Gringo Wade

by Tony Masero

  A flask of crude brandy had been placed in Brewster’s hand and he drew a deep draught from the neck.

  “Shut your mouth!” he snapped. “Split my back and whipped me like a dog in front of them greasers. Me, a Master’s Mate. I’ll not forget it. Mister High-and-Mighty Darby’ll lose more than his daughter before I’m through, you’ll see.”

  “Ach!” said Bowley in disgust. “I know it ain’t right but take it like a man, will you? If you need a woman at least wait until you can get a Mex whore instead of trying to pork a child.”

  “She’ll come back a full grown woman now,” growled Brewster, mean bitterness stamped across his face. “By the time them savages have finished with her the bitch’ll be walking bowlegged the rest of her life with not a white man who’d care to look at her for damaged goods.”

  ++++++++++

  Gringo’s sharp ears heard Ellen’s distant high-pitched scream and the following sound of laughter.

  “You hear that?” he asked the others.

  “The savages are laughing,” said Allumette in disgust. “They think our fate is amusing.”

  The three of them crouched ready behind boulders, the little girls and the livestock were gathered behind them at the rear of the canyon that formed the rock wall around the water hole.

  “They will not laugh so much if they come down here,” promised Judas, cocking his musket noisily.

  “It will not be just yet,” advised Gringo. “Later. Maybe tonight. The Apache favor the early hours, we must be ready then.”

  Even as he spoke the Indians were dispersing, working their way around the grouped white men. Masters of camouflage the Apache crept and crawled patiently in a wide semi-circle, slowly closing in on the three mountain men. Unseen by the white men, it took them hours of careful patience and it was only as the great heated ball of an orange sun finally set into a golden horizon that they were positioned.

  Asesino had taken up a post to the front of the canyon, with Nachez and Cuchillo spread wide to each side of him. The shaman and the Mescalero had moved to either side of the canyon entrance and it was With Eagle Glance that climbed high and finally overlooked the mountain men’s position.

  As the light dwindled, the shaman counted the figures below and saw the animals moving restlessly at the rear. With a bone flute, he communicated the information back to Asesino in a series of whistle notes. Once the war chief understood they had the advantage of numbers he gave a prolonged owl hoot so that all his men would know that the attack would go ahead. The sound rose and fell with realistic eeriness as if the creature was actually hovering somewhere nearby amongst the evening shadows.

  “An owl, so early?” asked Allumette.

  “I don’t think so,” answered Gringo. “They are talking to each other. Planning their moves.”

  “We need some light,” growled Judas, peering into the gloom.

  “That’s a fact,” agreed Gringo. “Why not collect anything you can find and we’ll start a blaze.”

  Whilst Gringo kept watch, Judas and Allumette gathered what dry wood and brush they could discover in the canyon and, not wanting to be blinded by the light once fired, piled it in two heaps in the space between their positions. With flint on steel, Allumette lit some strands of flax he carried for the purpose and soon had one of the fires alight.

  “Leave the other one,” ordered Gringo. “We’ll need it later.”

  The fire gave them an aura of light in front of their position and split the darkening night giving some sense of security to the defenders.

  “Now what?” asked Allumette.

  “We wait,” said Gringo simply.

  The three settled down, their primed weapons arrayed alongside them. Muskets in hand with pistols propped ready and knives stuck in the sand to be grasped in the advent of any hand-to-hand fighting.

  Gringo whirled as he heard the whisper of sound behind him.

  A small figure stood there, barely visible in the dim light.

  “What are you doing, Lucy?” Gringo asked the little girl, relieved it was nothing more dangerous than one of the rescued children. “I thought I told you both to stay with the animals.”

  “I’m frightened, Mister Gringo,” Lucy confessed.

  “What about, Mary Jane?” he asked. “You have her to keep you company.”

  “She has gone to sleep,” the girl said.

  The blessings of youth - thought Gringo. He looked at the little creature, shivering slightly in the cooling air and he relented. “Come here then,” he said. “Stay with me a while and then you must go back.”

  She ran to him and snuggled into his arms. Despite their predicament, Gringo had to admit to himself that he enjoyed the protective feeling he offered the child. It was a natural sensation and as he kept her safe within the circle of his clasped musket he felt a strangely paternal connection with the little girl.

  “You must be very quiet,” he told her in a whisper.

  “I know,” she whispered back. “The bad men are out there.”

  Gringo smiled to himself. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We will not let them come in here.”

  “You are very brave,” she observed suddenly. “How is it you are so brave, Mister Gringo?”

  “Hah!” he breathed a quiet laugh. “Brave, is it? No, little one, I am just used to it. Once you have been in such a position before, it is easy. You know you can do these things then.”

  “Well,” she dismissed his self-effacing answer. “I think you are very brave. You are truly like the man in Mama’s picture book, as I knew you would be.”

  Gringo frowned. “That was not me, Lucy. That was just a story somebody made up and used my name.”

  “I know that,” she said proudly. “I am not a baby. It was just a pretend story tale, my Mama told me that.”

  Gringo chuckled and hugged her tight. “You are a very smart little girl, Lucy.”

  He heard the sound then and quickly placed a hand across the girl’s mouth.

  “You hear it?” whispered Judas hoarsely.

  “What is it?” asked Allumette.

  “Harness,” said Judas. “Riders coming.”

  They heard the jingle becoming louder and the thudding hooves of approaching horses as they reached the cresting dunes before the canyon, then pulled to a halt.

  “Ola!” came a call from out of the night and four horsemen carrying long spears approached cautiously down the slope and into the firelight.

  “Mexican lancers,” said Judas, recognizing their uniforms.

  Before they could offer a warning there was a ear splitting scream and at the periphery of the firelight, the mountain men saw dusty figures leap up from their hiding places alongside the troop. Horses whirled in terror and knives flashed in the darkness. The surprised lancers were pulled from their mounts as screaming Apaches dragged the men down and dispatched them swiftly with war clubs and tomahawks. One lancer successfully turned away and laid in his spurs but an arrow coming from somewhere above the mountain men’s position, accurately found the lancer’s exposed spine and he spread his arms and fell from his lurching pony.

  Judas opened fire on the Indians and Allumette quickly followed with a blast from his own musket. Gringo laid Lucy aside and covered her with his body as he sought the position of the bowman above them but he could see nothing in the darkness.

  It was over in seconds. The Indians grasped the trooper’s loose reins and throwing themselves aboard rode off into the night before Judas and Allumette could reload.

  “Not one!” snarled Judas. “We did not hit one of the murdering bastards.”

  “Beware!” warned Gringo pointing, “There is another one above us up there.”

  “He is mine,” growled Judas, dropping his musket and drawing the tomahawk from his belt as he slipped off into the shadowy rocks. He was gone before Gringo could call him back. Biting back a curse at Judas’ recklessness Gringo turned to the girl.

  “Are you alright, Lucy?” he asked softly.
/>   She frowned up at him. “You squashed me,” she complained.

  “I’m sorry,” he smiled down at her. “I was trying to keep you safe.”

  “Are they gone now?”

  “For the moment,” Gringo answered. “But we must still be careful.”

  “Those lancers?” Allumette called across, a question implicit in his tone.

  “I think they are all done for,” said Gringo, peering at the still shapes laid out amongst the settling dust.

  “Do you think there will be more about?” Allumette asked.

  Gringo shrugged. “Who knows, maybe they were from that wagon train we saw the tracks for earlier.”

  “Poor souls,” said Allumette. “It must have been our fire that brought them in.”

  Gringo nodded agreement. “Well, we are still in the same position ourselves so best keep a sharp eye out.”

  ++++++++++

  Panting with excitement Asesino, Nachez and Cuchillo dismounted back at their original meeting place. Tempo came running in to greet them as they shared their success in a flurry of wild statements of personal courage.

  “Hah!” cried Nachez. “I have killed a Mexican. Did you see? With one blow from my club.”

  “And I,” butted in Cuchillo. “Another, with my knife.”

  “Good! It was good!” agreed Asesino, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Where is With Eagle Glance,” he asked, turning to Tempo.

  “He comes,” said the Mescalero. “It was his arrow that took the last Mexican.”

  “Yes, a victory and we have their horses.”

  “Now we are ready,” stormed Nachez. “We shall sweep over the last white men down there and take back our cattle and horses.”

  With Eagle Glance interrupted them as he came limping in out of the night. “It may not be that easy,” he managed before dropping to the ground and cradling his leg.

  “What is it?” asked Asesino.

  “A tomahawk cut. The warrior white man, he found me in the rocks. I heard him disturb some loose stones and almost managed to escape but he cut my leg before I could get away.”

  “Let me see,” said Asesino, kneeling to take the shaman’s leg in his hands. The cut was deep across the outside of the lower leg, between knee and shin and the leg looked black with blood in the darkness. Judas’ razor sharp tomahawk blade had sliced easily through the moccasin boot and leggings to hew into With Eagle Glance’s limb.

  “You did well to get back here,” Asesino observed, as he tightened his headband about the wound.

  “That one is a devil,” said With Eagle Glance ruefully. “He is guided by a ghost spirit and is powered by a mighty anger. It was fear of him that drove me on.”

  “In the morning we will find the web of the spider and bind it in to heal the cut.”

  “I fear I will be of little use now,” confessed With Eagle Glance as he drank greedily from his water flask.

  “You will use your bow, that you can do from a distance.”

  “Huh!” grunted the shaman in agreement. “It will be so.”

  +++++++++++

  In the pre-dawn light the Indians again made their way into their attack positions around the water hole. This time though, With Eagle Glance, armed with a bow and quiver of arrows, dragged his wounded leg to the left of Asesino’s central spot, with Nachez taking himself to the heights above the white men’s camp. Cuchillo lay at Asesino’s right and the Mescalero moved back to his old place at the canyon entrance. They waited for the signal.

  Within their defensive position, Gringo watched as the embers of their second bonfire died away. He looked to the horizon and gauged the lightening sky. It would not be long now before daylight and he wondered at the Apache’s delay.

  Gringo looked down at the sleeping figure of Lucy still cradled in his arms. He smiled fondly at her peaceful features and wished he could emulate them. Instead he felt only his own unshaven chin and the grit of the desert that lined the worried skin of his face. He glanced across at the two figures of Judas and Allumette.

  The Frenchman sat resting his back against a boulder, fingers idly twisting the ends of his wire thin moustache and staring dreamily towards the forms of their boxed-in horses just visible in the dim light. Judas, crouching beyond him, like Gringo, remained tense and ready, his gaze fixed on the open ground before them.

  At last the sun made its entrance into the new day. Its brightness crested the horizon in a dazzle of cold white light that sparkled and rushed across the desert.

  A piercing scream startled the defenders. Allumette jumped at the sound, his jerking fingers disturbing the carefully styled line of his moustache. With a curse his one good eye stared down at the bent offender before he snatched up his musket and turned to face the enemy.

  Asesino leapt up from his hiding place, shedding the horse blanket he had covered with dust and starting a run across the mountain men’s front. He leapt and bounded, zigzagging in a run to draw their fire.

  Allumette fired first, his ball starting a fountain of dust at the Apache’s fleeing feet. Judas next but his ball whined off into the distance as Asesino ducked and weaved. As he ran back across their front, yipping wildly, Gringo took careful aim, following Asesino’s run and leading slightly with his musket’s barrel. Lucy, trying to see what was happening, moved under him as he fired. Her movement disturbed the shot and the ball smacked loudly into the flying tail of Asesino’s vest but did him no damage. It was the signal the Apache had waited for. All three had fired and now would have to reload their muskets.

  The band of Apache’s rose from their hiding places and whooping their war cries ran forward in a charge.

  “Here they come!” bellowed Judas.

  Out in the open the Apaches, victory apparently within their grasp, were met with a sudden withering fire that came from above them amongst the high rocks of the canyon.

  Tempo, the Mescalero spun away in mid-run as a ball exploded one side of his head in a bloody mist of red. Cuchillo buckled and dropped quickly as more than one ball ripped through his running body. Nachez, war club in hand, launched himself from his position in the rocks above Judas and was flipped sideways in mid-flight as a well aimed shot caught him and twisted him over to land hard in a bone crushing smack on the cruel rocks below.

  Only two members of the band, With Eagle Glance and Asesino survived the first devastating fusillade.

  With Eagle Glance lifted himself, gritting his teeth in pain from his wounded leg as he knelt and drew back his bowstring. More shots echoed down the canyon from the hidden marksmen and the shaman twisted and bucked as the balls found him, his arrow flying skywards in a lost arc.

  Asesino looked around wildly at his fallen companions before quickly leaping sideways and running for cover, the dust around him jumping and exploding as shots followed his passage. As if leading a miraculously safe and charmed life he jagged his way amongst the dunes and disappeared unharmed from sight.

  Calls of success echoed down from the heights above and the three looked upwards in bemused wonder. There, dark shapes extricated themselves from their hiding places and stood arrayed on the skyline above, Wild looking men in fringed buckskin waving smoking muskets above their heads.

  “Ho! Gringo Wade,” came the call. “Your sorry ass is saved.”

  This was followed by hearty cheers and a series of jeering catcalls.

  “It’s La Touquet and the others,” gasped Gringo.

  “Mon Dieu!” breathed Allumette. “Where did they come from?”

  “They may be an ugly and dirty bunch of rogues,” growled Judas, a slight grin quirking his otherwise grim features. “But right now, I think they are angels from heaven.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “It was the smoke from your fires,” explained Le Touquet. “We smelt the smoke and came to find the source.”

  “We are lucky you did,” said Gringo thankfully.

  A bustling crowd of mountain men gathered around and a great deal of grinning and backslapping
went on. They were obviously all best pleased to see Allumette as his cooking had been sorely missed.

  As they gathered, catching up on events, through the throng pushed the elderly figure of Hermano Ibispo, he lunged forward and before Gringo could stop him the Mexican had grasped Gringo’s hand in his and kissed it fervently.

  “Thank you, senor. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. The return of the horses will save my family from great distress. It is a miracle.”

  He waved in delight at the horse herd still stomping nervously in the box canyon.

  Embarrassed, Gringo withdrew his hand quickly. “It was nothing and besides I was not alone, my friends here deserve the greater credit.” Gringo waved in the general direction of Judas and Allumette.

  Ibispo turned, beaming at the two men, “Of course, of course, I thank you all. My prayers will be with you always.”

  They were interrupted by a cry from the dunes as a few men checking on the dead Indians made a discovery.

  “A woman!” observed Le Touquet in surprise as they arrived with a both tearful and joyful Ellen now free of her bonds. Looking somewhat disheveled and still in her nightgown, someone hurriedly handed her a blanket to cover herself with.

  “So glad, so glad,” she gasped. “How can I ever thank you all.”

  “Well, my dear,” said Le Touquet, gallantly sweeping off his hat. “You must tell us where you came from in this wilderness. But first, Allumette, once our supply wagonette has caught up, let us slay one of these fine cows and enjoy a feast of good beef for we are all heartily sick of desert rodent stew, what do you say?”

  Allumette bowed proudly, “My pleasure, Boosway.”

  The idea was met with general loud approval and the men busily began setting up camp.

  “Well,” said Le Touquet, turning to Ellen once the men were engaged. “I am Captain Le Touquet, the leader of our little expedition and this fellow here is my scout, Gringo Wade.”