at them under a shaggy mop of dirty blond hair, Dennis guessed his age to be about fourteen or fifteen. “You’re awful young to be riding like an outlaw, trying to kill people.”
“And you’re a damn Injun lover,” the boy spat back. “Injuns need killing, and so do you.”
Harold shook his head. “This is sad. Taught only violence and hatred. I doubt he’ll ever change.”
“It’s good he’ll spend the rest of his life in jail,” Tyler replied, dragging the boy toward his bay. “Help me haul him over my saddle.”
The Miller boy offered no fight as Tyler and Harold hefted him face down over Tyler’s saddle. In the distance, thunder rumbled, and the wind rose to make the tree branches around them lash. “You lead the way to this old jail,” Tyler said to Harold, swinging up to ride his horse’s rump behind the kid.
“Fortunately, it’s not far.”
With the rest of the posse strung out behind them, Harold and Tyler rode at a quick trot back down the trail. Finding another small path that led into the hills, this one well overgrown with bramble and mesquite, Tyler was forced to duck low over the kid and his horse’s neck in order to not be swept off his bay’s rump.
Soon the path vanished altogether, Harold still making his way unerringly toward a narrow gap in the jagged hills, huge black rocks all but blocking the way. Tyler rode into a shallow canyon, a sheer cliff face at the far end. Built into the cliff lay the old jail; a curve of rock in the hollowed-out precipice, heavy steel bars set firmly within the granite.
He chuckled, sliding down from his bay pulling Dennis with him. “I don’t think you’ll be getting out of that anytime soon.”
Dennis’s skin paled when he saw it. “You can’t keep me in that,” he tried to snap. “I’m just a kid.”
Taking his other arm, Harold helped Tyler drag him to the cave. “You’ll have lots of time to sit here and reflect on your sins, boy. And remember that this is what you may be facing for the rest of your life if you don’t change your ways now.”
“Let’s keep him shackled,” Tyler said as they halted in front of the cage. “But with his hands in front so he can eat and drink.”
This time, the boy tried to fight, kicking and punching, but he was no match for two adult men. His hands bound in front of him with steel, Harold and Tyler forced him inside, and swung the heavy gate shut with a resounding clang.
“Don’t leave me here!” Dennis yelled, his expression now filled with fear and anguish.
One of the posse approached with a canteen and a small bundle in his hands. He gazed in at the boy, his brows furrowed in sorrow. He pushed the canteen and the bundle in through the bars to drop on the ground. “Water and some travel rations,” he said. “I hate seeing this, Deputy. It’s wrong. But I reckon it’s a greater wrong to have him running loose.”
Tyler clapped him on the shoulder. “And temporary. Once we get Johnson and his brothers, we’ll bring him to town and put him in the regular jail. His ma can come visit.”
The man nodded, then returned to the rest of the men. Tyler peered in at the now frightened kid. “We’ll be back tomorrow and bring you food and water. Meanwhile, as Mr. Maple said, you might reflect on your future, son.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aaron almost couldn’t bel
ieve what he was seeing. They had found Benji, against all the odds. Imprisoned yes, but there still might be a way to free him from the chains that bound him. It would take patience and strategy, but Aaron knew they could pull it off. They were blood, after all.
“We found him.” Elmer’s fierce voice sounded filled with grim triumph. “Let’s get back to George. Maybe we can spy on the gang at work, find a way to spring him.”
However, Aaron continued to sit where he was, watching his youngest brother, drinking in the sight of him as though he were fine wine, until he passed through the iron gates and they clanged shut behind him. Despite his filth and his weariness, Benji looked healthy enough. Strong, even. Aaron stared at the now closed gates until Elmer nudged his arm.
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