Savage Gun (A Piccadilly Publishing Western Book 13)

by Neil Hunter

  They spent a damp night camped out in the middle of nowhere. Luckily the rain had gone by morning and after a hurried breakfast they moved on. The day proved to be hot, the terrain hostile and dry, as if there had never been any rain. Even the air they breathed was permeated with dust. Though they kept a constant watch and saw no one, Shelby knew damn well that they were being followed.

  Mid-afternoon and they sighted the sluggish, muddy ribbon of the Rio Grande snaking its way down towards Texas. Off to their right the hazed peaks of the San Andres range thrust into the pale sky. They crossed the Grande and pushed on across country, swinging off towards the south now. Ahead of them lay a landscape of dun-colored terrain, a land of rock and sand and cactus, sun-bleached and pitted. It was a no-man’s-land, inhospitable, with little to attract man. Yet a few did come. Even here there were a few isolated ranches, small, pitiful places, where men struggled to make a living, forced to take up land here because no one else wanted it and because they couldn’t afford to buy better land elsewhere.

  Just before sundown they rode in on such a place. It wasn’t much. A small adobe house, cracked and crumbling. A pole lean-to stood at one end. There was a corral holding a couple of weary-looking horses. As they rode across the dusty yard a skinny dog yapping shrilly, raced out of the house and darted around the horses’ feet.

  A man stepped out of the house. He was a tall, lean Mexican dressed in faded whites. His black hair tumbled across his face and he kept brushing it back out of his eyes. He took one look at the four grim-faced Americans and he knew that they meant him no good.

  ‘Anybody else inside?’ Shelby asked.

  The Mexican shook his head. He could feel a film of sweat forming on his body beneath his shirt. ‘I live here alone, senor.’

  ‘Eli, go see what he’s got in there.’

  Eli Colton nodded. ‘Yo, Ben,’ he said, swinging down off his horse. He walked slowly past the Mexican and murmured something in Spanish. The Mexican glanced at him fearfully, then looked back at the other Americans. He began to say a silent prayer. He was very frightened.

  Nobody moved. There was no word spoken. Even the yapping dog had fallen silent, somehow sensing the grim atmosphere that surrounded the group. It slunk to the Mexican and lay at his feet.

  After a few minutes Eli Colton came out of the adobe. He carried a couple of filled flour-sacks.

  ‘He ain’t got much, Ben. But it’ll keep us from starving.’ He tossed the sacks up to Irve Dunker and swung himself back onto his horse.

  ‘But, senor, you cannot do this,’ the Mexican protested. ‘I have no way to get more food easily. How will I live? Must I starve?’

  ‘Hell, no, Mex, ain’t no need for you to starve.’ Morgan LeGrand’s reply was terminated by the sudden whip crack sound of a shot from his handgun and the Mexican was slammed back into the dust, a spreading patch of blood staining the front of his cotton shirt. The dog leapt to his feet and raced frantically across the yard, howling in terror until a shot sent it tumbling in a bloody heap.

  One of the four girls suddenly screamed. The others comforted her. Ben Shelby watched the redhead. She became aware of his stare and her head came up as she looked his way.

  ‘Animals,’ she said coldly. That’s all you are. A pack of miserable animals.’

  Shelby grinned. He’d expected such a response. She had spirit. He’d found that out back in Gray’s Creek. She’d given him the fight of his life up in that little room above the saloon, just as she’d said she would. And true to her word she hadn’t made his victory very enjoyable. Remembrance brought a slight smile to Shelby’s lips. There’d be another time. He hadn’t finished with her yet. Not by a long chance.

  That’s us, honey,’ he said. ‘Just a no-account pack of animals, and just you remember it.’

  ‘I’m not liable to forget,’ she replied coolly.

  Again they moved on, still heading in the same direction. As darkness closed in around them the dying sun bathed the land a rich, deep red for a time. It seemed a fitting shade for such a violent, forsaken place, a land of starkness, of utter hopelessness.

  The redheaded girl found herself becoming overwhelmed by the somber thoughts and pulled herself sharply out of the mood of despair threatening to engulf her. It was not her nature to allow her outer feelings to stifle her spirit. But even for her things had been happening too fast. She had experienced more violence and sudden death in the last two days than she had ever dreamed of and it was taking all her reserves of inner strength to live through it.

  Her name was Kathleen Hanna, though she was always known as Kate. She was twenty-five years old and she had lived in Gray’s Creek for three of those years. Up until the day of Ben Shelby’s arrival in town she had helped her widowed aunt to run the only restaurant in Gray’s Creek. It was nothing to shout about but at least a restaurant, especially the only one in town, could always rely on customers. People, even if they needed nothing else, had to eat from time to time, so the Calico House kept going. Though Kate sometimes toyed with the notion of moving on, she never got around to doing anything about it. Now she wondered if she’d ever have the chance to be in that position again.

  She realized full well the danger that she and the other girls were in. Ben Shelby and his bunch were unpredictable, violent men. Kate had no illusions as to the kind of treatment in store for herself and the other hostages. There was only pain and humiliation, which had to be endured or...what? The question sprang into Kate’s mind and she found she was thinking clearly again. She had to do something—and her first thoughts were of escape. If she could get away and contact whoever was following them, maybe she could…? Frustration rose within her. Just what could she do? Kate wasn’t sure but her determination to make an attempt at breaking away held. It was at least an act of defiance against Shelby and better than doing nothing.

  With her mind made up she began to work out a plan of action. The coming darkness would provide her with cover and Kate had lived in this wild country long enough to be able to find her way around even in the dark. All she had to do was wait for the right moment. When that might be she wasn’t sure. All she could do was to stay alert and act when an opportunity arose.

  Her chance came sooner than she expected.

  With full darkness almost upon them Ben Shelby called a halt and Kate saw they were about to make camp for the night. She watched as the men dismounted and then the four hostages were ordered to climb down. Kate felt herself go tense. Here was a chance. A slim one perhaps but it might be the only one she’d get. Once she was off her horse, escape would be out of the question. She caught sight of Ben Shelby himself coming towards her, still leading his own mount. Kate let him get close, then gently eased her horse’s head off to one side. Her mount sidestepped round Shelby’s horse, and for a few seconds Kate was hidden from Shelby’s view. She heard his angered yell but by that time she’d reined her horse about, digging in her heels to send it thundering back they way they’d come, the descending gloom hiding her from the cursing outlaws. A gun fired loudly, the shot lashing against the surrounding rocks. A second shot rang out, the bullet whining off a hard boulder. Kate leaned forward across her horse’s neck, urging it on. She could feel her heart pounding wildly, sweat making her palms slippery, but she hung on. She had no way of knowing whether any of them were behind her. She didn’t dare look. She just kept riding, hoping that her horse didn’t stumble in the darkness.

  How long she kept up her headlong flight Kate never did truly know. But she suddenly became aware that her horse was standing still, sides heaving, its head hanging low. She sat upright. Her whole body ached from the wild ride and she was breathless. She turned about and stared back into the darkness. There was nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Silence lay all around her. Had she got away? Was she free of them? How could she tell. Maybe one or more of them was out there now, close by, listening for her to move. Maybe, maybe not. Kate didn’t intend to wait and find out. Picking up her reins she eased her horse into
motion and moved on slowly.

  As the night wore on stars appeared overhead, cold, glittering pinpoints of light in the dark sky. They cast a faint light over the land and Kate found she was well able to see her way. It had turned cold too. The thin dress she was wearing offered little protection. It was something else she had to bear.

  It was well after midnight when she caught a glimpse of the Rio Grande, the dark water gleaming dully. Kate let her horse drink its fill and took the chance to stretch her legs. For the first time she was able to give thought to what she was going to do. Was she going to be able to make contact with anyone who might have trailed them from Gray’s Creek? It was a big country, a wide and empty country. Kate wasn’t certain she was even close to the trail they’d made on their way in and she knew it would be an easy thing to miss.

  Kate hauled herself back into the saddle and took her horse across the river. On the far side she headed in the general direction of Gray’s Creek. She’d only been riding for a few minutes when a sudden movement caught her attention. Despite the fear that clutched at her insides, Kate reined in and turned towards the shape approaching her out of the shadows.

  ‘Damn me.’ A man’s voice reached out of the night. An angry, not too tolerant voice. ‘Just what the hell are you doing out here? And who the hell are you?’

  Six

  ‘All right, Mr. Cord, where do we go from here?’

  Matthew Cord stared across the rim of his coffee-mug at Kate Hanna. What the hell did she expect him to say? He was stuck with her. He’d tried to figure out a way of leaving her somewhere. But where could he leave her out here? Apart from the fact that it was some of the roughest country around, there was now the fact to be faced that Apaches were around. Like it or not, he was going to have to have her along. He saw nothing but trouble coming from that arrangement.

  ‘Simple enough, Miss—hell, I’m damned if I’m going to keep on calling you Miss Hanna. The fact is, Kate, that you are going to have to stick with me all the way.’

  ‘You mean go back across the river, after Shelby?’ Kate stared at him as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘That’s about it.’

  ‘But that’s...that’s...’

  Cord reached for the coffee-pot. ‘I don’t favor the arrangement any more than you. Trouble is there ain’t any choice. I can’t take you back to Gray’s Creek. It’s not safe for you to make the trip on your own. I don’t expect any posse from town. Appears we are stuck with each other.’

  ‘I might as well have stayed with Shelby.’

  ‘Hell, do I rate as low as him?’

  ‘From what you’ve told me I’m still making up my mind,’ Kate said.

  Cord smiled into the firelight. She was forthright if nothing else. A girl any man would find a handful. The way things were going he might have the experience of being that man. It was an honor Matthew Cord could have done without. At any other time Kate Hanna might have presented a pleasant diversion—she was close to being beautiful and coupled with her stubborn, fiery character, she presented a challenge. At this time he had enough on his hands.

  ‘Well, while you do make your mind up, let’s get some sleep. I aim to move out early.’

  He tossed her one of his blankets, rolled himself in the other, and lay down. Kate sat for a moment, the blanket in a heap before her. Then she snatched it around her and curled up by the small fire Cord had burning. She lay awake for a long time, her tired mind still active. Finally she dropped off and almost before her eyes had closed it seemed she was being gently shaken. She sat up sleepily and saw that the sky was streaked with light.

  ‘But I only closed my eyes a minute ago,’ she groaned.

  Cord handed a mug of fresh coffee to her. ‘You’ll live,’ he said and there was a friendly grin across his brown face.

  Kate watched him saddle the horses. Now she could see him more clearly it struck her how tall he was. Broad too. Yet he moved lightly, handling himself with deceptive ease. He was, she realized, totally at home out here. A capable man in charge of the situation. Despite her initial disapproval of him, she had to admit he was the kind of man any woman could feel secure with.

  They rode out shortly after. Kate fell in behind Cord, knowing that he would expect her to follow his lead and any orders he might give. She knew that he was the only chance of any of the other girls getting away from Ben Shelby and his men—and getting away alive.

  It was strange retracing her steps. Kate found she was even able to pick out landmarks they’d passed the day before. They rode in silence. Cord seemed to be a man with little to say. Kate didn’t force any conversation. He had enough on his mind without her idle chatter.

  She felt a sense of dread come over her as they approached the silent spread that had belonged to the Mexican murdered by the Shelby bunch. Kate found herself reliving the whole nightmarish scene. It must have shown on her face, for Cord pulled his horse back to hers and caught her reins.

  ‘No need for you to come any closer.’

  She nodded in gratitude. They were close enough so she could see the stiffened body of the dead Mexican. Buzzards had been at work, ravaging the corpse, tearing at the face and body. Cord tied his horse to one of the corral posts. He spent a few minutes wandering around the place. Eventually he found a long-handled shovel and began to dig a shallow grave. When he’d finished he wrapped the dead man in a blanket he’d brought from inside the house and laid him in the grave. To Kate’s surprise he picked up the dead dog and placed it beside the blanketed form. He filled in the grave, searched around for a number of heavy stones to cover the mound of dry earth.

  When he was finished he mounted up and they rode out. Kate noticed a hard set to his mouth and there was a coldness in his eyes that frightened her. After a long time he said, ‘Hell of a lonely place for a man to die.’

  ‘Somebody once told me it’s lonely wherever you die,’ Kate said.

  He looked at her, his eyes searching her face. ‘Could be you’re right, Kate Hanna.’

  The rest of the day passed in a monotonous silence. They rode across an empty, eternal land of sun and dust and of a vastness that made Kate believe they could easily be the only people on earth. There was a bleak sameness to the landscape that hurt the eyes and numbed the brain.

  Towards evening Cord pointed out a hazy line of low peaks ahead of them.

  ‘The Hatchets,’ he said as if it explained everything there was to be explained.

  Kate stared at the line of low mountains. Somewhere in there were her friends, still in the hands of those brutal killers. She wondered if they were still all right. Had they suffered because of her escape? She felt a momentary pang of guilt. But then she brushed it aside. They’d all been in the same situation. Any of them could have tried to escape if they’d wanted. Even so, despite her own escape, she prayed that her friends were still safe.

  Surprisingly Cord kept on riding long after dark. There was enough light from the moon to show them their way. Kate was grateful when he finally did call a halt. He told her to make a small fire while he saw to the horses. Kate saw that he spent a long time tending to the animals, checking them over carefully. She could see the sense in it. If a horse went lame out in this savage country a person on foot wouldn’t last long.

  They ate sparingly of Cord’s supply of salted bacon and beans. He brewed a good pot of coffee. As soon as they’d finished eating he put out the fire.

  ‘Apaches?’ Kate asked.

  He shrugged. ‘No point in making ourselves too obvious. Mind, if they are around they’ll find us. Fire or not. Good Apache can smell a white man a mile away.’

  She thought he was exaggerating, and maybe he was, but she realized the implication behind his remark. This was Apache country. They knew it like nobody else. A faint shiver ran through her. She’d lived with tales of Apache cunning and violence for most of her life and though she’d never actually seen one she feared them.

  Cord seemed to sense her fear. He touched her arm
with a big hand, his fingers gripping her flesh firmly but gently. Kate raised her face and looked at him. For once the hardness had left his eyes and she saw a gentleness that surprised and pleased her.

  ‘Kate Hanna, never be afraid of shadows. Don’t let old men’s tales scare you. It’s only flesh and bone you have to worry over.’

  He drew her to him and Kate felt his strong arms go around her body. In the next moment he had kissed her, his mouth tender on her own soft lips. And Kate let herself be drawn into his embrace, not even contemplating resistance. Not even when he bore her down onto the blanket he’d previously spread on the ground. She felt his strong hands stroke her hair back from her face, then slide down to the buttons at the front of her dress, easing them open. Kate shivered as the cool night air touched her exposed breasts, stiffening, the pink nipples. In the short moments before he eased her dress from her shoulders, she found herself murmuring his name and then there was only a gentle sound, like a warm summer breeze breathing its way through the high grass.