by Tell Cotten
Winchester knew without a doubt that this warrior was No Worries. Even the way he sat on his horse displayed leadership.
His eyes went down the line. He counted eighteen Apaches, plus two captive women.
His curiosity grew as he studied the women. They were both young and looked sturdy. Even from afar, he could see their undeniable strength in their faces.
He felt a pinch of sympathy, but there was nothing he could do. The best way he could help was to reach that army post as fast as possible.
He avoided eye contact as the Apaches drew closer.
He didn’t know if it was true or not, but he’d heard that Indians could tell when the enemy was watching them, and he didn’t want to take that chance.
They were riding straight towards him, and sweat poured from his brow. Moving his hand slowly, he gripped his rifle in anticipation.
With his finger on the trigger, he watched No Worries’ face. Any second now he expected to be spotted. If he had to die, he was determined to take No Worries with him.
But then, No Worries turned his horse to the side. He was following an old trail, and he was only twenty yards or so from Winchester as he passed by.
Winchester didn’t even breathe. They were so close he could smell them, and he suddenly realized that he needed to spit out a stream of tobacco.
Unexpectedly, an Apache warrior jumped from his horse. He was shirtless, and his stout, built muscles rippled as he ran in the direction of Winchester. His eyes glowed with triumph, and he held a wooden club, ready to strike.
A surge of fear passed through Winchester, but he remained still. He pulled the hammer back on his rifle and waited.
The Apache stopped abruptly only a short distance from him. He swung his club, and Winchester heard a loud thump, followed by a grunt of satisfaction.
Winchester blinked as the Apache bent over. When he straightened up, Winchester spotted the chuckwalla lizard in his hand.
The Apache uttered a chilling, high-pitched war cry, and then he sprinted back to his horse.
Winchester was startled, but he somehow managed to stay still. Seconds later, he realized that he had swallowed his tobacco. He felt the strong urge to cough, but he forced himself not to.
The band of Apaches grew smaller as they traveled on. They were heading towards the mountains, and they finally became blurs and then disappeared in the distance.
Only then did Winchester move. He rose to one knee, put on his hat, and took a careful look around.
He saw or heard nothing, so he stood and headed for the tank. He yearned for a cool drink of water to quench his nagging thirst.
He covered ground quickly with his long strides. The tank was just ahead, and he could almost smell the water.
Winchester heard a faint noise, and he dropped flat. He scarcely breathed as he listened, but he didn’t hear anything else.
He raised his head and looked around. He saw nothing, so he crawled over to some rocks. He took a peek between them, and he spotted three Indian ponies. They were beside the tank, tied to some trees.
Beyond the tank, at the top of the hill, were three Apaches. They had dug in, and their backs were to him as they watched their back trail intently.
Winchester took in a big breath and sighed silently.
Chapter thirty-one
Winchester didn’t move for a long time, and neither did the Apaches.
His mind worked furiously as he thought on the situation.
He finally came to the conclusion that someone must be following the Apaches. He figured these Apaches had been left to keep watch, and to give No Worries fair warning when they were spotted.
In a way, this pleased Winchester. All he had to do now was follow the tracks until he ran into whoever was following the Apaches. Hopefully, he could borrow a horse and continue on to the army outpost.
Winchester gave a long, lustful look at the tank of water. He was tempted to crawl over and fill his canteen, but he quickly dismissed this idea.
If spotted, he might be able to take on one or even two Apaches, but not three.
Being as quiet as possible, he slid backwards until he could no longer see the Apaches or the tank. Then he waited, listening for any sound.
He heard nothing, and Winchester grunted softly in satisfaction. He rose to one knee and uncapped his canteen.
He took two, long swallows. The water was lukewarm, but it tasted mighty good. He swished it around his mouth some before swallowing, and he sighed wistfully as he recapped his empty canteen.
“It’ll have to do,” he said softly.
Winchester rose to his full height. He took a slow, careful look around, and then he moved out in his relentless trot.
He took no chances. He circled out at least half a mile, and then he made his way back to the tracks.
They were easy to follow, and his moccasins hardly made any sound at all with his long, reaching strides.
For some reason, Winchester felt a great urgency to reach whoever was following the Apaches. He sensed that something important was about to happen, and he quickened his pace.
Part Four
“Strained Family Reunion”
Chapter thirty-two
The days flew by, and their routine never changed. Before they knew it, nearly three weeks had passed.
They were now deep in the New Mexico Territory. They could see the mountains, and they looked hazy and dark blue.
Since finding the dead woman, everyone’s moods had darkened even more. But, nobody discussed it. Instead, they just focused on the task at hand.
Rondo, Lee, and Jeremiah hardly talked at all, and Lee and Jeremiah wouldn’t even look at each other. Everybody could feel the tension building between them.
On this particular day, Jeremiah rode beside Yancy. His face was heavy and mulish.
From time to time, Yancy glanced sideways at him. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“You all right?”
“Sure. Why do you ask?” Jeremiah replied abruptly.
“Only because of the miserable look on your face.”
Jeremiah looked away and sighed.
“Is it obvious?”
“Is to me,” Yancy said. A few seconds passed, and he asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“You really want to know?”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
Jeremiah hesitated, but then explained, “This is all my fault.”
“How’s that?” Yancy raised an eyebrow.
“If I hadn’t been pressing so hard for April’s hand in marriage, she would have been with me when the attack happened. And, if she had been with me, she and Rachel wouldn’t have been out riding.”
“There’s a lot of ‘ifs’ in there,” Yancy objected.
“And now, she could be dead,” Jeremiah declared.
“We don’t know that.”
“But it’s possible.”
“Anything is,” Yancy tried again.
“I keep praying April is alive. But that makes me feel guilty, because if she is alive, that means Rachel’s not.”
“You’re being mighty hard on yourself.”
“Do you want to know what really irritates me?” Jeremiah continued as he ignored Yancy’s comment.
“Might as well.”
“She doesn’t even love me. She loves him,” Jeremiah nodded ahead at Lee. “I changed my ways. Been living right, doing things honest, and she never even noticed.”
“I hate to admit it, but so has Lee.”
Jeremiah grunted at that, and several seconds passed.
“Is April the reason you changed?” Yancy finally asked.
Jeremiah thought a moment.
“Mostly.”
“Then you’re looking at it all wrong.”
“How’s that?” Jeremiah shot Yancy a dark look.
“Change because you want to. Do it for yourself, and you’ll notice.”
“What about April?”
“If she hasn’t no
ticed, then she might not be the one for you,” Yancy said bluntly. “That’s something you’ll have to deal with.”
“And if I can’t?”
“April isn’t the only woman out there. You keep doing things honest, stay out of trouble, and the right woman will come along and take notice.”
Jeremiah pinched his face in thought.
“What if no other woman will do?”
“Then you and Lee might have a problem,” Yancy replied.
Jeremiah frowned, and it was silent for a bit.
“What you say makes sense, somewhat,” he finally admitted.
“Thanks,” Yancy said wryly.
“Must be a moral in there someplace. I’ll think on it.”
“You do that,” Yancy said.
Chapter thirty-three
They made camp that night in amongst a small cluster of trees. After supper, they sat around the campfire. Nobody talked as they thought their own thoughts.
By now, even Yancy was tiring of the silence. He glanced at Cooper and cleared his throat.
“Are we closing the gap any?”
“Not much,” Cooper shook his head. “We’re three, four days behind. Mebbe more.”
“So, we ain’t gonna catch them until we reach the mountains,” Lee spoke up, stating the obvious.
“Unless we ride into an ambush,” Cooper warned.
“What if they split up? What’ll we do then?” Lee wanted to know.
“Yancy and I know where their summer camp is,” Cooper replied. “They’ll probably go there.”
“Then what?”
“Then we’ll see,” Yancy said.
“How big is this camp?” Rondo entered the conversation.
“Biggest one I’ve ever seen,” Yancy replied.
“Long and narrow?”
“Sorta,” Yancy nodded. “It’s spread out beside a river, down in a valley.”
Rondo looked thoughtful.
“A diversion of some sort might work,” he suggested.
“Perhaps,” Yancy said.
Suddenly, Cooper tilted his head. He made a motion to be quiet, and several seconds passed.
“What is it?” Jeremiah hissed.
“I heard something,” Cooper replied, and he glanced at Yancy. “Somebody’s out there.”
Yancy didn’t question it. If Cooper hadn’t been sure, he wouldn’t have said anything.
“Spread out,” Yancy hissed.
Everybody drew their Colts and backed into the darkness.
A long minute passed, and everybody listened hard.
“Hello the camp!” A hoarse voice suddenly called out, and everyone was surprised at how close he was.
“Who’s out there?” Yancy demanded.
“Just a weary stranger.”
“Come on in,” Yancy said. “But move slow.”
Out of the dark, a lone man came walking in. He was tall and rawboned, his jaw square and his mouth firm. In one hand he carried a Winchester, but he held it low, being careful not to show any hostility.
Yancy frowned as he studied him. He was vaguely familiar, but Yancy couldn’t place him.
“Lose your horse?” Yancy asked.
“Some miles back,” he said.
His eyes went over everyone in camp, and then he looked back at Yancy.
“I’m Winchester, Apache scout.”
“Heard of you,” Yancy said, and there was disapproval in his voice.
Winchester had quite the reputation.
He was known all across the New Mexico Territory and Arizona Territory. He had killed several men in gunfights, and his eagerness to kill was feared by many.
He had become an Apache scout for the army to avoid jail time. As a scout, he had quickly gained a reputation for his recklessness and roughness.
“I’m a mite thirsty,” Winchester said. “It’s been a while since my last swig.”
Cooper tossed him a canteen, and he drank like a man who had been lost in the desert for days without water.
He sighed wistfully as he lowered the canteen. He coughed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“’Preciate it,” he said, and he offered the canteen back to Cooper.
“Keep it.”
“Thanks. I will.”
“Hungry?” Cooper asked.
“I could eat.”
“Got some coffee and salt pork,” Cooper gestured at the fire.
Winchester nodded his head in acceptance, so Cooper filled a plate, poured some coffee, and handed it to him.
He sat cross-legged by the fire and wolfed it down.
Everybody had questions, but nobody spoke. Instead, they waited patiently.
Several minutes passed, and Winchester heaved a sigh of satisfaction. He placed his empty plate to the side, refilled his coffee cup, and glanced up at everyone.
“That tasted mighty good,” he said.
“Glad you liked it,” Cooper replied.
Yancy had been watching him with his face pinched in thought. Suddenly, he grunted in surprise.
“You’re not Winchester,” he accused.
“I beg your pardon?” He stood and shot Yancy a dark look.
“You’re August Landon.”
Surprise showed in his eyes.
“How’d you figure that?”
“Because I’m Yancy Landon.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Winchester said, surprised. “How ’bout that.”
Several seconds passed as everybody thought on that, and Lee cleared his throat and looked at Yancy.
“Let me get this straight,” Lee said. “Winchester is your cousin?”
“Looks like,” Yancy said, and he scowled at the thought.
Despite his foul mood, Lee almost smiled.
Chapter thirty-four
“I thought you looked sorta familiar,” Winchester told Yancy. “You’ve changed since the war.”
“So have you,” Yancy replied.
Winchester smiled at that.
“I reckon we all have,” he said, and then he turned to Cooper. “You must be Cooper.”
“That’s right,” Cooper said, and they shook hands.
“Who’s this?” Winchester turned to Rondo.
“I’m Rondo Landon.”
“I figured you was,” Winchester looked pleased. “I’ve heard about that ivory handled Colt. We almost met once.”
“We did?” Rondo looked interested.
Winchester didn’t explain as he turned to Lee, and it was silent while they studied each other.
“You have the look of a Landon too,” Winchester finally said. “But, I can’t place you.”
“Landon? Me?” Lee snorted. “I’m not a Landon. My name’s Lee Mattingly.”
Winchester whistled his admiration.
“I’ve heard of you. You have quite the reputation.”
“So do you,” Lee replied.
“I get around,” Winchester grinned.
Next, Cooper introduced Jeremiah and Brian, and they nodded at each other.
“August,” Yancy spoke back up. “What are you doing out here?”
“My name is Winchester,” he corrected gruffly.
“That’s not the name your parents gave you.”
“I despise my real name,” he retorted. “I wasn’t even born in August.”
They frowned at each other, and several seconds passed.
“You were always coming up with nicknames when we were younger,” Yancy recalled.
“That’s right.”
“I figured you might have grown up by now,” Yancy said.
Winchester narrowed his eyes and thrust out his jaw.
“What do you mean by that remark?”
“Just that.”
“And you always had a bad habit of speaking your mind,” Winchester accused.
Before Yancy could reply, Cooper jumped in and changed the subject.
“How’d you come up with Winchester?” He asked.
Winchester stared at Yancy for a moment m
ore, and then he glanced at Cooper.
“I had to cover a feller with my rifle a while back,” he explained. “The feller said, ‘Hey Winchester, watch where you’re pointing that thing’, and it sorta stuck.”
“How’s your brother, Quincy?” Cooper asked.
“Haven’t seen him.”
“Oh? Is he alive?” Cooper looked concerned.
“Last I heard he was.”
Cooper nodded, relieved.
“Just how many Landons are there?” Lee entered the conversation, and he looked confused.
“Just Quincy,” Cooper explained. “You see, our Pa had two brothers named Walt and Noley. Walt was the oldest, and Noley was nine years younger. You remember him.”
“Rondo’s Pa,” Lee nodded. “He was a good man.”
“Walt had three sons,” Cooper continued. “Quincy is the oldest, and August is the youngest.”
“Winchester,” Winchester corrected, irritation in his voice.
“What happened to the middle son?” Lee asked.
“He got washed away in a flood when we were youngsters,” Cooper explained.
Lee was obviously startled.
“Washed away?”
“Yep, and they never found him,” Cooper said, and then he continued. “Anyhow, Quincy is a bit older than me. Then it’s me, Yancy, August, and Rondo.”
“Winchester,” he corrected again.
“Yes, Winchester,” Cooper looked at him and frowned.
Lee looked thoughtful. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he chose not to.
“So, Winchester,” Yancy spoke up, emphasizing his name. “How’d you lose your horse?”
“It’s a long story,” Winchester replied, and asked, “Anybody got a chaw of tobacco?”
They all shook their heads.
“I’m a cigar man,” Lee explained.
“Nasty habit,” Winchester scolded.
“And chewing tobacco ain’t?”
They scowled at each other for several seconds.
“I’m not sure I like you,” Winchester finally said.
Lee glanced at Jeremiah and looked back at him.
“Get in line,” he said sourly.
Chapter thirty-five
