Destiny Of The Mountain Man

by William W. Johnstone

  “Damn, it’s as big as most of the towns around here.”

  “Who’d want to live there?” Pettis asked. “They don’t have any saloons.”

  Some of the men laughed, but it took only one glance from Brandt to quiet them.

  “Muffle all horses and equipment,” Brandt ordered. “Pass it down.”

  “Muffle all horses and equipment.”

  “Muffle all horses and equipment.”

  The order was passed down the line until it could no longer be heard by those on the front rank.

  Brandt, Stone, Waco, Preston, Pettis, and all the other riders dismounted, then tied pieces of burlap around the hooves of the horses. The horses didn’t like it, and a few tried to avoid it, but soon, every hoof was wrapped. Next, the reins and harness were wrapped as well; then, when all was prepared, Brandt gave the order to remount and proceed at a walk.

  An owl in a tree watched transfixed as the column of men and horses passed by with very little sound. Finding the sight of such a large body of silently moving creatures disturbing, the owl hooted, then took off, the flapping of his wings unusually loud in the silence of the night.

  Inside one of the small houses, Rosita Juarez was awakened by a sound that seemed somewhat different from the regular night symphony of insects, barn animals, and distant coyotes. She lay in bed for a moment, listening to see if she could hear it again, but she heard nothing.

  Then the baby turned over and her crib creaked, and Rosita smiled and looked over at her. It was the baby she’d heard.

  “Duerma bien, mi Carmelita pequeño,” she murmured.

  Then, snuggling next to her husband for warmth, she went back to sleep.

  As Brandt and his riders drew closer to the ranch and outbuildings, they could hear the sounds of the ranch. In the stable a restless horse kicked the wall of its stall. Out in the lot, a horse whickered. The windmill, gleaming softly in the moonlight, clanked as it answered a freshening breeze, then turned into the wind with its spinning blades scattering slivers of silver into the night.

  “Spread out into a company front,” Brandt said, and the riders at the rear of the column came up to either side until Brandt presented one long rank of men and horses, side by side, as they faced the ranch.

  “Pass it down, right and left. Everyone but the torch men, draw weapons,” Brandt ordered, still keeping his voice low.

  The weapons were drawn.

  “Torch men, light your torches,” Brandt ordered.

  Every third man in the formation lit a torch so that, soon, there were twenty blazing torches. The torches gave out a wavering orange light that brightened the night considerably.

  Brandt held his sword over his head, then looked up and down the line. “Charge!” he shouted.

  As one, the men and horses moved down the hill like an invading wave of fire. All attempts at silence having ended now, the horses at full gallop threw their cloth mufflings off so that the hooves thundered across the plain.

  “Fire!” Brandt shouted and, concurrent with his command, forty men began firing their pistols into the houses of the little village. They swept through the houses, still unopposed, and as they passed by the buildings, the torch men threw their torches.

  Almost immediately, several of the Mexican homes caught fire.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Sally was the one who heard it first, the sound of galloping hooves from some distance away. She’d opened her eyes wondering what it could be when she heard the first shots fired.

  “Smoke!” she said, shaking him in the bed beside her. “Smoke!” she called again.

  She hadn’t actually needed to call him the second time. He woke when she first said his name, and even as he was waking, he heard the sound of gunfire.

  Quickly, Smoke got out of bed and looked through the window of the guest bedroom. At first it was too dark to see anything, even by the light of the silver moon. Then he saw the several gleaming objects arcing through the sky. A moment later, a couple of the buildings caught fire, and in the orange glow, he could see dozens of riders, moving back and forth, firing into the houses of King’s Settlement.

  “It’s Brandt!” Smoke said. “It has to be!”

  Even as Smoke was pulling on his trousers, he heard a loud knock on his door.

  “Smoke! Smoke, wake up!”

  The man outside his door was Richard King. Smoke nodded at Sally, who by now had put on a robe. Sally opened the door and King was standing just outside, holding a burning candle.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Smoke said as he pulled on his boots.

  Within a matter of seconds, Smoke was running down the stairs with King just behind him. Kleberg, whose room was on the first floor, met them at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Should we turn out the men?” Kleberg asked.

  “Yes,” Smoke said. “Tell them to get their horses saddled. I’m going to get a rifle and get up into the loft of the barn and see if I can get a shot.”

  “Your rifle won’t be any good at that range,” King said.

  “Maybe not, but I’m going to try.”

  “Wait,” King said, heading toward a walnut cabinet. “Take this.” King handed Smoke a heavy rifle with a polished walnut stock and grip.

  “Nice weapon,” Smoke said.

  “It’s a Sharps Fifty,” King said. “It’s accurate from a mile away.”

  “Ammunition?”

  “Here’s a whole box of shells,” King said, handing over a box of the large, heavy shells.

  With rifle in hand, Smoke left the house, then started to spring toward the barn. Pearlie and Cal were sleeping in the bunkhouse, and they met Smoke about halfway between the house and the barn.

  “Get everyone up, dressed, armed, and saddled,” Smoke shouted as he ran by.

  “Right,” Pearlie replied, turning back toward the bunkhouse.

  Smoke climbed the ladder to the barn loft, then lay down and looked through the window. By now several houses were burning, and he could hear men shouting and women screaming above the sound of the guns. He could also hear babies crying.

  Smoke opened the breech of the big rifle, slid a shell in, closed the breech, then sighted down the barrel. In the light of one of the burning houses, he saw a man on a horse. The man was aiming a pistol. Smoke couldn’t see the man’s target, but he didn’t care.

  Smoke pulled the trigger. The rifle boomed and rocked back against his shoulder. An instant later he saw the pistol shooter being knocked off his horse.

  Smoke ejected the smoking empty cartridge and put another bullet in. A moment later he found a second target, then squeezed the trigger. Like the first man, this one threw up his arms and tumbled from his saddle.

  When Brandt saw the first of his men tumble from the saddle, he thought someone might have shot him from one of the little houses. But he heard the bullet that hit the second man, and he knew that it came from a long way off. Looking back toward the shadows of the main house, he saw a wink of flame from the muzzle blast, and an instant later, a third of his men fell.

  “Sergeant!” Brandt yelled. “Order the withdrawal!”

  “Pull back!” Stone shouted. “Pull back!”

  “What the hell we pullin’ back for?” one of the men shouted. “We ain’t even had a chance at any of the women yet!”

  He had no sooner gotten the words from his mouth than he was hit in the chest by a bullet that was so heavy that it opened up a fist-sized hole.

  Because he was protesting the pullback, several of the others just happened to be looking at him at the moment of impact. Realizing then that they were being picked off, one at a time, by someone so far away that they couldn’t even see him, they were on the verge of panic.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here!” someone shouted, and his fear spread through the others so that, like a flock of birds suddenly taking flight, everyone turned and galloped away, leaving half-a-dozen houses burning behind them.

  By now Pearlie, Cal, and all the cowboys
were dressed and had come to the stable to saddle their horses. In the barn, Smoke stood up and walked to the edge of the loft where he could look down at the men from the open window.

  “Pearlie,” he called. “Take ten men with you and follow them.”

  “Follow them?” Pearlie replied. “I want to do more than follow them. I want to catch the bastards.”

  “It’s too late to catch them now. They have too much of a head start and you’ll never find them in the dark. All I want you to do is make sure they don’t decide to come back.”

  “All right, Smoke, if you say so,” Pearlie said.

  Smoke jumped down from the loft and threw a saddle on Stormy.

  “Where are you going, Smoke?” Cal asked.

  “To see what I can do to help down in the quarters,” Smoke said.

  The bucket brigades could do nothing for the houses that were already burning, but by wetting down the adjacent houses, they were able to prevent the fires from spreading any further. They also searched for people who had been wounded by the attack, and moved them to safety.

  The fires snapped and popped as they burned and the area was bathed in a hellish, orange glow that created patches of light and dark. That created the illusion of rescue workers appearing and disappearing as they moved in and out of the light and dark.

  Smoke and a few other men took a long pole and used it to collapse one burning house in on itself to prevent the fire from spreading any farther. It fell in with a roar, and the flames leapt up, but the purpose was accomplished because the fire was contained.

  Standing back, Smoke wiped the back of his hand against his face, leaving a black smudge. Looking around, he saw Ramon standing with a Mexican woman. The woman was weeping almost uncontrollably.

  Seeing Smoke looking toward him, Ramon came over to talk to him.

  “Who is that?” Smoke asked.

  Ramon looked back toward the weeping woman. “Her name is Rosita.”

  “Was this her house?” Smoke asked. “If so, I’m sorry we had to collapse it like that, but we had no choice.”

  “No, everyone understands that we had to destroy some houses to save the others,” Ramon said. “Rosita’s house wasn’t damaged.”

  “Oh,” Smoke said, understanding then. “She lost someone, didn’t she?”

  “Her baby was killed,” Ramon said. “When the riders came down and started shooting up the place, a bullet went into her baby’s crib.”

  “Oh, damn,” Smoke said. He sighed and shook his head. “Oh, damn.”

  “Look out!” someone shouted, and Smoke looked around just as another house collapsed in on itself. The flames roared up, then sent a huge shower of sparks climbing into the sky to disappear among the stars.

  “How many were killed?” Smoke asked.

  “Eleven,” Ramon said. “Four are women, three are children, including Rosita’s baby.”

  “Wounded?”

  “Seven, but fortunately, none of the wounds seem that severe.”

  King and Kleberg joined Smoke and Ramon then. Like Smoke, King’s face was blackened from the smoke and burnt wood. King shook his head.

  “This is awful,” he said. “This is almost as bad as it was when he raided the ranch during the war. The only difference is, I wasn’t here then, and I told myself that it could never have happened if I had been here.” King sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, I am here now,” he said. “And it didn’t make any difference. It didn’t make one damn bit of difference. Brandt came in here and burned the houses and killed women and children, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.”

  “How many people got put out of their homes?” Smoke asked.

  “I’m not sure,” King answered. “Bob, a count.”

  “Seven houses were completely destroyed, four were so badly damaged that people can’t live in them now, and three more were partially damaged,” Kleberg said.

  “Ramon, tell your people that we will rebuild the houses right away,” King said, quickly. “And we’ll repair the ones that need it.”

  “My people know that, Captain King,” Ramon replied. “They are sorry that this trouble has fallen on you.”

  “On us, my friend,” King said, putting his hand on Ramon’s shoulder. “It has fallen on us.”

  “Where will the people stay until the houses are rebuilt?” Smoke asked.

  “Do not worry about that, Señor Smoke,” Ramon replied. “We are all friends and family here. We will make room for those who lost their homes. And if there isn’t room for everyone, Padre Bustamante will make room for them in the church.”

  “Pearlie, they are heading toward the Santa Gertrudis,” Barrett said. “They probably think there is only one ford, and that’s the one some miles west of here. But I know another one that’s a lot closer. If we go this way”—he pointed to the southeast—“I think we can beat them across and be waiting on the other side.”

  “Wait a minute,” Spitz said. “Are you talkin’ about the Garza ford?”

  “Yes,” Barrett said.

  “That’s a bar that’s no more’n four feet wide. That’s not a place to cross in the dark.”

  “I know it ain’t,” Barrett said. “That’s why I know they’re goin’ to go all the way to the other ford to get across.”

  “Can you get us across this Garza ford in the middle of the night?” Pearlie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “There’s another thing you might want to think about,” Spitz said. “I mean, I don’t know if you boys seen the raiders as well as I did, but there was at least forty or fifty in that bunch, maybe more. And if you look around, there’s only ten of us.”

  “Do you think they would expect us to beat them across the river and be waiting for them?” Pearlie asked.

  Spitz shook his head. “I doubt they even know about the Garza ford. No, I’m sure they won’t be expecting us.”

  “Then we’ll just hide and wait for them as they cross,” Pearlie said. “We won’t attack them head-on, but I do intend to get a few licks in. Lead the way, Barrett.”

  Riding hard, Pearlie, Barrett, Spitz, and the others reached the Santa Gertrudis. Then, with Barrett leading the way, they crossed the ford in single file.

  Once on the other side, they rode quickly down the river until they reached the Duval ford, which was wide enough to drive entire herds of cattle across.

  “You and you, stay back here and hold our horses,” Pearlie said, choosing two men that he knew were not among the best shots.

  “What the hell, and miss out on the fun?” one of the men asked.

  “Don’t gripe about it, Billy, they do it this way in the Army,” Barrett said. “When the cavalry fights dismounted, one in four holds the horses.”

  “Yeah,” Billy said. “But why me?”

  “ ’Cause you can’t hit a bull in the ass from forty paces,” Spitz said, and the others laughed.

  “Come on, let’s get in position,” Pearlie ordered, and the men ran, crouched over, along the bank of the stream until they found places that provided both cover and concealment.

  They waited for almost an hour, so long that they were losing the cover of darkness, but still, they had seen no one. The sun was not yet up, but it had grown much lighter in the east, and distant objects began to come into view. Pearlie was beginning to wonder if Brandt’s men had managed to cross the stream ahead of them, and was about to call the whole thing off when they heard the sound of hoofbeats.

  “Get ready!” Pearlie called to his men. “Fire when I fire.”

  It was now light enough for Pearlie to see what they were up against, and he gasped at the size of the army. There were at least sixty, maybe more, and they hit the stream at a gallop, churning up the water so that a fountain of bubbles was sustained as they came across.

  At first, Pearlie was going to fire while they were in the river, but at the last moment he held back, reasoning that if he took them on head-on, they would have no choice but to come after t
heir attackers. So, Pearlie waited until they were across and started down the road before he opened fire.

  Immediately after he fired the first shot, the others in his group started shooting. He had the satisfaction of seeing three men fall from their saddles, and a fourth grab his arm.

  Riding at the head of the column, Brandt didn’t even realize immediately that they were under fire. When he did discover it, he had no idea how many there were, so he reacted as any military leader would when caught in an ambush. He moved his men quickly through the killing grounds. Standing in his stirrups, he shouted the order back to his men.

  “Forward at a gallop!”

  The raiders broke into a gallop, riding away quickly, paying no heed whatever to the men they were leaving behind.

  After Brandt was gone, Pearlie and the others moved out to examine the men who were lying on the ground. “I need one of them alive,” he said to the others. “I want to question him.”

  “Pearlie, this one is still alive,” Spitz called from one of the bodies.

  Pearlie hurried over to him, then looked down at the wounded man.

  “What is your name?” Pearlie asked.

  “Why should I give you my name?” the man answered.

  “Because we’re about to bury you,” Pearlie replied. “Don’t you want your friends and family to know where you are?”

  “I ain’t got no friends or family,” the man said. He chuckled. “And if nobody knows where I am, maybe the devil won’t be able to find me.” He tried to laugh at his own joke, but it turned into a couple of wheezing coughs; then he died.

  “What now?” Barrett asked.

  “We’ll bury them,” Pearlie said. “Then we’ll get back to the ranch and see what we can do to help out.”

  “Major, those men who attacked us,” Stone said. “Where the hell did they come from?”