by Bobbi Smith
The stage raced wildly on until one of the attackers managed to control the horses and stop them. One point-blank shot ended the life of the hapless salesman. Quiet once again reigned over the countryside.
“Well done, gentlemen,” Ted said as he stripped off the mask he’d worn and surveyed the destruction that had been wrought. “Help yourselves to the payroll. You earned every cent.”
“You ever need us again, just let us know,” one of the gang told him as he shot the lock off the strong box and crowed over the money inside. The other outlaws ran to get their share.
“I think things are well in hand now. But your talents are appreciated.” He turned his horse away and rode off, eager to let his mother know that all had gone as planned. Smoothly—very smoothly. Riches were soon to be theirs.
He did not look back as he headed for San Rafael. He felt no remorse over the shooting of his stepfather and step-uncle. Truth be told, he’d almost enjoyed shooting Dan in the back. He smiled as he imagined how fine life was going to be in New Orleans.
Isaac Moore glanced at his pocketwatch as he waited at the stage depot at Comanche Pass. Dan and Asa were riding together today, and if anybody could be depended on to make it on time, they could. He shook his head, troubled, and went back inside.
Isaac had worked for the Taylors for three years now, ever since he’d decided not to reenlist in the Tenth Cavalry and had gone looking for a better life. His life hadn’t been much up until now. The son of slaves from Alabama, he’d been only ten when the war ended and he and his parents had left the South and headed west to start a new life. They’d migrated to Missouri, then on to Kansas. They’d lived there for a few years and had started a homestead, but then the sickness had come and both his parents had died. Alone, with little to support himself, he’d traveled farther west and had ended up enlisting in the Tenth. He’d been posted to Fort Concho and had spent the last several years learning about the Southwest. He’d decided Texas was the place he wanted to be, and so when he’d had the chance, he’d left the cavalry and started out on his own. He wanted to settle down, and working for the Taylors seemed the way to do it.
He’d found true friends in Dan and Asa. They were men who judged others by merit and not skin color. After driving for them and proving his worth, he’d been put in charge of the station. He was proud of his promotion, but with it had come responsibility. And right now, it was his responsibility to find out what had happened to the stage. It wasn’t like Dan and Asa to be late, and after all the trouble last month, he was not only worried, he was afraid.
Isaac waited the better part of an hour before he went looking for the other help.
“Shorty!” he called out to one of the men who tended the horses. “Saddle me up a mount. I’m going out to check on Dan and Asa.”
“They that late?”
“Almost an hour, but I’m not taking any chances—not after those two robberies last month.”
Shorty hurried to saddle a horse and then led the mount out to Isaac. He stopped by a hook on the wall where his holster hung and took it down. He handed it to Isaac.
“Here, wear this. There ain’t no tellin’ what you’re gonna run into out there.”
“Thanks.” Isaac buckled on the gunbelt and settled it low on his hips. He swung up in the saddle. “I’ll be back. Real soon, I hope.”
“Be careful.”
The ride was hot, dry and quiet . . . too quiet for Isaac’s taste. As mile after mile passed and he didn’t run into the stage coming his way, his fear grew. He’d been out for almost two hours when he heard the sound of a horse whinnying. He spurred his mount to a gallop and raced over the low rise, where he came upon the scene of the carnage.
In horror, Isaac reined in and stared around in disbelief. The strongbox had been looted; the passenger was dead. He drew his gun and all but threw himself from the horse to look for Dan and Asa. He found Asa first and knew he was dead. Pain tore through him. This man had been his friend, and a robber’s bullet had put an end to his life. He thought of his wife, Mona, and his son, Ted, and knew the news would devastate them. Grimly determined, he searched on, looking for some sign of Dan. He’d been the closest to Dan. He had been the one who’d trusted him and encouraged him.
And then he found him, lying facedown, unmoving in the dirt.
Isaac dropped to one knee beside him. He was certain Dan was dead. The bullet wound in his back looked lethal, and as bloodthirsty as the bandits had been, he was sure they’d wanted to make certain they’d left no witnesses. As he gently rolled his friend over to check him, he was shocked to hear Dan give a low groan.
“Dear God! Dan! You’re alive!”
Dan didn’t open his eyes, though, and Isaac could tell that he’d lost a lot of blood. He pressed his bandana against the most serious wound to staunch any blood flow. As carefully as he could, he lifted Dan and carried him to the stagecoach. He got him inside, along with the passenger and Asa, and then tied his own horse to the back of the stage before driving for town. He wanted to travel at breakneck speed, but he worried about tossing Dan around too much. When he got within range of Comanche Pass, he drew out the revolver and fired into the air.
Shorty heard the commotion, along with the rest of the folks in town, and they all came running.
“Get the doc! Call the sheriff! The stage was robbed!”
Everyone rushed to help as Isaac reined in the sweat-streaked horses.
“Dan’s still alive, but he’s in real bad shape! We gotta save him! Asa and the passenger are both dead,” Isaac said as he jumped down to help lift his friend from the coach. He and Shorty carried him toward the doctor’s office.
The doctor was as prepared as he could be for someone so seriously wounded. They brought Dan into the examining room and laid him face down on the table there, then left so the physician could tend to him.
Dr. Curtiss was careful as he cut away Dan’s clothing to examine his wounds. The shoulder wound was not deadly. The bullet had passed clean through and so presented no mortal danger. The shot in his back, though, was far more complicated.
“Isaac! I need your help in here,” the doctor called out.
Isaac had been waiting in the outer room talking with the sheriff from Comanche Pass, but at the doctor’s call he quickly went to his aid. “What do you need?”
“I want you to hold him down. I’ve got to try to probe for the bullet. I have to get it out of there or he’s a dead man for sure.”
Isaac nodded and held Dan’s shoulders down as, the physician began to explore the ugly wound. Dan made no move and uttered no sound. Isaac said a heartfelt prayer that his friend would survive as he watched the doctor work on him.
“Damn . . .” Curtiss muttered.
“What is it? Did you get it?”
“No,” he said angrily. “Not yet. It’s in a very dangerous place. I have to be careful, because I don’t know what damage has been done.”
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he began to probe the wound again, hoping and praying that he could get the bullet out. Each minute seemed like an hour as he worked desperately to save the man’s life. He had almost given up hope when he felt the deadly slug.
“I’ve got it!”
He knew it was nothing short of a miracle as he carefully worked the bullet from Dan’s body. He dropped the slug into a metal dish nearby, then quickly applied pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. It took him a few minutes more to cleanse and bandage the wound.
“Is he going to live?” Isaac asked worriedly.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to keep a close watch on him overnight.”
Isaac nodded, but said nothing as he looked down at his unconscious friend. Dan’s coloring was ashen, almost gray. If he hadn’t seen the rise and fall of his chest, Isaac might have believed that he was already dead.
“I can stay with him, if you need me to.”
“Thanks. We can take shifts.”
Dr. Curtiss made Dan as comfortable as po
ssible.
“I’ve got to send Shorty back to San Rafael to let everyone know what happened. Then I’ll be back,” Isaac told Curtiss.
“Fine. I appreciate the help.” He settled in to watch over Dan.
Isaac found Shorty and the sheriff waiting outside the doc’s office for some word of Dan’s condition.
“How is he? Is he dead?” Shorty asked worriedly. He’d gotten a good look at Dan when Isaac brought him in, and he’d thought he wouldn’t make it.
“He’s still hanging on. I need you to ride to San Rafael and tell Asa’s wife what happened.”
“I’ll leave right away.”
The sheriff spoke up. “First thing in the morning, Isaac, I want you to show me where the holdup took place. We can ride out at first light.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be glad to go with you just as soon as I know how Dan’s doing.”
“Good. I’ll come back for you then. You say whoever robbed the stage got the payroll?”
“Yes, that’s why both Dan and Asa were riding on this trip. They were our best, and if our best can’t stop them, I don’t know who can.”
“Don’t you worry. We’ll find the miserable bastards.”
“I hope you do, Sheriff. I hope you do.”
Isaac saw Shorty off, then returned to Curtiss’s office to watch and wait. It was going to be a long night, and he never stopped praying for his friend as the darkness settled over the land.
Shorty rode for San Rafael at breakneck speed. He made the trip in a little over six hours and arrived in town after midnight. He knew it was late, but he rushed straight to Asa Taylor’s house to find his wife and son. He hated being the bearer of such horrible news, but there was no easy or pretty way to deliver this message. As he pounded on the door at the darkened house, he saw a lamp glow upstairs and knew that he’d roused them from sleep. A minute later the door was thrown open, and Shorty found himself face-to-face with both Mrs. Taylor and her son, Ted.
“Who the hell are you, and why are you pounding on our door in the middle of the night?” Ted demanded, glaring at the dirty, rough-looking man who stood on the porch.
“The name’s Shorty, Mister. I work for the Taylors out of Comanche Pass—”
“Yes?”
“What’s wrong? Has something happened?” Mona asked, stepping forward into the lamplight. She was clad in a modest dressing gown, and her hand was at her throat clutching the sides of the garment together.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you.”
“What is it?” Terror sounded in her tone as she leaned toward her son for strength.
“There was another robbery—”
“Asa . . . How’s Asa?”
“Ma’am—” Shorty stopped, looking from the son’s taut face to the wife’s horrified expression.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. He was killed in the attack.”
“Oh, my God . . .” She swayed and Ted caught her against him.
“Come in,” he said curtly as he led his mother into the sitting room and helped her to the sofa.
Shorty followed nervously, his hat in his hands.
Ted sat down next to his mother, his arm around her, trying to calm her. “What happened? Has the law gone after them?”
“The law’s going out in the morning. They can’t track until then. Isaac was the one who found them. He went looking for the stage after they were late coming in.”
“What about Dan? How is Dan? And the passengers?” Mona asked, her voice weak and shaky as she held tightly to her son.
“There was only one passenger and he was killed. Dan’s alive, though, ma’am.”
“He’s alive!” They both almost shouted at the news.
Shorty understood their excitement. “It’s a real miracle! He was shot twice, and it still don’t look good for him. The doc worked on him and did what he could, but he doesn’t know if he’ll make it through the night or not.”
“I’d better ride for Comanche Pass,” Ted said, his tone and expression serious.
“You might as well get a couple hours’ rest, and I’ll ride back with you at sunup. We’ll make better time in daylight.”
“All right.”
“I want to go with you,” Mona insisted. “I need to be with Asa . . . and Dan.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll all ride out at daybreak.”
“Thank you, Shorty, for bringing us the news,” Ted said as he rose to see him to the door.
“I just wish I hadn’t had to come. Mr. Asa, he was a good friend to me. He never done anything mean to anybody. I don’t know why they had to go and kill him—” Shorty’s voice was choked as he expressed his sentiments. “I’ll go get a room over at the hotel, and I’ll be back at dawn.”
“Thank you,” Mona said softly, her eyes filled with tears of grief as she gazed at Shorty across the room.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
With that, he turned and left them. Ted closed the door softly behind him. He waited until he was certain that the man was out of earshot before he spoke.
“Son of a bitch!” he snarled. “I can’t believe the bastard’s still alive!”
“Well, at least I’m a widow!” she said, a note of hysterical laughter bubbling up. “Did I play my part well? Was I believable as the grieving wife?”
“Of course, Mother. I do believe you missed your calling. You’re a born actress. You should have taken to the stage. He believed you were devastated.”
“Good. Let them all believe it. Tomorrow we’ll make the trip into Comanche Pass and try to make certain that Dan doesn’t live to come home.”
“With any luck, he’ll be dead when we get there. That would save us a lot of trouble.”
“I can’t believe he lived through it. I thought you said you shot him point blank in the back.”
“I did, but like Shorty said, he may not make it through the night.”
“Good.” She was as pleased as she could be with the way things had gone. It certainly would have been better if both brothers had died, but this was close enough. Soon, very soon, she would have her wish and life would be worth living again.
Dan returned to consciousness slowly. He opened his eyes and stared around the dimly lighted room. He felt confused and panicky, for he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He tried to get up, to go find somebody, but he couldn’t. Pain wracked his shoulder at the effort, and with the pain came the memories.
“Asa,” he groaned, as images of the robbery, haunted him.
Isaac had gone home to get a few hours’ sleep, and Dr. Curtiss had taken over. He’d been dozing in a chair in the far corner of the room, but at the sound of Dan’s voice, he came immediately awake. He turned up the lamp and hurried to him. “Mr. Taylor?”
“Where am I?” Dan managed weakly.
“You’re in Comanche Pass. I’m Dr. Curtiss. They brought you in this afternoon. The stage was attacked and robbed.”
“My brother . . . How’s my brother?”
“We can talk about him later. Let’s—”
“No! I need to know how he is.” Dan drew upon all of his strength to demand an answer.
Curtiss could see the wild look in his eyes and knew there would be no lying to him or avoiding the truth. He already suspected the worst. “I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor. Your brother is dead.”
“No!” It was a cry of denial from the depths of his soul.
The doctor said nothing, but stayed by his patient, wanting to ease his agony, but knowing he couldn’t.
Dan closed his eyes against the pain of his loss. Asa . . . dead . . . The payroll gone. . . .
“Who found us?” His words were a whisper.
“One of the men who works for you—Isaac. He suspected something was wrong when you were running late, and he went looking for the stage. He brought you in and got you to me in time to save your life.”
Dan gave a weak nod and moaned at the pain the movement caused. “Good man.”
“Mr. T
aylor . . . Do you remember anything about the robbery or the shootings? Anything that might help the sheriff?” He knew the sheriff would be riding out early in the morning and any help he could give him was desperately needed.
But as Curtiss asked the question, Dan’s eyes closed and his head lolled to the side. Curtiss worried for a moment that he’d died, but when he checked, he found Dan was still breathing. He was relieved and sat back in his chair to await further changes in his patient’s condition.
“Where is he?” Mona asked as she entered the doc-tor’s office. The ride from San Rafael had been long and rough, but she was relieved to be in Comanche Pass, at last.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Curtiss.” He emerged from Dan’s room to greet her.
Ted had followed her into the office and stepped forward to shake his hand. “I’m Ted Carroll, and this is my mother, Mona Taylor, Asa’s wife. We just rode in from San Rafael. Shorty brought us the news late last night.”
“Mr. Carroll,” the doctor greeted him solemnly, shaking his hand. “Mrs. Taylor . . . I’m so sorry about your loss. When they brought your husband in yesterday, he was already gone.”
Tears filled Mona’s eyes as she clutched at Ted’s arm for support. “Shorty told us what happened. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe any of this. Where is my husband? I have to see him.”
“They took him on over to the undertaker’s, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
She choked back a sob. “And Dan . . . Is he any better?”
“He’s about the same. He came out of it for a few minutes, but then lost consciousness again.”
“Did he say anything? Anything at all that will help us find the ones who did this?” Ted asked quickly.
“No. He was too weak. He only asked about his brother.”
“Asa . . .” Mona said his name in a strained voice.
“Can we see Dan?” Ted asked, putting an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Is he going to make it?”
“I don’t know. Except for that minute or two of clarity last night, he’s been unconscious. He could die at any time.”
“How was he injured?” Mona asked.
“He was shot twice. Once in the shoulder, but that’s not the wound I’m worried about. He was shot again in the back. I got the bullet out, but it’s done a lot of damage. He’d lost a lot of blood, too, before they could get him in here.”
