Jailbreak

by Giles Tippette

  And then there was the matter of the horses. They’d been rode hard for twenty-five miles without benefit of feed or water. And out there on that barren plain there didn’t look like hope for neither one.

  Lew was mad as hell when he got back. He had Davilla riding beside him, the capitán’s bridle tied to his, Lew’s, saddle horn. He said, jerking his thumb at Davilla, “This son of a bitch just took me on a wild-goose chase. That railroad line ain’t no more than a mile east of here. But this bastard—” He paused to strike Davilla a backhanded slap across the mouth. “Wanders me all over hell and back like I ain’t smart enough to see what he’s doing.” He raised his hand again. “I ought to beat him half to death.”

  I said, “Wait a minute. Don’t kill him yet. We might can still use him.”

  It was a chore getting loaded back up. Everyone was nearly give out, and then there was the problem of getting the two wounded men astride their mounts, especially Miguel Elizandro. Some color had started coming back into Jack’s face, but the señor was looking mighty weak and peaked. But he made no complaint or sound as we put him on his horse. I had taken the remains of my clean shirt and made a bandage of sorts, soaked in whiskey, to place over the wound. After that we’d taken some soft rope we had and bound his injured arm to his chest as tight as we could without it cutting off the circulation. When you lead a rough life in rough country you either learn how to take care of injuries and wounds or you and the people around you just don’t make it. I figured I’d treated just about every kind of hurt that could be done to a man over the long years, but I shore didn’t care for the way Miguel was looking. It made me feel frustrated not knowing what to do. I’d dug a few bullets out in my time, but that had been out of flesh. Near as I could figure that bullet was somewhere in the bone of his shoulder, and that was about three steps beyond me. Nevertheless, if it began to look like he wasn’t going to make it anyway, I figured I might give it a stab.

  We left out, leaving the three corpses of Senor Elizandro’s men buried under a pile of brush that his other two hands had gathered up and covered the bodies with. It wouldn’t have fooled a schoolboy, but we didn’t want the federales or the rurales to know we were reduced in force by the three men, and if they didn’t come right by they’d be none the wiser.

  I had asked Miguel if he thought I could trust the other two, but his embarrassment about the betrayal of Benito and the two that had joined him had been so great that he excused himself from making such a judgment. He’d said, “How can I apologize? How can I say what I am sure of? I would have wagered my life on Benito and then he acts thus. He became afraid because he thought the long odds had gone against us. He became a coward. I can tell you no more.”

  We rode, about as sad a looking crowd as you’d ever want to see, across the alkaline plain under the unmerciful Mexican sun. I could feel the weakness in my horse. I was racking my brain, trying to think of something to do, some way to improve our position, when Ben rode up beside me. He said, “Don’t look so good.”

  “No,” I said. “Don’t.”

  He was quiet a moment and then he said, “Trying a getaway on horseback may not have been the best idea. Especially us not knowing the country.”

  I gave him a look. “What’d you have in mind, taking the train back? Reckon those police would have been polite enough to have waited for the conductor to have boarded us and give us a good start? I reckon we ought to have planned the jailbreak around a railroad timetable.”

  He said, “No. But I think we could have figured something else.”

  “Just what?”

  He studied for a moment and then he said, “Well, we could have scouted the country out and had us a place to go to ground so that when we run from Monterrey we’d have been damn hard to find and we wouldn’t have worn the horses out or had a running gunfight across this bad terrain. Then, when matters had cooled off, we could have eased on out for the border and nobody the wiser.”

  It was good thinking and I told him so. Then I said, “First off you forgot a couple of small items. First, we didn’t go to Monterrey to break Norris out. You’ll remember we were going to try and buy him out. Once we see that couldn’t be done we didn’t have much time because, if you’ll remember, I’m due at a wedding. Mine. And I intend to make it. To do what you figured out would have taken about a week longer and, for all you know, they might have moved Norris to someplace like Mexico City. You think we’re having hell now you figure out what it would have been like to break him out of one of those prisons in the big capital.”

  He thought on it for a time, turning it over in his mind. Then he nodded. “I reckon you’re right. I reckon we’ve just got to make this one work.”

  “That’s about the size of it,” I said, dryly. “And right now nearly the full ownership of the Half-Moon Ranch is in one hell of a mess out in the bald-ass middle of nowhere. You can’t look back to the last hand, Ben. You got to play the cards you were dealt.”

  “Was I sounding like Norris?”

  “Just a little more than I care for right now. He ain’t my most popular person at the moment.”

  “Justa, he feels terrible about all this. He says you won’t talk to him. He says he wishes you could see his side.”

  I said, “He better leave me alone right now. I’m in the mood to see his side, all right—his insides.”

  Ben shrugged. He said, “Don’t be too hard on him, Justa.”

  We kept going. I don’t recall ever riding a longer mile in my life, but before much longer I could see the railroad. As we got closer I could see that the bed for the tracks had been graded up some three feet off the floor of the plain. I didn’t know how many campesinos with pick and shovel it had taken to dig up that caleche soil and elevate that rail bed, but I knew why they’d done it. Country like we were in might not get rain but about once every six months, but when you did get it it might come a gully washer and you could have a flash flood before you could blink an eye. And then there would go your railroad—tracks, ties, gravel and everything else that might be in the way.

  We got to the rail bed. I pulled us to a stop and looked up at the telegraph line, a copper wire running from post to post and sailing off into the distance as far as the eye could see. I dismounted tiredly. Everyone else, except for the two wounded men, got down. We stood there looking up at our problem. The posts were a good foot in diameter. We weren’t going to cut them down on account of having nothing to chop with. And I couldn’t see how any of us were going to be able to climb up to the wire even if we’d had something to cut the wire with. I said, trying not to sound so tired, “Ben, you are going to have to shoot that wire in two. A bullet ought to cut it, but I reckon you’ll have to hit it where it’s nailed to the post.”

  Lew came up. He said, “Justa, have you got any idea how sound will carry in this kind of country? Hell, why don’t you just send up smoke signals and let them know where we are?”

  I shook my head. I said, “Lew, you make a good point. But I got to get that wire cut and I don’t know no other way to do it. If you know, then go right ahead.”

  He was silent for a second and then he shook his head and turned away. “I guess,” he said. “Hell, you’re the boss. Something I’m glad I ain’t right now.”

  Ben had gone over to get his saddle gun. I stood in front of the post and gave him a shoulder for a rifle rest. It wasn’t going to be any easy shot. That wire wasn’t more than a quarter of an inch thick and, even as close as we were, it was going to take a hit dead center to cut it.

  Ben got behind me and rested his rifle on my right shoulder. He said, while he was sighting, “Hell, hold still. You are trembling.”

  “Tired,” I said. “Let me take a deep breath.”

  I sucked in a lungful of wind and Ben sighted carefully up at the wire. The sound of his carbine going off right next to my ear almost deafened me. I looked up. The wire was the same, undisturbed. “Try again,” I said. “Maybe I moved.”

  He fired aga
in and I could see the wire tremble.

  “Getting closer,” he said. “I think I cut it about half in two on that shot.”

  The wire fell on his third shot. A sort of ragged cheer went up from around the assembled party as Ben’s shot severed the wire. Lew said, “Doubt that it makes much difference. I reckon word has gone out some time back.”

  I let us all rest for a few minutes and then I made a resolve. I said, “Hays, pass out the food and water. I know you must have some canned meat and beans or something like that. Surely to the gods you didn’t just get canned apricots and canned tomatoes?”

  He said, earnestly, “I got what they had, boss.”

  I said, “Well, pass them around. And I want everybody to take one hell of a drink of water, whether they are thirsty or not. We’ve got to do something about these horses.”

  Hays said, “I got some bread, boss.”

  I gave him a sour look. “Then don’t keep it to yourself. Pass out everything you got. We are fixing to have to start traveling fast.”

  We ate, sitting around on the iron rails, looking off into the distance for any pursuit that might have been aroused by Ben’s three shots. Of course, thinking back, I didn’t see what difference it made. Not much more than a mile from where we sat Benito had loosed off a shot and Ben had followed with six more. Hell, if they were on to our whereabouts all we could do was fight anyway. I had four good guns, including myself and not including the two remaining men of Señor Elizandro. If we were attacked in force, given the terrain and our position, we weren’t going to have much of a chance.

  I looked down to where Norris was sitting. He had his head down, eating out of a can of beans with a spoon I figured Hays had rustled up for him. He looked jail-weary and trail-worn. I figured he wasn’t altogether too happy with himself right then and there. It come to me to make a sort of gesture toward him that might buck him up a little, but then I hardened my heart. The time was not yet ripe.

  I had beans and then I had a can of some kind of stew. I hated to think of what was in it. It might have been all right or nearly edible if it had been heated up, but we had no time and no inclination to make a fire.

  When we were through I stood up. I called Hays. I said, “I want you to get them water jugs off the packhorse. Then I want every man to take his hat and fill it up with water and give his horse as much as we’ve got while it lasts.”

  Hays protested. “But, boss, what about us?”

  I said, “Those horses go down, we go down. You understand? We can stand a little thirst for a few more days, but those horses are packing us, not the other way around. Now do like I tell you.”

  I set the example by taking my hat and pouring it as full as I could get. My young bay gelding took after it with eagerness and appreciation. I yelled down the line, “Get as much water in them as you can. It could be forty miles before they water again.”

  Off to the north, through the shimmering heat waves, I could see the track running straight as a die toward the Texas border. I thought, what the hell, we might as well follow it. At least we wouldn’t get lost. We were about to run out of the little hummocks and ridges, and the only protection left was the stunted underbrush and small trees and our own guns.

  I looked down the line of horsemen. Some of them were still watering their horses. Hays come up to me with a worried look on his face. He said, “Boss, I hope you know what you are about. We got exactly two canteens left. Two gallons of water.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ray. You’ll probably be dead before you get a chance to be thirsty again.”

  He said, “Oh, well, then I—”

  Then he stopped and looked at me. I yelled out, “Mount up. We got to get this caravan moving.” I took a look at Jack and Señor Elizandro. Jack appeared to be picking up, but the señor was going the other way. Well, there wasn’t a thing could be done about it. I swung in the saddle.

  Just about the time I was set to move out on my refreshed mount I heard Ben say from behind me, “Justa, take a look to the west, to your left. Breaking out from behind that brushy barranca.”

  I wheeled in the saddle and looked where he was pointing. A half dozen men had broken clear of the scrubby underbrush a half mile to the west of us. They were coming full tilt. Even as I watched I saw another small party come from around the other side of the little hummock, another half a dozen men, and come charging.

  I stared, not quite knowing what to make of them. From behind me, sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth, I heard Miguel say, “Rurales. Very bad. Very bad. They won’t stop.”

  “Lew!” I yelled.

  9

  Lew was beside me even as I was dismounting. I said, “We got to lure them on. There are too many of them and if we get caught in a running fight they’ll dog us all the way to the border. We got to lure them, decoy them.”

  “What you want me to do?”

  I said, “Get up there in the middle of the tracks with Davilla. Get behind him and get a pistol in his back but not where it can be seen. I want him to wave those riders on in. I want them close enough so that we can take the biggest part of them out with our first fusillade.” I looked at Lew. “I know I’m asking a hell of a lot. I’m asking you to expose yourself to extra danger.”

  He spit on the ground as if to say it didn’t amount to that much. “Hell, I’ll have Davilla in front of me. They ain’t gonna shoot at him. And I got a uniform on. Them rurales will just think we’re a couple of federales officers with the prisoners. If we get lucky they’ll just come riding right on in.”

  I said, “We’ll be sheltering down behind this grade. We can’t get the horses down, but they ought not to be too exposed. When we let go with that first barrage you jerk Davilla down and get behind cover yourself.”

  The others were already dismounting. Ben and Hays were helping Señor Elizandro off his horse and propping him up against the bank of the railroad grade. Lew was forcing an unwilling capitán of federales up the steep slope and onto the railroad tracks.

  The rurales were coming on, converging as they did until they were just one group. I estimated they were still a good quarter of a mile off. I yelled out, “Men, you got to make these first shots count. We got to get all of this bunch. I mean every damn one of them.”

  But I didn’t know if I had the guns for it. With Lew more or less out of it there was only me and Ben and Hays. I didn’t know how well Señor Elizandro’s men could shoot but I damn sure knew about Norris, even though he had a rifle in his hands.

  I saw Lew jab Davilla with his pistol in the back. They were just over my head and to my left. With obvious reluctance Davilla began to wave to the rurales, making come-on-in motions. I could see but couldn’t hear Lew talking in his ear.

  Then it seemed to me as if the riders slowed up, became more cautious. They were only a couple of hundred yards away, but it was still too far for really accurate and rapid firing. Finally they came to a halt a full one hundred yards away. One of them yelled something in Spanish at Davilla. Davilla didn’t reply. Lew jabbed him with the pistol and talked in his ear. My heart was in my throat. If they got spooked now they’d lay out on our flanks and pick us off at their leisure. I prayed for Lew to do something, but I didn’t know what he could do. If Davilla didn’t say something soon it would be too late.

  Then Lew stepped out from behind Davilla. He was still holding the pistol in Davilla’s back but it wouldn’t have been apparent to the rurales. He yelled something in Spanish. It was too fast and too complicated for me to follow, but it got the rurales’ attention. Their leader shouted something back and then Lew fired something back at him. Finally the rurales started forward again. Only this time they appeared to be coming with greater caution, coming at a walk. Lew shouted something else at them and I was wishing mightily that he’d get back behind Davilla where he’d have some cover. I knew the officers could see the backs of our horses and they must have wondered who else was in the party. Lew kept up that
taunting kind of hollering. It must have been working, for the party broke into a trot. They were seventy-five yards away, and then fifty, and then forty.

  At twenty yards, with them almost in our laps, I suddenly raised up, rested my rifle on the near rail, and snapped off a shot at the leader. The others had seen my motion and they were doing likewise. Our fire was having a deadly effect. The rurales were dropping like a giant hand was sweeping them off their horses. I felt a motion to my left and Lew came tumbling down the embankment dragging a screaming Capitán Davilla after him. With one swift motion he hit the capitán over the head with his revolver, grabbed up his carbine, and joined me at the top of the grade.

  Riderless horses were running everywhere. A few rurales were on the ground, trying to return fire. But their positions were totally exposed and they didn’t last long. Then two riders suddenly broke from the rapidly diminishing pack and headed back from whence they’d come. I tried a shot but they were quickly getting out of range. Ben raised up, sighted a long second and then fired. One fell but the other kept going. In a moment he was well out of range.

  We stood up to look. I counted eleven men down, including the one Ben had shot at long range. A couple of them were moving. I did not know what to do about that, but Elizandro’s two men quickly resolved it for me. Standing up, they quickly—before I could say a word—pumped bullets into the two men until they were still. I wanted to stop them, but, to my shame, I was glad they’d done it. I had no idea what I would have done with two wounded policemen. I had enough wounded to worry about as it was.