Ralph Compton Whiskey River

by Compton, Ralph

  “So will I,” said Suggs.

  Estrello said nothing. The proof was undeniable, and when the two returned, he would give them hell, making of them an example for the other outlaws.

  “Damn it,” said Suggs, “it was black as the inside of a stovepipe last night. Couldn’t see nothin’. Besides, how do you know it didn’t happen on the second watch?”

  “Too much whiskey’s been wasted,” Estrello said. “With that and what the Indian took, the barrel must be near empty. I want the two of you to get in the wagon, get to that leaking barrel, and set it out here. We’ll plug the hole and save any whiskey that’s left.”

  “Get us some help,” said Irvin. “That’s a hell of a lot of work for two men.”

  “Two men stood by and let it happen,” Estrello said. “Now get started.”

  In silent fury the two outlaws began their task while Estrello watched. They had to remove four full barrels before they reached the leaking barrel.

  “Move it down here upside-down,” said Estrello.

  When that had been done, Estrello cut off a piece of a dead pine limb as big as his thumb. With his knife he fashioned a wooden stopper that he drove into the hole where the barrel had been leaking. Using the butt of his Colt, he drove the stopper in as tightly as he could. From the wagon box he then took a small crowbar and pried the lid off the whiskey keg. They could see the bottom of the keg, for there wasn’t more than a gallon or two of the murky liquid remaining.

  “Nail something over that hole in the bed of the wagon,” Estrello ordered, “and then reload the four barrels you took out. Bring that near empty one with you. I want all the others to see what happens when a man on watch is doin’ something else.”

  Aware that their ordeal wasn’t over, the furious duo began wrestling the heavy kegs of whiskey back into the wagon. Finished, they leaned on the wagon’s tailgate, trying to catch their wind.

  “He still can’t be sure that happened on our watch,” Suggs said.

  “Ah, hell,” said Irvin, “he’s right. There’s too much whiskey gone through that little hole. It had to drip for most of the night, and we don’t know how much the Indian got.”

  Seizing the nearly empty keg, they took it with them. Some of the outlaws who didn’t particularly like either man were grinning. Estrello looked grim.

  “I want every man of you to look in there,” Estrello ordered. “Stackler, that includes you and your bunch.”

  Estrello removed the keg’s lid, waiting for them all to file past the keg for a look. Ed and his companions waited until the rest of the men had finished.

  “Stackler,” said Wilder, “how could that damn dog of yours allow an Indian to sneak in that close? Where was the varmint when he could have been useful?”

  “Likely tryin’ to catch himself somethin’ to eat,” Ed said. “So what? It was Suggs and Irvin who had guns and were supposed to be watching that wagon.”

  “He’s dead right,” said Estrello. “Tonight, Tilden and Worsham will move to the first watch, while Suggs and Irvin go to the second with me. Let down your guard for just one minute, and I’ll be watching. If this happens again, whoever’s responsible can saddle up and ride out. That is, if I don’t kill him first.”

  None of the outlaws were smiling, for the ultimatum had been directed at them all. Not until Bill, Mark, and their companions returned to their camp did any of them speak.

  “The Indian couldn’t have taken much whiskey,” said Betsy. “The rest just leaked out.”

  “That the Indian took any whiskey at all is bad news,” Mark said. “Now they know what these wagons are loaded with, and they won’t be satisfied sneaking around in the dark, stealing a little at a time.”

  Mark’s prophecy came to pass before the end of the day. The wagons had moved on, covering maybe twelve miles, and the wary outfit stopped for the night an hour before sundown.

  “Here come the Indians!” one of the outlaws suddenly shouted.

  The outlaws seized their Winchesters. Mark, Bill, and their companions made no hostile moves, for the Indians were headed for the main camp, where Estrello waited.

  “That looks like some of the same Indians Estrello’s been selling to,” said Amanda. “The big Indian with the crooked nose is Broken Nose. He’s always managed to get a keg of whiskey for his own use. We may not get to the Washita. Estrello may have to sell to them right here.”

  “I don’t see any packhorses of pelts and no horses or mules to trade,” Bill said. “It’s possible they aim to just take the whiskey without paying.”

  “My God,” said Vernon, “there’s enough of them to kill us all ten times over. If they decide to fight, are we siding Estrello and his bunch?”

  “We’ll have no choice,” Ed said. “They’ve seen us on the wagon boxes, and as far as they’re concerned, we’re part of the Estrello gang.”

  The horde of Indians separated. Twenty or more of them paused within a few yards of Mark, Bill, and their companions. The larger body rode on, coming face-to-face with Estrello and the rest of the gang. Estrello said nothing, waiting. Broken Nose spoke.

  “Want whiskey.”

  “The whiskey’s for sale when we reach the Washita,” said Estrello.

  “Want whiskey now,” Broken Nose said.

  “Sell whiskey for pelts, horses, and mules on Washita,” said Estrello.

  “No pelt, no horse, no mule,” Broken Nose said. “Want whiskey now.”

  Broken Nose wore a single feather in his hair, and suddenly, when a Colt roared, the feather disappeared. Quick as a cat, Estrello moved, smashing his fist into Wilder’s snarling face. Wilder went down, dropping the Colt. Broken Nose and his companions had not moved. The Indian spoke again, this time more demanding.

  “Want Whiskey. You give.”

  “No,” said Estrello. “We sell whiskey at the Washita.”

  Broken Nose wheeled his horse and rode toward the west, his companions following.

  “Now what?” Hiram wondered.

  “We get ready for a fight,” said Estrello. “Some of those Indians are the same ones who have been buying from us on the Washita. What the hell’s happened to them?”

  “They’re actin’ like they know that this is the last of the whiskey,” Schorp said.

  Wilder sat up, rubbing his jaw.

  “You hotheaded son-of-a-bitch, I should shoot you,” Estrello said. “Next time, I will.”

  “We’ll have to fight anyway,” said Wilder, “unless you aim to give ’em the whiskey.”

  “We may have to fight,” Estrello said, “but only a damn fool hurries it up.”

  “For a minute, there, I thought all of us were dead,” said Todd.

  “We would have been, but for one thing,” Nick said. “Indians want an edge, to strike when they’re least expected. They didn’t like the odds.”

  “Nick’s right,” said Ed. “They’re more likely to jump us on the trail at first light, or near sundown, when we’re give out.”

  “Do we just wait on them to come after us?” Betsy asked.

  “If I had any choice, I wouldn’t,” said Vernon.

  “Neither would I,” Mark said. “They left a trail we can follow in the dark. Our only hope is to get them before they get us.”

  “Kill them all?” asked Amanda.

  “No,” Mark said. “An attack against such numbers would be foolish. The Comanches once trapped a few Texans, including me. We didn’t have a chance, but during the night, we found that Comanche camp and scattered their horses to hell and gone. While the whole lot of them was afoot, looking for their horses, we saddled up and got the hell out of there.”

  “It makes sense to me,” said Ed, “but do you aim to suggest it to Estrello? The less trouble we have, and the sooner we reach the Washita, the sooner this bunch will cut our string.”

  “We may have to,” Mark said, “to save our own hides. Trouble is, if we stampede the horses, leaving that many Indians afoot, can we make it to the Washita before they fi
nd their mounts and come after us?”

  “I have my doubts,” said Lee. “We’ve been on the trail three days, and I doubt we’ve covered more than ten miles a day. If we take their horses, we’ll really give this bunch somethin’ to fight about, once they catch up to us.”

  “It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Mark said. “We can’t save ourselves without saving the rest of these varmints. I’ll talk to Estrello.”

  They watched Mark approach the band of outlaws.

  “Estrello,” said Mark, “I need to talk to you in private.”

  An uproar of shouting and cursing erupted among the outlaws, but Estrello ignored them. He nodded in agreement, following Mark toward the wagons. Quickly, Mark told the outlaw leader of his plan to leave the Indians afoot.

  “I like that,” Estrello said. “If it comes to a fight, we’re finished. Have you done this before?”

  “Once, in Texas,” said Mark. “The trick is to run their horses far enough for us to be well out of their reach before they find their mounts. There’s just one big problem. They’ll know you’re going to the Washita, and we can’t run their horses far enough to avoid having them get there ahead of us. Of these particular Indians, how many of them have been buying from you?”

  “A few,” said Estrello cautiously.

  “We’re going to have to trail them, find where they’re camped, and then stampede their horses,” Mark said, “and we’ll have to do it tonight.”

  “By God, you’re mighty concerned with my well-being,” said Estrello.

  “I’m concerned about me, my woman, and my friends,” Mark said. “I’ll help you to save them. If we’re forced into a fight with that many Indians, some of us will die.”

  “I reckon that makes sense,” said Estrello. “How many men?”

  “As many as you’ll send, as well as me and my friends,” Mark said.

  “I’m leaving some of my men with the wagons,” said Estrello, “and just so you don’t get any ideas beyond chasing Indians, your women will stay here, too.”

  “Then get your outfit saddled and let’s ride,” Mark said.

  Estrello left nine of his men with the wagons.

  “Amanda,” said Mark, “you and Betsy stay near the wagons, and keep your guns close. Stay away from those men Estrello is leaving here.”

  “Do be careful,” Betsy cried.

  Estrello led out, and there was no difficulty following the trail the Indians had left. The moon had risen early, and the purple sky was a profusion of silver stars. Directly behind Estrello’s group rode Carl, Lee, Vernon, Todd, Nick, and Ed, led by Bill and Mark. Nobody spoke. There was only the steady thump of horses’ hooves. Finally, when they stopped to rest the animals, Estrello dropped back to talk to Mark.

  “Rogers, you say you’ve done this before. From here on, take the lead. You’d better not be leadin’ us into a fight we can’t win.”

  They were riding westward into Indian Territory, the night wind in their faces, and at the smell of wood smoke, Mark reined up, raising his hand. The rest of the riders reined up behind him, dismounting when he did.

  “We’ll have to go on foot the rest of the way,” Mark said, “but first we must know how their camp is laid out and where the horses are. I’ll take one man with me.”

  “Then I’ll go,” said Estrello.

  “I’d prefer Clemans or Ursino,” Mark said.

  “Damn it, I said I’m going,” said Estrello.

  “Suit yourself,” Mark said.

  They crept along on foot until the smell of wood smoke grew stronger. Slowly, they made their way through a heavy stand of trees to the crest of a ridge. Below them, in a canyon and along a stream, was the Indian camp.

  “By God,” grunted Estrello, “it’s a box canyon, with the horses at the boxed end, and all them damn Indians fencin’’em in. We can’t stampede them horses unless we’re behind them.”

  “Then we’ll have to get behind them,” said Mark. “We’re going to look at the boxed end of this canyon and find a way down. Then we can stampede their horses right through the camp.”

  Estrello said nothing as they followed the ridge, carefully keeping below the skyline. A stream flowed out of solid rock at the boxed end of the canyon, and even in the dim light from the moon and stars, it appeared there was no possible way to take horses down the slope.

  “That damn canyon wall is solid rock and near straight up,” said Estrello. “They ain’t no way you can get a horse down that.”

  “I don’t aim to take horses down there,” Mark said. “I aim to take seven men with me, and we’re going in afoot. After we’ve stampeded the horses, I want you and the rest of the men mounted, near the open end of this canyon. When those Indian horses pour out, I want all of you behind them, yelling and shooting like hell wouldn’t have it. I want those horses run a good fifty miles from here. Comprehende?”

  “Yeah,” said Estrello, “but my men ain’t likely to take to the idea of goin’ afoot among that many Indians.”

  “I’ve decided who’s going with me,” Mark said. “Long, Sullivan, Clemans, Keithley, Ursino, Stackler, and Harder. I want the rest of you near the open end of that canyon. The success of this whole thing depends on how far all of you are able to stampede those horses, once we start ’em running.”

  “I can’t figure you out, Rogers,” said Estrello. “You and your friends are goin’ into an Indian camp afoot, leavin’ me and my boys mounted.”

  “That’s it.” Mark said. “I want you and your men down there at the lower end of that canyon, and I don’t want so much as a whisper out of any of you. If anybody lights a smoke, and the Indians don’t kill him, I will.”

  “Where you goin’ now?” Estrello asked.

  “Back after my amigos. By the time we return, the moon should have set, which will suit our purpose,” said Mark.

  “I’ll take the rest of my men down canyon to wait for the stampede,” Estrello said, “but don’t get any ideas about a double cross.”

  “That’s the trouble with being a lyin’, cheatin’, murderin’ varmint,” said Mark with as much venom as he was capable of. “You can’t trust anybody else to keep his word.”

  “There’s something damned strange about you and your bunch taking all the risk, just to save us and my wagonloads of whiskey,” Estrello said. “My boys ain’t gonna like this.”

  “Then, by God, send your boys into that box canyon to stampede those horses. I’ll be glad to just back off and let you handle it any way you damn please,” said Mark.

  “No,” Estrello said. “Do it like you got it planned. I’ll take the other nine hombres to the lower end of the canyon to wait for you and your bunch to stampede the horses.”

  They reached the picketed horses and Estrello quickly explained the plan.

  “Rogers, Harder, and their few friends ain’t been nothin’ but trouble, ever since we left the Washita,” said Suggs, “and now you’re puttin’ everything in their hands. Damn it, I don’t like it.”

  “The trouble with you and a few of the others, Suggs, is that you let your likes and dislikes get in the way of common sense. Somebody’s got to get down that canyon wall and stampede those Indian horses. I’m ready to back off and let you and your stubborn amigos handle this the best way you can,” Mark said angrily.

  “Suggs,” said Estrello, “he’s speakin’ the truth. If that whole damn bunch of Indians is able to come after us, we’re dead men. So is Rogers and his compadres. Now unless you and seven others want to do what Rogers and his amigos aim to do, then just shut the hell up. I want all of you at the lower end of this canyon when we return with the other men. Hide your horses well away from the canyon mouth, and keep them there until we get back to you.”

  “No noise, no smoking, and no talking,” Mark said.

  “Pay attention to him,” said Estrello. “Spoil this, any one of you, and I’ll personally peel your hide off, a strip at a time.”

  Mark mounted up, riding back the way they ha
d come. Estrello and the nine men who had come with him mounted their horses and began a roundabout ride toward the open end of the canyon.

  Chapter 13

  Mark rode back to where his companions still waited with their horses. Quickly, he told them of his plan.

  “It’s as good a plan as we’re likely to come up with,” Ed said. “That is, if Estrello and his bunch can keep the stampede going.”

  “They’d damn well better,” said Mark, “or we’ll be trapped in that canyon with a passel of screaming Indians after our scalps.”

  “Tell me Estrello and his bunch didn’t take our horses with them,” Bill said.

  “They didn’t,” said Mark. “Our horses are where we left them before Estrello and me went looking for the Indian camp.”

  “We can’t take the horses down the canyon wall, and if we could, they couldn’t climb out again,” Carl said. “How do we get out of that canyon? With that many Indians, some of them may grab a horse, even as they’re stampeded.”

  “We’ll take our horses well beyond the mouth of the canyon, where they’ll be well out of the way of the stampede. We’ll picket them there. When we’re down the canyon wall, we’ll each take an Indian pony and begin the stampede. After the horses are free of the canyon, we’ll ride back and get our own horses, leaving Estrello and his bunch to keep the stampede going.”

  “What about the Indian ponies we’ll be riding?” Lee asked. “We can’t just turn them loose. The Indians could use them to help gather the others.”

  “We’ll take the Indian ponies back to camp with us,” said Mark. “Any more questions before we head for the canyon?”

  There were none. Mark led out, his companions following. They left their horses not far from where Estrello and his men waited. From there, it was a mile or more back to the boxed end of the canyon, and they had to walk.

  “I don’t mind facin’ a hundred or so kill-crazy Indians,” Ed said, “but walkin’ in these boots could be the death of me.”

  They reached the boxed end of the canyon, Mark taking the lead, each man bringing the lariat from his saddle. Mark held up his hand, and his companions halted. He would make the ascent first. Finding a large pinnacle of stone that he judged strong enough, Mark secured one end of his lariat to it. Carl, Lee, Vernon, and Todd passed him their lariats. He judged them more than long enough to reach the canyon floor below. The fires within the Indian camp had burned down to coals, and the occasional wind stirred a spark or two. Mark hitched up his gun belt, pulled his hat a bit lower, and started down. His feet against the rocky canyon wall, hanging on to the extended lariats, he “walked” down. Bill followed, and within minutes all eight men were on the floor of the canyon. Water fell from a head-high crevice in the wall, helping to conceal any sound. Some of the horses had ceased grazing, and the eight men waited for the animals to settle down. When they did, Mark quickly got his arm around the neck of a bay. He held the animal steady until his companions had captured mounts. At his signal, each of them mounted, bareback, drew their Colts, and began firing over the heads of the remaining horses. The herd broke into a fast gallop, the eight riders right behind them. Some of the sleeping Indians barely escaped the thundering hooves, while some of them were able to catch a horse on the run. Mark shot two mounted Indians off their horses. His companions followed his lead, and finally the horses had run through the Indian camp, and there were no more mounted Indians. By the time some of the Indians got their rifles, the range was too great and the sky was dark with gathering clouds. Some Indians fired arrows or threw lances, all of which fell short. When the herd of Indian horses was out of the canyon, nine more riders swept in behind them. Mark and his companions cut out of the canyon and back along the rim, far enough from the edge that the Indians couldn’t see or hear them. Estrello and his men kept up the firing until Mark and his companions could hear it no longer.