Ralph Compton Big Jake's Last Drive

by Robert J. Randisi

  * * *

  * * *

  Garfield could see that Major Seaforth was becoming impatient. This was an oddity, because as long as he’d known him, the man had more patience then Job. Maybe if he walked over to the table and put a bullet in the Mexican’s head, it would hurry things along.

  He started toward the table, deciding that he’d have his mind made up by the time he got there.

  * * *

  * * *

  Dundee made his way along the rear of the buildings, then down the alley next to the Red Cherry Saloon. He stopped at the mouth of the alley to check the street. Once he was sure it was still empty, he stepped out with the saddlebags on his shoulder and approached the batwing doors. The men inside were drinking and laughing. He knew if he threw all the dynamite sticks into the saloon, it would kill every one or most of them. But Jake had told him to toss them in one at a time. Up to this point, none of these men had any dealings with Big Jake Motley, and none of them had anything to do with the death of Chance McCandless.

  For a man out for revenge, Dundee thought Jake Motley was still being fairly logical in his thinking. Vengeance was usually the death of logic, in a man.

  But for now, Dundee would do what Jake wanted.

  He took out a single stick of dynamite, lit the fuse, and tossed it over the batwing doors . . .

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Garfield was reaching for his gun as he approached the table. The sound of the explosion literally saved Taco’s life, for he had decided to blow the little Mex’s head clean off.

  “What the hell—” Seaforth yelled, standing.

  When the second explosion came both Seaforth and Garfield ran for the door. Seaforth took a moment to turn to the bartender and say, “Point your shotgun at him. If he’s not here when I get back, you won’t be either.”

  He followed Garfield out.

  The bartender brought a shotgun out from beneath the bar and pointed it at Taco.

  “Señor,” Taco said, “you do not want to do that.”

  “You’re right, I don’t,” the man said. “But I will.”

  “Drop it!”

  Both the bartender and Taco turned toward the voice.

  * * *

  * * *

  Jake and Curly made their way to the rear of the Sunrise Saloon. There was a flimsy back door that they forced easily, and entered. They found themselves in a back storeroom; a doorway was across from them. When they reached it and looked through it, they saw the interior of the saloon.

  Jake resisted moving with the sound of the first explosion, but when the second one came, and Seaforth and Garfield ran out, he stepped through the door with his gun out.

  “Drop it!” he told the bartender.

  The bartender looked like he was about to cry.

  “Mister, I can’t,” he said. “The Major will kill me.”

  Curly moved in next to Jake, pointed his gun at the man, and said, “I’ll kill you if you don’t!”

  “I—I’ll kill the Mex first,” he stammered.

  “Wait!” Jake said. He moved farther into the room. “I have an idea,” he said to the bartender.

  “What?” the man asked, and his shotgun lowered an inch.

  Jake raised his gun and shot the man in the shoulder. The shotgun discharged harmlessly into the floor. The bartender sank from sight.

  Jake walked around the bar and looked down at the man, who was holding his shoulder.

  “There,” he said, “now Seaforth can’t say you didn’t try.”

  The bartender looked up at him, grimaced, and said, “Th-thanks.”

  There was a third explosion and Jake said, “Okay, that’s it. No more dynamite. Let’s go!”

  Taco sprang from his seat and followed Curly through the door to the storeroom. Jake backed his way to the door, covering them, then turned and ran.

  All three hurried out the back door and out of town, hoping that Dundee was doing the same.

  * * *

  * * *

  When Garfield and Seaforth exited the saloon they stopped and looked around, seeking the source of the noise. They saw a man down the street, standing in front of the Red Cherry Saloon.

  “There!” Seaforth said, and they started running.

  They had almost reached him when the man turned and saw them.

  “Kill him!” Seaforth shouted, drawing his gun. Garfield did the same.

  * * *

  * * *

  Dundee enjoyed both explosions.

  The laughter from inside the saloon turned to cries of pain and surprise. He might have tossed the dynamite farther into the saloon than Jake suggested, thereby injuring or killing some of the raiders. He’d apologize to Jake for that, later. Meanwhile, he might have reduced the threat.

  He turned and saw two men running toward him, recognized Major Seaforth. He knew Jake wanted to kill the man himself, but he still lit the fuse on the third stick of dynamite and threw it at the two men. It landed in front of them and exploded . . .

  * * *

  * * *

  As the stick of dynamite came toward them Garfield acted quickly. He turned, grabbed Seaforth around the waist, and took them both to the ground. The dynamite exploded, sending up a geyser of wood and dirt. When the cloud began to clear Garfield got to his feet, and helped Seaforth to stand.

  “Where is he?” Seaforth demanded.

  The man who had thrown the dynamite was nowhere to be seen.

  “Gone,” Garfield said.

  “Check inside the saloon,” Seaforth said. “I’m going back to that Mexican. He knows something.”

  They split up. Garfield ran to the Red Cherry while Seaforth headed back to the Sunrise.

  * * *

  * * *

  Jake, Curly, and Taco ran back to their horses, hoping to find Dundee there.

  “He’ll be here,” Curly said.

  “I’m gonna take Taco to his horse,” Jake said. “You wait for Dundee. We’ll meet you below that rise. Then we’ll put some distance between us and here and regroup.”

  “Got it,” Curly said.

  Jake mounted up, reached down to pull Taco up behind him. As he did so they saw Dundee running toward them.

  “What happened?” Jake asked.

  “I tossed the third stick at Seaforth and his man, and got out of there.”

  “Did you kill Seaforth?”

  “I doubt it,” Dundee said, “but I gave him an earache.”

  He and Curly mounted up, and they all rode to where Taco had left his horse.

  * * *

  * * *

  Seaforth entered the Sunrise Saloon and saw that it was empty. He could see where a shotgun blast had struck the floor. Then he heard a groan from behind the bar. When he went to look he saw the bartender on the floor, bleeding from the shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Major,” the man said. “I tried.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Two men.”

  “What’d they look like?”

  “One was older, one younger. The older one shot me.”

  “Motley!”

  Seaforth turned as Garfield came running through the doors.

  “How are the men?”

  “Two dead, four injured. Where’s that Mexican?”

  “Gone,” Seaforth said. “Big Jake and another man were here. They shot the bartender.”

  Garfield walked to the bar and peered over it at the injured man.

  “They can’t have gone far,” he said.

  “By the time we saddle up, they will,” Seaforth said. “Let’s see how many men we have who can ride. We can mount up and track them.”

  “And what about Sequoia and Walker?”

  “We’ll leave some injured men behind to tell them what
’s happening,” Major Seaforth said. “Then they can ride out and join us.”

  “How are they going to know where we are?”

  “Don’t worry,” Seaforth said. “That breed will track us down.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Since they rode out together they didn’t bother going back to the base of the rise they had been using to observe the town. Instead, they rode for some time until Jake felt they had put enough distance between themselves and Three Rivers, then stopped to rest the horses and take stock of their situation.

  “Did you kill anyone?” Jake asked Dundee.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Dundee answered honestly. “I may have thrown those sticks of dynamite deeper into the saloon than I intended.”

  “We’ll have to figure some of the men were injured,” Jake said.

  “That’s for sure,” Dundee said.

  “And maybe even Seaforth and his segundo,” Jake added.

  “I don’t think so,” Dundee said. “His man moved pretty fast to get him to safety.”

  “Okay, then,” Jake said, “if a third of the men in the Red Cherry were injured, that leaves ten men comin’ after us.”

  “What do you want to do, señor?” Taco asked.

  “What I’d like to do is get Seaforth away from his men so I can kill ’im,” Jake said.

  “How do we do that?” Curly asked.

  “The only way I can think of is to split up,” Jake said. “That way he’ll have to split his forces to track us.”

  “But he won’t know which tracks are yours,” Curly said.

  “And I won’t know which tracks he follows,” Jake added.

  “If we choose the place where we split up,” Taco said, “and you watch, you will see what tracks he picks.”

  “And then I can track him.”

  “So where do we do this?” Dundee asked. “And what do we do with the rest of the dynamite?”

  “Okay,” Jake started slowly, “this is what I’d like to happen. I want to isolate him as much as I can, and make this a him-or-me situation. After that, you fellas can do whatever you want with his raiders, and use all the dynamite you want.”

  Dundee and Curly looked at each other.

  “This could be fun,” Dundee said.

  Taco looked at Jake.

  “Only men this young would think of this as fun, señor.”

  “You and me, we know better, Taco,” Jake said. “Come on, let’s find a likely place to split up.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Seaforth rode to the livery on his horse and met his men out front, led by Garfield. All told, there were now eight of them. When they joined back up with Walker and Sequoia, they’d be ten.

  “Two of our men are dead, and two are injured,” Seaforth said. “We are going to catch the people responsible and make them pay. And we will not be returning to town until that is done.”

  He had told Garfield to make sure each man had enough water and beef jerky to sustain him for some time, as they would not be returning for supplies. They had coffee and a coffeepot, in case they had to camp overnight. Seaforth expected running Jake Motley and his men down to take more than a day. He just wished he had Sequoia with him to read sign. Without the breed, he was going to have to rely on Garfield.

  Seaforth looked at Garfield and nodded.

  “Let’s move out!” Garfield shouted.

  Garfield trotted his horse up to ride alongside Seaforth.

  “Where do we go first?” Seaforth asked.

  “I want to take a look where that Mex, Taco, said he left his horse,” Garfield said. “We might pick up some tracks from there.”

  “We’d better,” Seaforth said.

  “I’ll do the best I can, Sea,” Garfield said. “I’m no half-breed.”

  They rode around to the rear of the livery, then followed the directions Taco had given them to his horse—if he was telling the truth. As it turned out, he was. Garfield found the place where Taco had tied his horse, then dismounted to study the ground.

  “Well?” Seaforth demanded.

  “I’d say once they picked him up from town, they brought him here to his horse.” He stood up and faced Seaforth. “I’m seeing four horses, here.”

  “Four,” Seaforth demanded. “Less than he had last time.”

  Garfield walked to his horse and mounted up.

  “Shouldn’t be hard to follow the trail left by four horses,” he said to Seaforth. “And we’re only a couple of hours behind them.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Seaforth said, “just lead the way.”

  As he followed Garfield he still wished Sequoia would come back. He depended on Garfield as his second in command, but the breed was his tracker.

  * * *

  * * *

  Seaforth and his raiders only rode for twenty minutes before they saw two riders coming toward them at a gallop.

  “Who’s that?” Seaforth demanded of Garfield.

  “It’s Sequoia,” Garfield said. “And Walker.”

  Seaforth called a halt to his column of raiders and they waited for the riders to reach them. They reined in their horses in front of Seaforth and Garfield.

  “What brings you back?” Garfield said.

  “The breed said he heard explosions,” Walker said. “I didn’t hear nothin’.”

  “Dynamite,” Sequoia said.

  “You got that right,” Seaforth said. “It was Motley and three of his men.”

  “What happened?” Walker asked.

  “We’ll tell you on the way,” Seaforth said. “Sequoia, we’re following the trail of four men, according to Garfield.”

  Garfield pointed and Sequoia took a look.

  “He is right,” the breed said. “Four horses.”

  “You take the lead, then,” Seaforth said.

  “Whatever you say, boss,” Sequoia said.

  * * *

  * * *

  Jake and his men came to a three-pronged fork. It wasn’t a road, per se, but each path had definitely been well traveled and led into some South Texas brush country.

  “This should be it, señor,” Taco said. He looked around. “You can watch from those rocks.”

  “We can’t have each of you take a path,” Jake said.

  “Why not?” Dundee asked. “That’ll split their force into three.”

  “They’re gonna have to wonder where the fourth horse is,” Jake reasoned. “I’ll have to ride a ways with one of you, and then double back.”

  “Ride with me, señor,” Taco said, not wanting his friend to go off on his own.

  “Okay,” Jake said, “and hopefully, Seaforth himself will follow two of us, figuring I’d keep a man with me.”

  “Why would he figure that?” Curly asked.

  “Because I’m old,” Jake said. “Maybe I can catch him riding with only two other men.”

  “You’re not gonna take on three men by yourself,” Dundee said. “And he’ll probably take most of the men with him. He’s no fool.”

  “Dundee, if you get three men following you, you can handle them with the dynamite, right?”

  “Definitely,” Dundee said. “It would probably only take one stick.”

  “Okay, after you blow them to hell, double back and give Curly a hand.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll have Taco with me,” Jake said. “You help Curly with the men who follow him, Taco and I will handle the rest.”

  “You better save some of that dynamite,” Curly said.

  “Don’t worry,” Dundee said, “there’s plenty.”

  “Let’s go,” Jake said. “We’ve probably got a couple of hours on them. Plenty of time for me to double back and the rest of you to take cover and wait.”

  “So we can ambush ’
em?” Curly said.

  Jake looked at him. “You can do whatever the hell you like, as long as I get Seaforth.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Sequoia reined in as they reached the three-pronged fork.

  “They have split up here,” he said, pointing to the ground.

  “We’ll have to do the same,” Garfield said.

  “No,” Seaforth said.

  “Why not?” Garfield asked.

  “Sequoia,” Seaforth asked, “which way is the Mex’s horse going?”

  Sequoia studied the tracks. After they had told him about the Mexican, he had been able to isolate the tracks of the man’s horse. Luckily, he had a distinctive shoe on one hoof, for some reason.

  “There,” he said. “With the two riders.”

  “Then Big Jake’s riding with him,” Seaforth said.

  “Why would he do that?” Walker asked.

  “That Mex was a calm customer,” Seaforth said. “And he’s no kid. I think those two have been together for a while. And I think they’re together now.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “Send two men after each of those tracks,” Seaforth said, pointing to the single tracks. “The rest of us are going to follow these two.” He looked at the breed. “Sequoia, take the lead.”

  * * *

  * * *

  From the rocks above, Jake watched, hoping that they had figured it right, and the raiders would split into equal forces.

  To his dismay, Seaforth sent two after Dundee, and two men after Curly. He then took a force of six after his and Taco’s tracks. Only Taco was now alone.

  “Shit!” he swore.

  If they caught up to Taco, his Mexican friend wouldn’t have a chance against six men. Right now Jake wished he had some of Dundee’s dynamite in his own saddlebags.