by Tony Masero
She arched a provocative eyebrow, “You haven’t seen anything yet, mister.”
They waited impatiently but the people below took their time. The orgiastic night had obviously taken its toll and everyone moved at a snail’s pace. Then they heard Wyatt angrily calling for them to hurry along. It was almost dawn and the sky was beginning to lighten as Guardeen checked his load and flexed his body. “Don’t speak now, Christine. I need a clear mind and a steady hand.”
At last, a ringing shout went out and the fort gates swung open. There was the sound of racing hoof beats and from below the protective cover of the fort wall appeared a troop riding at full gallop. Two large Confederate flags streamed out and added to the difficulty of identification amongst the jostling crowd of riders.
“Where the hell are you?” Guardeen whispered, as his eyes raked the horsemen for Wyatt. “Out of uniform, huh?” It was true only regular soldiers appeared, no gold braided officer amongst them. They made it to the gates in seconds and were through and onto the straight road out. Dust flew in a cloud behind them, making sighting difficult.
He squeezed the trigger and the Sharps boomed. Even before the smoke had cleared, he reloaded and sighted again. A second shot rang out and the riders lashed at their steeds in panic. An alarm bell started ringing in the fort and without looking to see if had hit his targets, Guardeen swung his rifle back to the parade ground.
Men milled about, grabbing their weapons and running to the firing step. But Guardeen was not deterred, he knew his fresh target. The small window came into sharp focus as he aimed at the gap between the bars. He allowed a fraction for the drop of the shell, then fired.
“Best get your head down,” he advised Christine.
“What for?”
“Damn! I missed her.” Guardeen reloaded and aimed again. “This time…”
The explosion was sudden and violent; it blew the door of the ammunition store right across the yard in a voluminous cloud of black smoke. A second explosion followed, alive with orange flame and demolished the outer adobe wall. Roaring blasts came next as the barrels of gunpowder ignited in consecutive explosions. Huge flames jettisoned into the air, taking the roof and part of the fort wall with them. Clouds of dust and dark smoke billowed high into the morning sky and chunks of jagged adobe brick rained down amidst the crackle and zing of ignited small arms ammunition. The blast wave was tremendously powerful, it threw men and animals down and the two watchers felt its force even behind the protective shelf of rock they lay upon. His ears rang with the strength of the ruptured sound waves that beat about them.
Guardeen grinned with mischievous pleasure at the giant crater where the store and fortress wall once stood, “I do love some chaos and devastation when it’s in a good cause.”
Then he was up and, taking Christine by the hand, led her over to the rock chimney and their route down from the mountain.
Thaddeus was coming to meet them as they left the cave mouth below; he sat mounted on one pony and led another by the reins. “Lookee here, Mister Nick. One of those old boys you dropped only kept himself a Sharps carbine looped to his saddle.”
“Then you’re back on top, partner.” Guardeen mounted quickly and pulled Christine up behind him. “Let’s ride before those fellows at the fort decide to take a run at us.”
“Be a while before they dig themselves out of there,” Thaddeus said. “That was one powerful firework you set off.”
“It’ll be a long time before Fort Phoenix rises from the ashes,” observed Christine wryly as she wrapped her arms tightly around Guardeen’s waist.
“Hang on then,” he said.
“I intend to,” she replied, nuzzling into his ear.
“Woman,” Guardeen said with a slap of the reins on the pony’s rump, “I can see you’re gonna be a parcel of trouble to me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Wyatt watched bitterly from the safe heights of the Indian ziggurat as the pillar of smoke rose and covered the destruction in the courtyard. The stench of cordite and burnt timber was heavy in the air and stung his nostrils. Beyond the open gates, saw the three following his decoy platoon as it led them in the direction of Placer City. His fists clenched at the affront of being bested in his fortress, a place conceived and built by him. He turned on his heel and strode into the building. He made his way to a large table spread with maps of the Arizona territory.
Billy Ray and Swede Gunnarson awaited him. Billy Ray glowered angrily, “Why’d you let them get away?”
Wyatt studied him for a moment as if he were a specimen in a jar. “Because, of course, now they’re out in the open. Not hiding in the mountains where we can’t find them. Now they can be seen in open country and even you, with that peashooter you call a rifle, can hit them, I trust.”
Billy Ray looked down with a hurt expression at the Colt Revolving rifle in his hand, “Peashooter?” He looked back up at Wyatt and shrugged. “Size isn’t everything, you know.”
“Don’t worry, General,” said Swede raising Doolin’s Morgan James into view. “I got one big enough to handle whatever comes along.”
“Yeah,” snarled Billy Ray. “They got to pay for Black Band.”
“Just make sure they do,” ordered Wyatt angrily. “No mistakes. Finish it or don’t come back here because if they get away again, I’ll have your two heads on a pole out front of this fort. You got it?”
“We’ve got it,” agreed Swede.
“But bring me the girl alive. She has to pay double,” Wyatt snarled. “It’s her meddling that’s the cause of all this. The little bitch, I should have done for her years ago. All this time she’s been helping those Yankees in Phoenix. I guessed we had a spy somewhere in our midst but could never find out who! She was the last one I suspected; I didn’t think she had the guts for it after the way I crushed her before.” Wyatt was beginning to rant now, the intensity of the past hours building in his mind. “I gave her my seed. My precious boy. I chose her to be the vessel for our future. He was the promise of our cause. The shining light that would inherit all we would build here. I chose her above all others and she turned her back on me. Because of what? Her useless father who didn’t know the real meaning of a fiscal accounts book. The weak fool! So I cast her out. I cast her out when I should have done away with her. A moment of weakness which I pay for now.”
“We have to leave if we’re gonna catch them, General,” interrupted Swede anxiously.
“Yes, go, get on with it.” He brooded for a moment. “It’s no good me carrying on here now, we’re too exposed. They set one pack of killers on us and others will follow. With our stockpile of ammunition and weapons destroyed, the Indians will leave. So we lose a major ally. There’s only one option I have left. We have to chance all and strike now with what we have. I’ll take the army and march on Phoenix!” He stabbed a finger at the city on the map. “We’ll surprise them. A quick penetrative raid. I’ll take the capital and hang that damned Unionist, Elias George and the rest of his crew. Fellow Confederates will flock to our glorious banner once they see it raised high in the heart of a Yankee State. We’ll have the support of all the loyal members of the Confederacy. We’ll rise up together and this time we will overcome!”
The two marksmen looked at each other uneasily.
“We’d better go,” said Billy Ray as he sidled to the doorway.
Swede quickly followed with a glance over his shoulder. “We’re leaving now, Commander.”
Wyatt ignored them. “I can do this,” he muttered, his fists clenching and unclenching. “I was born for this. It is my destiny.”
Outside, Billy Ray and Swede hurried down the steps of the pyramid. “He’s crazy as a loon. Did you hear all that?” observed Billy Ray.
“You just figured that one out, boy,” Swede snorted.
“What, you knew all along, I suppose?”
“Sure. Didn’t take much to figure out, did it? Suited me and Black Band, though. He paid in gold, so who gives a damn what his stupid ca
use is.”
“Man, I thought you two were real believers.”
Swede chuckled. “When it suited, Billy Ray. When it suited.”
“So, now what. We go get those three, right?”
“That’s right. Wouldn’t want Black Band Doolin to die forgotten, would we? ’Sides, that crazy fool up there just might make it. Then we’ll be sitting pretty.”
“Right.” Billy Ray grinned. “Let’s go get ’em.”
Chapter Nineteen
Guardeen called for a halt once they crossed the border. They stopped in the small township of Tornada, a turnaround point for the stage line. No more than two outbuildings owned by the stage company, a general store, a small hotel and a covered stable yard. He set Christine on the ground and leaned down to her.
“Now look here, Christine. With what we’ve got to do, we can’t take you along with us any further. I want you to take the stage back to Phoenix. Go see the Governor. Tell him what’s happened here and that we’ll be along directly, once we’ve finished our business with Wyatt.”
Christine nodded. “I understand. I’m just slowing you down.”
Guardeen said nothing although his silence said she spoke the truth.
“Don’t worry, Nick. I’ll be all right. I’ll see you back there when you’ve done.”
He was glad she understood his predicament. He rummaged in his pocket and brought out a small leather sack that jingled with coins “Here, there should be enough for some clothes and your fare. Fine as you look, that dress isn’t fitting for a stagecoach journey.”
She took the offered sack and peeked inside. “Hmm, silver dollars. Didn’t know you were such a rich man, Mr. Guardeen.”
“Oh, that’s me, all right. The eccentric millionaire just moseying around down here in the badlands for my health.”
She laughed and he loved to see the bright sparkle in her clear blue eyes. “You take care, Nicholas Guardeen. I haven’t finished with you yet.”
He raised his hat in a flourish of farewell and brought it down hard on the pony’s rear. Thaddeus followed and they rode off along the dusty trail left by the Rebel cavalry.
“You falling for that lady, Mister Nick?” Thaddeus asked as they pounded along side by side.
“She sure is a sweet thing,” he agreed. “Not sure if I’m the kind of man for her, though.”
“Oh, I don’t know. If she can put up with your ways this far, then just maybe she is the one.”
“What d’you mean by ‘my ways’?”
“Why, no more than that pleasant disposition of yours.”
From under the brim of his hat, Guardeen looked askance at his friend. “You joshing me, Thaddeus?”
“Me, joshing? No siree. Mean every word I say. Gospel truth.”
Guardeen smiled thinly. “I do declare, Mr. Johnston. I’m gonna bust you on the nose one of these days.”
“There,” said Thaddeus. “See what I mean?”
Chapter Twenty
In the mellow light of dusk, the Confederate column split in two files as they reached the outskirts of Placer City. Their instructions were perfectly mapped out for them. Approach the depot from opposite sides of the town. The central holding facility and assay office for the gold mining company was situated at the town’s center; it was the hub of all activity. The workings themselves were a few miles off enclosed in a network of trenches where rich seams of the precious ore had been discovered.
Half of Placer City was under canvas, a tent city that created temporary settlement for the many miners employed by the company. A rough neighborhood where saloons and whorehouses proliferated. Ripe with poor drainage and steeped in unsanitary conditions. No more than a slum, where rotting waste shared space with stagnant pools that lay stinking on unpaved streets, making it an unpleasant area best avoided. The remaining buildings were sturdy wooden structures, storage and living quarters for the company’s officials.
The high, black painted and well-protected walls of the holding area loomed above the rest. Barb wire had been set along the edge of the flat rooftop and guards patrolled there day and night. A Gatlin gun was mounted on the walkway in front of the main doors, more as a threatening deterrent than of any practical use. For a full frontal attack was unlikely in the narrow streets leading up to the building and that was certainly not what Wyatt had in mind when he laid out his plan.
At a given signal, the Rebels came in with fire and noise from both sides of the township. Burning brands held high and whooping like mad things, the gray-clad patrol charged in and spread out. They had done this sort of thing many times before as raiders back in the War and knew how to terrify the occupants. The plan was to encircle the gold storage building and bring down the guards with concentrated fire. Resistance was not to be expected from the populace who were simple mining folk.
But they were surprised to find that they were met with surprisingly strong resistance. This was not a town full of helpless women and children and old people, these were mean-faced mining men with little to lose except their jobs and they did not plan on giving up their meal ticket so easily.
Guardeen and Thaddeus arrived as the assault raged through the streets. On a rise that overlooked the town, they sat their exhausted ponies and watched the battle.
“Looks like those Johnny Rebs are having their work cut out,” observed Guardeen, watching a group of miners on foot pull a rider from his horse and set about him with shovels and iron bars.
“Rightly protectin’ what’s theirs, seems to me,” Thaddeus said.
The tent city was afire, the canvas tents exploding into roaring blossoms of flame as stored coal oil and kerosene ignited. From the black building, guards fired down at the riders as they rode through the streets and the gray-clad soldiers suffered heavy losses. The Gatlin gun ripped blasts of bullets indiscriminately into the street, taking down as many unfortunate miners as invaders.
“Guess we’d better take a hand,” Guardeen said, dismounting. “Never know, might just hit that ass Wyatt.”
Thaddeus slid off his horse, unstrapped the carbine and lay out in a prone position whilst Guardeen knelt beside him. “You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Guardeen said, loading his Sharps.
“My, my,” whispered Thaddeus as he centered on a gray tunic. “Just like the old days.”
Chapter Twenty-One
When it was done, a restless silence fell over the smoldering town. The pair rode down from the hilltop. They made their way through the streets that bustled with victorious miners heading toward the depot building. Bucket chains were in action in a number of places, putting out the burning buildings. Groups of prisoners in gray were herded through the streets, their hands held high. Wounded and slain were carried and laid out in the plaza in front of the black building.
Although night had fallen, the scene was well lit by lanterns and the few still blazing buildings.
As Guardeen and Thaddeus rode into the plaza, a man stepped out onto the boardwalk in front of the black structure and hailed them. “You two do the shooting up on the hill?”
“Glad to help,” said Guardeen.
The man was a tall solidly built man with strong features and a double-breasted blue shirt bearing a gold shield badge. “Name’s Bill Jacobson. I run security for the company around here. You two boys saved my bacon a few times back there, I’m obliged. Step on down and I’ll buy you a drink.”
Guardeen leaned over his saddle horn and shook Jacobson’s extended hand. “Thanks but no thanks. We’re on the trail of the leader of these here renegades. Like to see his face amongst the taken or the fallen, if it’s all right with you?”
“You boys, help yourselves. You’re more than welcome after the show of shooting you put on. Been a while since I’ve seen such a fancy display. But your friend there, he a Confederate too?”
Thaddeus pulled at the sleeve of his ragged gray shell jacket. “No way, sir. They stripped my best store-bought clothes off me a ways back.”
“Really?
Well, I think we can do something about that.” Jacobson turned to one of the deputies that stood behind him in the shadows. “Cut along to the store and fetch this man a shirt and jacket, will you?”
The deputy obediently stepped down from the boardwalk and made off toward the storehouse.
“Hat would be appreciated too,” Thaddeus called after him. Then he returned his attention to the security chief. “Thank you for that, Mr. Jacobson. You’re a Christian man.”
“Don’t know as I feel any Christian sentiments right now. This gang of Rebels certainly took us by surprise and busted up the town. What’s the story on all this?”
“Well, I’m Nick Guardeen.” He dismounted. “And this fashion conscious fellow is my partner, Thaddeus Johnston. The Governor up in Phoenix asked–”
“Don’t you move a muscle, Guardeen!”
The cry came loudly from a shadowed corner on the far side of the plaza. “We got you covered. You move and you’re dead meat.”
Guardeen froze halfway up the boardwalk steps. “Why,” he called, “if it isn’t that stink-pit Gunnarson. I can smell you from way over here, Swede.”
“Never mind all the compliments, Guardeen! Step away from the building. You too, Johnston. Get down off your horse real easy.”
“You come alone,” Guardeen asked. “Or you bring that infant Billy Ray with you too?”
A high-pitched giggle emerged from out of the shadows. “Oh, I’m right here, Guardeen. Wouldn’t miss this for the world. And I’m drawing a bead on your forehead right this minute.”
“What’s all this about?” Jacobson asked. “Who are you fellows?”
“You just step back and stay out of this,” shouted Swede from the safety of the shadows. “None of your concern. Keep away and you won’t get hurt.”
“This here is my town, mister. And I’d take it kindly if you’d state your case plain.”
Swede ignored him. “Come on over here toward me, Guardeen. Do as I say because after what you did to Doolin, I don’t care if I take you back to Wyatt in one piece or many.”
