“How is, was your sister the last time you saw her?” Julie asked.
“She was alive, Mama. But they used her bad too.”
“Do you know where they took her, Susan?” Frank asked.
The girl shook her head. “No, sir. I don’t.”
“We’ll pull out in the morning,” Frank said. “Head for the next outlaw camp.”
“How far is that?” Julie asked.
“Couple of days’ ride, if we’re lucky. It’s rough country.” He looked over at Susan. “You feel like riding, honey?”
“I feel like killing those men who raped me, Mr. Morgan. And I will if you give me just half a chance.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way, Susan,” Frank replied. “But killing a man is a hard thing. It stays with you for a long time.”
“You remember every man you ever killed?” Julie asked.
“I damn sure remember the first ones, Julie. And I will until the day I die.”
“Well, let’s put it this way, Frank,” Julie said. “I’ll help her kill those rapists. And I’ll do it with a great deal of pleasure.”
“We’ll pull out at dawn tomorrow.”
* * *
“That’s Buck Mountain,” Frank said, pointing to a peak to the west and just north of where they were camped. “Muggyown Mesa is a few miles ahead of us. Enjoy this hot meal and the coffee. It’s the last we’ll have until we clear the outlaw camp tomorrow.”
“I want my gun now, Mama,” Susan said.
“What’s this?” Frank looked up. “Gun?”
“I can shoot, Mr. Morgan,” the fourteen-year-old said. “Papa made sure of that. I was helping fight Apaches when I was ten . . . several times.”
“You can shoot a pistol?”
“Pistol and rifle, Mr. Morgan. And I’m a very good shot with a rifle.”
Frank slowly nodded his head. “All right. But when I put you in position—both of you—you don’t move until I holler and tell you, understood?”
They both did.
Frank got one of the rifles taken from the outlaw camp, and a cartridge belt with every loop filled with .44-caliber rounds. He got a pistol and a belt from the same pack, and looked at it, and then at the petite young lady, then at her mother. “Are you sure about this, Julie?” he asked very dubiously.
“She can handle weapons, Frank. I know that for a truth. And she certainly has a right to be armed when confronting the men who kidnapped and assaulted her.”
Frank handed the weapons to Susan, then watched as the girl carefully checked both rifle and pistol. Frank smiled and nodded his head in approval.
“See what I mean, Frank?” Julie asked.
“I’m convinced.”
Frank rolled a cigarette, and then refilled his coffee cup and sat down. “About noon tomorrow we should be within a mile or so of the camp. I’ll leave you two and scout on ahead, locate the camp. Then I’ll be back and get you.”
“We’ll ride in?” Julie asked.
“We’ll walk in. Too much danger of the horses smelling each other and starting a ruckus. Both of you sit down and rest, have some coffee. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”
“I heard one of the outlaws say the Carter sisters would bring a pretty penny,” Susan said. “Said he knew a man in Tucson who would jump at the change to buy them. He’s bought girls before from some man called Mason.”
“He must be a sorry son of a bitch,” Frank said without thinking. He quickly looked up and said, “Excuse my language, ladies.”
“That’s all right, Frank,” Julie said. “No need to apologize. I wholeheartedly agree with you.”
“The outlaws said none of the hostages they now held would be sold out of the country,” Susan said.
Frank shook his head in disgust. “We’ve got telegraph wires and something called a telephone now. I’m told that over in Europe they’ve got machines that chug around powered by something called an internal combustion engine—whatever that is. But around here we’ve got people buying young girls for disgusting uses. Worse yet, we’ve got men who will kidnap the girls for profit.”
“Maybe we can put an end to it,” Julie said.
“I damn sure intend to try.”
“The outlaws said this Dooley person likes to do, well, really bad things to the prisoners,” Susan said.
“That’s the head of the snake,” Frank said. “I’ve got to kill him and I’ve got to make sure he’s dead.”
“A bullet to the heart would certainly do that,” Julie replied. “And I would be more than happy to fire the weapon that puts it there.”
“Me too,” Susan said.
Frank touched the handle of the big bowie knife he carried on his gun belt. “Cutting his heart out was more what I had in mind.”
“I’ll help you do that too,” Julie said.
Frank cut his eyes to her. The woman was grim-faced. She meant it. He looked at Susan. The young girl’s eyes had followed his hand to the knife.
“I’ll help you, Mother,” Susan said.
“I didn’t really mean that, ladies,” Frank said.
“We did,” mother and daughter said simultaneously.
Frank believed them. No doubt in his mind but that they would do it.
* * *
Frank guessed the number of outlaws in the camp at about twenty-five. He could not spot any hostages, nor could he see any sign they might be there.
He made his way back to Julie and Susan and told them what he’d observed.
“Are you suggesting we bypass this camp?” Julie asked.
“I’m saying it might be wise if we did just that.”
“But you don’t know for sure there are no hostages there, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Julie and Susan sat and stared at him. Dog came over and sat down beside Susan and stared at Frank.
“The two of you even managed to turn my dog against me,” Frank said with a smile. “All right, all right. We’ll all take a look at the outlaw camp. Then we’ll make up our minds what to do. Does that suit you?”
It did.
“Get your gear together and let’s go.” He looked at Dog. “You stay with Stormy. Understood?”
Dog showed him his teeth.
“Does that mean he understands?” Susan asked.
“I reckon so. At least he understands the word stay.”
While the women gathered up their gear, Frank unsaddled the horses and rigged up a flimsy corral of sorts. If no one came back from the outlaw camp, the horses could easily break out of the makeshift corral when they got thirsty.
“Let’s go,” Frank told Susan and her mother. And pray, he silently added, that we aren’t making one hell of a mistake.
Nine
Frank got the women into position, then made his way closer to the camp for a long second look. He visually checked every part of the camp he could see. He could spot no hostages, nor could he see any sign that any of the kidnapped women had ever been there.
He was just about to slip back to Julie and tell her to get her daughter so the three of them could haul their asses out of there when someone in the outlaw camp yelled.
“Hey! They’s someone in them rocks over yonder.”
“Where?” another man hollered.
“Right over yonder,” the man shouted, pointing in the direction of Susan. “It looked like a young boy. Come on. Let’s check it out.”
“I’d rather it was a young girl,” another man said, standing up and picking up his rifle. “I could use me a taste of a young girl.”
“It is a young girl,” another man hollered. “I seen her just then. Ain’t no boy got a butt like that.”
The tents that were scattered around the camp area began emptying of outlaws, all of them armed.
One man started running toward the jumble of rocks where Frank had left Susan. “I get furst dibs if’n I lay hands on her furst!” he hollered.
“The hell you say,” the man who’d fi
rst spotted Susan yelled. “I seen her ’fore anybody else. She’s mine, goddamnit.”
It was the last thing either of them would ever say, until they met up with Old Nick. Susan’s rifle cracked and Julie’s shotgun boomed. A blossom of crimson appeared on the chest of the man who received the load of buckshot from Julie. He was stopped in his tracks for half a second, then shoved backward as if hit by a giant fist.
The man who got himself lined up in Susan’s gun sights hit the ground minus part of his head. Susan’s .44 round had struck him in the center of his face and angled off to the right as it exited, taking with it a glob of gray matter, blood, and bone.
“Good God!” another outlaw yelled, pausing in his running to stare at the man who was missing part of his head. Those were the last words he would speak as Frank’s .44-40 sang his death knell. The outlaw crumpled to his knees and died in that position, his arms by his side, hands clinched into fists against the ground.
Outlaws began jumping for cover as Frank, Julie, and Susan opened up, firing as rapidly as they could.
When the last surviving outlaw finally reached cover, there were eight men sprawled on the ground, dead or dying. And Frank knew that several more had been wounded, but were still able to walk or run for cover.
“Wonderful,” Frank muttered. “Only about twenty or so to go.”
Frank was on the south side of the encampment, Susan on the north side, Julie in the rocks to the west of the camp. To Susan’s left there was a clearing. The outlaws would not try to cross that in any attempt to circle around behind them, for it was too wide-open. To Frank’s right, there was a creek, then a small clearing before the camp area. Any assault from the outlaws would have to be made head-on, and that was about the only good thing to be said about the position of the three of them.
“Are you boys from what’s left of Mason’s gang?” someone tossed out. “If you is, we can maybe talk a deal.”
“No deals,” Frank called.
“Who are you?” another voice called.
“Frank Morgan.”
“Frank Morgan!” several men shouted in unison.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, another man called, “What’s your trouble with us, Morgan? How come you want to buy into this hand?”
“I was with the small wagon train you bastards ambushed.”
“Damn!” another outlaw said.
“But we didn’t kill you, Morgan. Hell, that ought to count for somethin’, shouldn’t it? You ain’t got no other stake in this.”
“You shot me,” Frank said. “And you kidnapped some young girls. I want those girls back.”
“We ain’t got no girls here, Morgan. They’re gone.”
“Gone where?”
There was just enough hesitation on the outlaw’s part to let Frank know he was about to hear a lie.
“Ah . . . we don’t know, Morgan.”
“You’re a damn liar!” Frank called.
There was no reply to that. Frank didn’t think there would be.
“Morgan?” The shout came from another part of the outlaw camp.
“Right here,” Frank called.
“We tell you where the girls was tooken, you cut us some slack?”
“Maybe.”
“You shet your damn mouth, Barlow!” a man yelled. “Val Dooley will cut off your balls and feed ’em to the hogs.”
“Hell with Val Dooley,” Barlow called. “Dooley ain’t here like we is. Lookin’ down the barrel of Frank Morgan’s rifle.”
“Let’s rush him!” another hollered.
No one immediately replied or jumped up.
After a few seconds, a man yelled, “You want to rush him, Jenks, you lead the charge. How about that?”
“It was just an idea,” Jenks replied without exposing himself from behind cover.
“Lousy idea,” another said.
“Them girls was tooken south, Morgan,” Barlow called. “Either right there where the Vedre splits or southwest of the Sierra Anchas, ’tween there and the Tonto. I don’t know exact.”
“All right, Barlow,” Frank called. That jibed with the map Frank had. “Go get your horse and clear out. Ride like the devil is bitin’ you on the butt. You understand?”
“I shore do. I’m gone, Morgan. You’ll not see nor hear from me never again.”
“I’ll kill you personal, Barlow!” a man called. “You yeller dog!”
“Hell with you, Sims,” Barlow yelled. “I’m gone and by God I’m done with you.”
“Hold up, Barlow,” another man yelled. “Me and Hank and Reb want to go with you. That all right with you, Morgan?”
“Suits me. Ride out fast and don’t come back.”
“You don’t have to worry ’bout that. We’re gone.”
“Goddamn you all!” Sims yelled. “You’re all dead men. I’ll make shore Val Dooley knows what you done. Count on that.”
“By God, I ain’t runnin’!” a man yelled, and jumped up, both hands full of Colts spitting fire and lead.
Frank shot him, drilled him in the chest with a single rifle shot. The man fell back and kicked a couple of times, then was still . . . and very dead.
The sounds of several horses galloping away quickly faded into silence as those outlaws who chose life over death rode away.
“Now what, Morgan?” Sims called. “Come the night, we’re sure to get you all. You gots to know that.”
“Come the night, Sims,” Frank replied, “you’ll all be dead. I do know that.”
“Big talk, Morgan! Big talk. That’s all it is.”
“It’s enough for me,” a man called.
“Me too,” another said. “Them people got the highest ground and they’re hid out in the rocks and brush. Me and Irish is gone.”
“Cowards!” Sims yelled. “Craven cowards, that’s all you is.”
A few minutes later, the sounds of horses galloping away reached the trio in the rocks and the outlaws in the camp.
Frank spied what he was sure was a boot sticking out from behind a tree on the far side of the camp. He took careful aim and squeezed off a round.
“Owwww, damn!” a man bellered. “I’m shot, boys. He done shot off part of my foot. Oh, Lordy, it hurts so bad.”
“Somebody go help Nick,” Sims ordered. “Noah, you be the closest to him. Lend him a hand.”
Noah tried. But Susan was right on him with her rifle, plugging him in the belly.
“That’s it for me,” a man yelled. “I’m out of here. Let me leave, Morgan? I promise you I won’t be back.”
“Ride out,” Frank told him.
“You won’t shoot me, Morgan?”
“I didn’t shoot any of the others.”
“I’ll shoot you, you yeller bastard!” Sims hollered. “If I ever see you again, I’ll gonna kill you.”
“You ain’t never gonna see me again. I’m gone. Hell with you, Sims.”
Sims was still cussing as the man rode out.
“Seems like your gang is deserting you, Sims!” Frank called. But his eyes had picked up movement near the creek bank. He talked, but kept his eyes on the spot where he had detected movement. “Pretty soon it’s just going to be you and me.”
“I’ll gut-shoot you, Morgan!” Sims yelled. “And stand over you and laugh while you die. What do you think about that?”
“I think it’s a lousy idea.” Frank lifted his rifle as he again saw movement by the creek. “And it isn’t going to happen.”
“I think it will,” Sims yelled.
Frank sighted in on what appeared to be a shadow in the branches of the trees along the bank and squeezed off a round. He heard a scream and then a lot of thrashing around and cussing by the creek.
“I’m hard hit!”the man called. “Oh, I’m bleedin’ bad. Blood’s a-pourin’ outta me like I was a stuck hog. Help me, please.”
“I ain’t movin’,” a man called from the other side of the camp. “Them damn people over yonder is too good a shots for me to risk my butt for
the likes of Charlie.”
“I heard that, you sorry son!” Charlie hollered. “Sims. . . you send somebody over here to help me.”
“I didn’t tell you to git yourself shot, Charlie,” Sims replied. “You’re on your own over yonder.”
“Damn you to hell!” Charlie bellered. “I’m a-bleedin’ to death over here.”
“Well, do it quietly,” another voice added.
“Hell with you too, Noble!” Charlie said. “You just as turd-sorry as Sims and all the others. You’re all a bunch of yeller skunks. Ooohhh!” he yelled. “The pain is awful, I tell you. Somebody come over here and help me.”
No one from the outlaw side offered to help.
“So much for honor among thieves,” Frank yelled.
“My foot is hurtin’ somethin’ awful!” Nick yelled. “And I’m a-bleedin’, too. My foot is broke.”
“Too bad he didn’t shoot you in the mouth!” a man hollered.
“You’re a low-down skunk, Harwood!” Nick called. “I hope Morgan shoots you in the privates.”
Susan’s rifle cracked and a man grunted. He stood up in the rocks, his belly bloody, and looked down. “I been shot!” he yelled. “Oh, Lordy!”
Julie’s Greener boomed, and another outlaw who had made the mistake of shoving a leg out of cover screamed in agony. “Oh, my God!” he screamed. “My leg is blowed off. My leg is blowed off.”
A man jumped up to run to the outlaw’s aid, and Susan’s rifle cracked. The outlaw went down in a seemingly boneless heap.
“I’m gone!” another outlaw yelled. “They got the high ground and the best cover. We’re all just easy targets here. I’m out of this, Morgan. You hear me? I’m done.”
“I hear you,” Frank called. “Ride out.”
Rescue Page 6
