Lookout Hill (9781101606735)

by Cotton, Ralph W.

  “Upwards of twenty men,” Sam replied in the same lowered voice beneath a gust of dusty night wind. As he spoke, his gaze shifted away from the moonlit street to something shadowy he thought he’d seen move farther back across the alley behind them.

  “Sí, twenty sounds right,” Lupo said. His eyes also went to the rear of the alley, but only for a moment.

  “Did you see something back there, Easy John?” the Ranger asked him quietly.

  “I thought I did,” Lupo replied. “But the moonlight and wind plays tricks on the eye.”

  “Maybe,” Sam said with little conviction, eyeing the darkness closer. His eyes were not in the habit of falling for tricks of moonlight or wind.

  Even as they spoke, another gust of wind bellowed and fell, stirring dust, leaving it looming midair at the rear of the alley. Between flanking black shadows, the two saw a number of small winged creatures cut sharply through the slanted purple moonlight and careen away on the night wind.

  “Birds…bats perhaps,” Lupo offered.

  “Perhaps,” Sam agreed, willing to let it go at that for the time being.

  With no more on the matter, they turned back to the men and the horses on the dirt street.

  “They could never have gathered here in this great number without Bellibar being in with them,” Lupo whispered. “If they could, they would have done so and robbed Pettigo-American long before now.”

  “Why would the Pettigos make a man like Bellibar sheriff, knowing they have so much riding on this place?”

  “Even smart men do stupid things,” Lupo said. “I have learned to not question why when opportunity presents itself, only to take advantage—to strike before anyone realizes they have made a mistake and they hurry to correct it.”

  “It never hurts to wonder why,” said Sam.

  “Sí, you are right,” said Lupo, “unless wondering gets in the way of doing what must be done.”

  Sam gazed out onto the street and looked back and forth, seeing two of the Cadys’ men step out and take up their horses’ reins while the others remained resting along the boardwalk. One of the men carried a railroad lantern in his hand. The lantern had been fitted with a tin blackout shield that blocked half of the lantern’s light, allowing it to only be seen clearly from one side at any great distance.

  “These two are getting ready to ride on ahead,” said Sam in a whisper.

  “Sí, they are the ones who will silence the guards for the others, and for us as well,” Lupo replied. “They are our key to getting inside. Let us hope they do a good job.”

  Sam and Lupo turned to their horses as the two men on the street mounted and rode off along the main street at a gallop.

  “While they ride up the gully taking care of the guards, we will flank them along the edge of the rocks,” said Lupo, the two of them leading their horses quietly to the rear of the alley.

  When they were out of the alley, they stepped up into their saddles in another gust of night wind. Sam drew his rifle from its boot and laid it across his lap. He watched Lupo climb stiffly up into his saddle and adjust himself as a thin dust devil rose and swirled and danced alongside them.

  “The wind will help cover our sound,” Lupo said, “even if it does keep the guards alert.”

  The two turned their horses to the same back trail they’d come in on, and rode away in silence as the dust devil loomed and swirled in place, as if watching them go.

  On the street, Sonny White straightened quickly from against the hitch rail and turned toward the dark alley, his gun coming up hand, cocked, ready to fire.

  “Who the hell’s there?” he called out toward the alley. Wind kicking up dust and a scrap of debris at the alley’s edge.

  Beside him the Cady brothers turned as well, following his lead, their hands going to their gun butts, without drawing.

  “Whoa, now, Sonny,” said Fletcher Cady beside him. “Don’t be firing that six-shooter.”

  “One shot and this all falls apart on us,” Bert Cady joined in, standing on the other side of his brother.

  “I heard a horse’s hoof,” said Sonny White, still staring into the blackness.

  “Lower the gun, Sonny,” said Fletcher. “You heard Bert. One damn gunshot and you’ll hear a lot of horses’ hooves—it’ll be ours, taking us home empty-handed.”

  “Sorry,” said Sonny, lowering his gun, letting the hammer down, but keeping it in hand. “I know I heard a hoof back in there somewhere,” he added.

  “You might’ve heard this wind,” said Fletcher Cady. “These Mexican west winds sound like all sorts of things.”

  “Fletcher, you’re the boss,” Sonny White said, “but I’ve heard Mexican wind, and I’ve heard hooves. I know the difference.”

  Fletcher just stared at him in the moonlight until White let out a breath, lowered his gun into his holster and leaned back against the hitch rail.

  “Mexican west wind it is,” he said in submission. In a lowered voice he said, “Now, you were talking about these saddle tramps you want me to kill…?”

  “That’s them down there,” Fletcher said, nodding without pointing toward Bellibar and Siebert, who sat on the far end of the row of gunmen. “Keep it to yourself. As soon as we get inside Pettigo-American Mining, kill them both.”

  “Will do,” said White. “Mind if I tell Matt and Jarvis about it, though?”

  “Why’s that?” Fletcher Cady said bluntly. “Can’t you do it by yourself?”

  “I can do it by myself well enough,” said White. “But you know us three always do everything like that together.” He shrugged. “Hell, they don’t call us the three musketeers for nothing.”

  “I never heard anybody call the three of you that,” said Fletcher.

  “Well, they do,” said White, a little edginess coming into his voice. “Anyway, that’s the way the three of us work.”

  Fletcher let out a patient breath, looked at his brother, then back at Sonny White.

  “All right, tell Matt and Jarvis,” he said, “but make sure none of yas tell anybody else.”

  “We won’t,” said White, “you’ve got my word.” He paused, then asked, “Who are these two? What’d they do to get your bark on so tight?”

  “Bobby Hugh Bellibar and Hot Aces Siebert,” said Fletcher Cady.

  “I’ve heard of them.” White nodded. “Some awfully bad hombres as I recollect.”

  “Any problem killing these awfully bad hombres for me?” Fletcher asked.

  “No, not at all,” said White. “You can count them dead and done with, soon as we get inside the mines.”

  The Ranger and Lupo caught up to the two riders easily, but instead of getting too close, they pulled away from them. Riding a hundred yards up to their left, they flanked the gunmen from along a narrow game path that wound its way through rock along the steep, jagged slope. Beneath them, the two forward riders kept out of the pale moonlight and moved along quietly in the black shadows below the hill line.

  At a point on the game path that Lupo seemed to recognize even in the darkness, he brought his horse to a halt and held a hand back toward the Ranger to stop him.

  “Out there is the first guard outpost,” he whispered. “The forward riders will slip out and kill the guard. Watch for the lantern signaling back to the Cadys when they are finished. By now the rest of the gunmen are moving forward through the gully.”

  The two waited in silence, staring into the darkness below. After a tense moment they both saw a light that appeared to rise from the ground and make one single streak across the dark like a small comet, then disappear.

  “Cadys’ men have just shed the first blood of Pettigo’s mercenaries,” Lupo said with a breath of relief. “One guard post down, three more to go,” he added. “Let us hope the next three will go as smoothly as this one.”

  “The Cadys put some thought into this,” Sam noted, knowing that below them the two gunmen had just killed a man, maybe two, and were now slipping back across the gully floor, back out of
the moonlight to the cover of the black hill line shadows below.

  “As have I, Ranger,” Lupo assured him.

  The two turned their horses in the dark and rode on.

  When Lupo stopped again, the Ranger stopped with him. They both turned in their saddles without either of them saying a word and watched in silence until once again the streak of the lantern announced its blood success.

  As soon as the glowing signal lantern made its arch, Lupo held up two gloved fingers in the darkness for the Ranger to see.

  “Two down…two to go,” he said.

  In the rising wind, they nudged their horses forward and rode on. But this time, Sam noted that Lupo began to lead them gradually higher up the gully wall. An hour later when they once again stopped at a point Lupo had plotted out beforehand, they waited until they saw the arch of the signal lantern for the third time.

  “Three down…one to go,” Lupo said.

  This time, before the Mexican agent had time to turn his horse and ride on, he saw Sam sitting atop his stallion staring squarely at him, his rifle up from his lap, pointed loosely in Lupo’s direction.

  “Want to tell me why we’ve been headed up farther from the gully the past hour or so?” he said coolly.

  “Ah,” said Lupo, as if to keep the conversation casual, “I knew this change in direction would not go unnoticed by you. I knew you would be asking before long.”

  Sam could tell Lupo was stalling, wanting to put him off.

  “I am asking,” Sam said bluntly, cocking the rifle, making sure Lupo heard it. “Now start answering.”

  “It is not what you think, Ranger,” Lupo said. “It is not some sort of double cross.”

  “Then what is it?” Sam asked, flatly.

  “It is…a change of plans,” Lupo said after a moment of hesitance.

  “A change in plans, this late in the game?” Sam said.

  “Sí,” Lupo said, “I’m afraid so. I knew that two men could not get inside Pettigo-American from the gully floor. It will take a force the size of the Cadys’, and even they will have a hard fight. Do you understand?”

  Sam didn’t answer; he only stared.

  “So I planned on us going around to a spot on the hillside that I scouted out long ago. While the Pettigos prepare to be attacked from the valley floor, we will be taking the gold and slipping out with it right under their noses.”

  “While the Pettigos are preparing for an attack?” Sam said. “So far they haven’t heard a sound. They have no idea anybody’s coming.”

  “I know,” said Lupo. His hand came up from his lap, holding his Big Walker Colt in the air. Sam almost shot him before he saw the gun was not meant for him. Lupo fired the gun three times, shattering the quietness of the night. “Now they do,” he added.

  Even as Lupo lowered the Colt, they saw three rifle shots streak upward from the gully floor. A second passed, and then streaks of gunfire from the Cadys’ forward riders erupted in the darkness. The fight had started. Sam knew it would prove to be a long and bloody one if the Cadys were intent on robbing Pettigo-America Mining.

  “Come on,” said Lupo, nudging his horse forward, “we don’t want to get hit by a stray bullet. There is still much to do tonight.”

  Sam nudged Black Pot along behind him, but he kept his rifle ready as they headed farther upward away from the gully floor.

  “Keep talking,” he said to Lupo. “If I don’t like what I hear, I’ll turn around and ride out. I can take up Bellibar and Siebert’s trail when the dust settles, if they’re still alive.”

  “You would leave me,” said Lupo, “after agreeing to help me recover my country’s gold?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, when you changed the plan without telling me, I stopped owing you a thing,” Sam said.

  “Ah, but I did not change the plan, Ranger,” Lupo said. “This was my plan all along.”

  “You know what I mean, Easy John,” said Sam. “Don’t mince words with me, or I’ll cut out this minute.”

  “All right, Ranger,” said Lupo, “you must forgive me. In my business, trust is a hard thing to establish. I could not tell you my entire plan until I knew things were under way—until I saw I could trust you completely.”

  “Or until I saw you were misleading me,” Sam added.

  “Okay, this is true, Ranger,” Lupo admitted. “But what is done is done. Now we must go on with our mission.”

  “Tell me about this spot you scouted out on the hillside,” Sam said. “How do we get in from there?”

  “Instead of trying to breech the big iron gates that protect the front of Pettigo-American Mining,” Lupo said, “I have arranged for us to have ropes waiting for us. We will climb up and—”

  “Hold it,” said Sam, cutting him off. “You’ve arranged? Arranged how?”

  “All right…” Lupo took a breath. “I have taken one of the mercenaries into my confidence,” he said. “He will be watching for us. He will drop ropes for us. Once we are inside, everything else will go as planned. While the Pettigos and the Cadys fight it out, we will take the wagon down the hidden tunnel back trail and disappear with it.” He paused, then said, “Are you still with me, Ranger?”

  Sam looked back at the gunfire streaking back and forth along the gully floor. The fighting would grow far worse before it was over. He knew he was straying far from his job of tracking down Bellibar and Siebert. But this was where the trail had led him.

  “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” he asked, still staring down at the streaks of gunfire.

  “No,” said Lupo in a sincere voice, “there is nothing else. You must believe me. My intent is the same as before. I am only out to recapture my nation’s stolen gold. Anyway, I did not lie to you. I only withheld part of the truth.” He offered an apologetic smile. “You must forgive me. Sometimes I do it for good reason. Other times I do it only out of habit, eh?”

  Sam considered it for a moment longer, his eyes studying the gun battle below, knowing that farther up the gully the alarm had been sounded. The men at Pettigo-American Mining would be armed and ready by now.

  “No more tricks, no more withholding the truth, Easy John,” he warned, turning his eyes form the gully floor and facing Lupo in the grainy darkness.

  “I am not keeping anything else from you, Ranger, I swear to it on my nation’s honor,” said Lupo.

  Sam looked at him for a moment, and then the two turned their horses together and rode away, upward along the thin, rocky game path.

  Chapter 21

  The gunfire on the gully floor had grown more intense by the time the Ranger and Lupo reached a high cliff on the left of the hilltop where Pettigo-American Mining stood. A half dozen of Pettigo’s mercenaries camped at the first guard post had ridden out to meet the attackers head-on, while higher up inside the compound the other men steadied themselves for battle.

  Along the high hillside, Sam and Lupo saw the streaks of gunfire split back and forth through the night like mad fireflies. When the two stopped at a dark point on the thin path, they looked up in time to see a rope flop down against the side of the rocky face of the cliff. As they stepped down from their horses, another rope flopped down and dangled in the darkness.

  “I know what you are thinking,” Lupo said. “You wonder how I knew to have two ropes waiting.”

  Sam didn’t reply.

  “I prepared for having someone to help me. Had I not met you along the trail, I would have recruited one of Capitán Fernando Goochero’s rurales.” He paused, then added, “But I am glad it is you, a man I know I can depend on.”

  Sam gave no response. Instead he removed his sombrero and hooked its string around his saddle horn.

  “What about our animals? Will they be safe here?” he said, watching the night wind lift strands of the horses’ mane and tails.

  “Sí, this is a good place for them,” Lupo said. “The tunnel trail comes down not far from here. When we come down, we will get our horses and tie them behind the wagon.�
�� As he spoke, he took off his sombrero and hung it over his saddle horn. He busily rummaged among the rocks at the base of the cliff and pulled up a large canvas shoulder pack with PETTIGO-AMERICAN stenciled on it.

  The dynamite, Sam told himself.

  As if hearing the Ranger’s thoughts, Lupo hefted the pack in his hands and ginned in the darkness.

  “Enough explosivos to close the trail behind us forever if we wanted to,” he said. He slipped his arms through the pack’s shoulder straps and adjusted it up onto his back. He started to say more, but a strange-sounding birdcall from the darkness above them stopped him.

  They both looked up two hundred feet where the blackness met the purple moonlight along the jagged upper edge of the cliff. A silhouette figure waved an arm back and forth at them.

  “It is my inside man,” Lupo said. He grabbed one of the ropes and shook it hard in response to the man above them.

  Sam looked down at his rifle in his hands.

  “Don’t worry, Ranger,” said Lupo. “I have rifles and ammunition waiting for us up there.”

  Sam stepped over and shoved his rifle down into his saddle boot. He looped Black Pot’s reins around a spur of rock and ran a hand down the stallion’s side.

  “I’ll be back for you,” he said under his breath. Then he turned to Lupo, who stood with rope in hand.

  “Ready?” Lupo said.

  Taking the rope dangling next to him, Sam said, “Let’s go.”

  The two began their climb upward, hand over hand, each step searching for a toehold in the darkness. Off to their right on the gully floor, gunfire exploded as the Cadys’ gunmen pushed hard through the rock and brush toward the heavy iron gates protecting the mining company. While the battle raged, wind gusted and swirled and tugged at the Ranger and Lupo as if to remind them that they had entered a place where no men should be, there in the dark, clinging by rope to an unyielding terrain otherwise reserved for bats, nighthawks and lesser creatures of the night.

  But as the gun battle continued, the two slowly, gradually forced themselves upward against heavy gravity to the cliff’s edge and in turn fell over onto the ground. Being the first to reach the top, the Ranger scooted around quickly on his stomach, reached over the edge, grabbed Lupo by his shoulder pack and pulled him up.