Border Lords and Armstrong's War

by Lee Pierce

  “Sounds mighty temptin’, Tom. I believe I could smell out them boys. They ought to be stinkin’ real good about now.”

  “He can’t go with you, Tom,” said Pharaoh. He’s a sworn U.S. deputy marshal. He has to stay here with me and wait for the U.S. Calvary.”

  “Aw, Pharaoh, come on,” Silverjack said. “You said yourself all there is to do here is to squat on our spurs and wait for them soldier boys to show up. You can do that by yourself. I could make us some extra cash workin’ with ol’ Tom here. What do you say?”

  “There is no way you are going with him.” Pharaoh started to get angry. “Dammit, Jack, you swore the same oath to Arizona that I did. As many shady things as you’ve done in your life, I’ve never known you to go back on your word.”

  Silverjack’s head dropped, and he blew out a long, loud breath. “Ugh… shucks, Tom, this high-and-mighty do-gooder is right; I can’t go back on my word. Sorry, pard.”

  “Your loss, Jack. I’ll go alone.”

  They had grown silent when the saloon doors flew open, and Ollie Dunsmore came bursting in. Looking around and spotting the men at the back table, he ran to them. “Marshals, come quick!” he shouted. “One of the ladies who was hurt just died.”

  Silverjack and Pharaoh jumped to their feet and hurried for the door. Black Tom continued to sip his beer. As the three men hustled out the door, Ollie Dunsmore explained what had happened.

  “I stopped at the doc’s a minute on my way with the marshal’s clothes when it happened. Miz Cooney bolted upright in bed and started screamin’. The doc and Miss Boyett, the nurse, ran to her room, but it was too late. Miz Cooney was dead.”

  Just as the trio reached the doctor’s office, the sound of a pistol shot echoed from inside.

  Chapter 5

  Silverjack bolted through the door of the doctor’s office ahead of the pack. Inside he spied the young nurse. She was leaning against the far wall. Her hand covered her mouth, and she was crying.

  “We heard a gunshot,” Silverjack said.

  The nurse didn’t respond. Silverjack grabbed the sobbing woman and turned her to face him. She tried to pull away, but he held her tight. Pharaoh and Ollie barged in.

  “What happened?” Pharaoh yelled.

  “Mrs. Kleegler… Mrs. Kleegler shot herself.” She pointed a shaking finger toward a room the marshals hadn’t noticed before.

  Silverjack stayed to console the stricken nurse while Pharaoh and Ollie hurried into the room. Inside the cramped quarters, a narrow bed held a slender woman entangled in the sheets. A ghastly sight greeted the two men as they reached the foot of the bed—the wall behind it was splattered crimson and gray, and a smoking revolver hung by its barrel from her gaping jaw.

  Dead eyes stared to the ceiling. The back of the woman’s head was gone. Ollie tore his eyes away from the gore and wretched.

  Silverjack gently led the nurse outside. By the time he got her seated on a nearby bench, she had almost stopped crying. She sat staring into space with empty eyes. Silverjack stepped back inside the office, and in a moment returned with a wet cloth. Handing it to the nurse, he sat beside her. She wiped her tears and washed her face.

  “What’s your name?” said Silverjack.

  She didn’t look up. “Abby Boyett,” she said softly.

  “I’m Jack McDonald.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” said the stricken woman. “Why Lucasville? Nothing ever happens here. This has been a peaceful town ever since Dan got here.” She began to sob again.

  Silverjack placed his arm around her shoulders. “Dan Cable was a helluva good man and a friend of mine. I reckon you knew him pretty well, too.”

  Abby raised her head and stared at Silverjack with glistening red eyes. “Dan and I were going to be married a month from the day he was… he was killed.”

  Silverjack traced the scar on his face. He swallowed hard but said nothing. Momentarily, Pharaoh emerged from the office. He glanced down at Jack and jerked his head toward the street.

  Silverjack squeezed Abby’s hand and followed his partner into the street. They walked some distance away, out of Abby’s earshot.

  “Jack,” said Pharaoh through clenched teeth, “I’ve seen the elephant, but I’ve never set eyes on something like this. My God, those poor women.” He sucked in a short breath and purged it just as quick.

  Silverjack told him about Dan’s and Abby’s marriage plans. Pharaoh cursed and spat out the green stomach bile that had surged into his throat. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he looked Silverjack in the eyes.

  “We goin’ after those bastards?” asked Silverjack.

  “Yeah, Jack, we’re going after those bastards.”

  Black Tom Raines fidgeted as he sat on the bay gelding that Ollie Dunsmore had procured for him. “Hurry up if you’re going with me,” he hollered at the two marshals who were in the doctor’s office talking to Dr. Prater and Abby.

  Silverjack stepped outside and walked around Tom’s mount. He ran his hand over the horse’s muscular rump. “Looks like a whole lot of horse Ollie picked out for you, Tom. That waddy’s got a good eye for horseflesh.”

  “He’ll do, but I want my old horse, and I intend to get him back from the Comptons. They’re going to pay with blood for what they did to me.”

  “Does that mean you’re going with us to get Macias and his bunch?” Pharaoh had emerged from inside the office and was stuffing an oilskin-wrapped package inside his saddlebags.

  “Uh-uh.” Tom tensed his shoulders. Thick muscles rippled under his shirt. “I’m going far enough to find the bodies of Milo and his gang. That’s it. After I claim my reward, I’ll go after the Comptons.”

  “It don’t sound like you’ve got much confidence in us bringing them in, Tom.”

  A cavernous laugh rumbled from deep inside Tom Raines. “Jack, you two are as good as there is at trackin’ men, but you don’t know Mexico like I do. Hell, my mama was born in Juarez. I did half my raising down there. I speak the lingo, and I know the country like a Mexican. Y’all don’t have a darky’s chance in a KKK meeting of getting out of there with your hides intact. I expect there might even be a reward for the Comptons after you boys disappear.”

  “Damn, Tom, we saved your life. You’re a hard man.”

  “Yeah, Jack, I am. When you’re my color, you’ve got to be hard to survive.” He reined his horse around. “Are y’all going with me, or are you going to talk me to death?”

  Silverjack swung up into the saddle. Pharaoh had already mounted. As they turned their horses to leave, Ollie Dunsmore rode up leading two horses.

  “Here’s your pack animals, Mr. Raines. They’ll do the job for you.”

  Tom nodded and reached for the lead ropes. Ollie pulled back and held onto the ropes.

  Tom frowned and dropped his hand to his six-gun.

  “Hold on there, Mr. Raines,” Ollie said, his voice quivering. “I told you I’d have the horses, and here they are. They’re yours to use under one condition. I’ve been thinking a lot since you fellers came to town. We took Dan Cable for granted. Truth is, we didn’t know what we had in the marshal. So…”

  “What are you getting at, Ollie?” Pharaoh’s patience was growing thin.

  “Marshal Smith, I’m going with you.”

  “Boy,” said Silverjack, “you puked your guts up when you saw that dead woman. What makes you think you can go after the men who caused that?”

  “I’m goin’, marshal, and you can’t stop me short of killin’ me.”

  “Well, hell,” said Silverjack, unlimbering his .44.

  “Put it away, Jack,” said Pharaoh, shaking his head. “If he wants to go, he can. But I will tell you one time, Dunsmore: If you go froggy for any reason, I’ll run you all the way back to your mama. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir, I sure do.”

 
Tom laughed again and gouged his horse in the ribs. The startled animal lurched forward and broke into a run out of town. Ollie grinned and took off after him. Pharaoh looked at Silverjack and shrugged his shoulders. He spoke to Texican, and the mustang gelding took off at a gallop.

  Silverjack sat his saddle and watched the three riders kick up a whirlwind of dust. He removed his hat and ran a callused hand through his silver hair. “Well, hell again,” he said.

  Five miles from town, they found the graves. Six bodies lay in shallow cavities dug in the sand. Dirt, rocks, and broken tree limbs covered the dead Truax gang. Tom saw them first, and he let out a war whoop. Jumping from his horse, he inspected the gruesome site. Satisfied he had found what he was looking for, he jerked off his hat and slapped it against his leg.

  “Boys, this is my lucky day!” Tom bellowed. “I’ll load these hombres up and be in Gila Bend in three days. Then it’s onto San Francisco and high times for me.”

  “Looks like the Comptons didn’t waste too much time buryin’ these fellers,” said Silverjack.

  “They must have been in an awful big hurry to get to Mexico,” said Pharaoh. He rubbed his chin. “I find it strange that bounty hunters in possession of cash bounties just drop everything and ride into Mexico.”

  Jack shifted in his saddle. “What are you gettin’ at, Pharaoh?”

  “I’ve got a hunch the Compton Brothers are in some way connected to Carlos Macias. I can’t figure it out yet, but I bet there’s something to it.”

  “This is beginning to look like more than the sacking of a town,” said Silverjack. “You know we didn’t ask that banker if they got any money from the bank before they burned it down.”

  “He said he had locked the safe, and no one has mentioned any missing money,” Pharaoh said. “Still, it makes a man wonder.” He scanned the southern horizon. “Ollie, how far are we from the Mexican border?”

  “As the crow flies, Mexico is about two miles south of here, but there’s too much Organ Pipe cactus that way. You can’t hardly ride through that stickery stuff. The best place to cross is a wide gulley about ten miles southeast.”

  Pharaoh sighed. “All right, from now on we ride real careful. Chances are those boys are long gone, but there’s no use riding into an ambush. Ollie, you know the country. Lead us to that crossing.”

  There was an audible gulp from Ollie. His Adam’s apple bobbed like a cork on a fishing line, but he nodded and started heading southeast. Pharaoh fell in behind him.

  Silverjack stared down at Tom Raines, who was digging like an armadillo trying to get at the source of his future payday. “Wooeee, Tom,” said Jack,” how can you stand that God-awful smell?”

  Not even looking up, Tom answered, “Smells like money to me, Jack.”

  Letting out a disgusted snort, Silverjack spoke. “Tom, I always knew you liked to live high on the hog, but I never figured you for a polecat that would run out on a compadre. Go get your blood money. I hope one of them Frisco whores doses you up real good.”

  Tom ignored Silverjack’s remarks and kept on digging. Silverjack fingered his old knife scar and cursed under his breath. He jerked Bess’s head around and took off after his companions.

  Chapter 6

  The three men rode easy toward Mexico. When they reached the gulley that marked the boundary line, Silverjack rode ahead to scout the surroundings. Pharaoh and Ollie dismounted and walked their horses down the gully, searching for some shade. They found it underneath a narrow sandstone overhang. A half hour passed before Silverjack returned. He came riding down the gully, whistling. Pharaoh stepped from under the overhang and waved him over.

  “What did you find out, Jack?”

  “Looks like Macias and his bunch made camp about a mile south of here. There weren’t any signs of them being in a hurry. I found a separate set of horse tracks, probably the Comptons, but I didn’t find any sign of where they might have camped. Those fellers were hightailin’ it.”

  “I’ve thought a lot on it, Jack, and with what you found, I’m convinced now that the Comptons were supposed to meet Macias in Lucasville. I think they sidetracked to catch the gang they murdered and took too long doing it. That would explain their dumping the bodies in shallow graves and riding on in a hurry.”

  “Ollie,” Silverjack said, “what was in that bank to cause two gangs to attack Lucasville?”

  “I couldn’t say,” said Ollie, tightening his cinch. “There sure wasn’t any of my money in there. A cowhand spends all of his pay.”

  “You ain’t got any idea, huh?”

  “No, sir, I sure don’t.” Ollie kept fiddling with his saddle. “Shouldn’t we be headin’ after those fellas while we have daylight left?”

  Silverjack pursed his lips and stared at the lanky cowboy until Ollie swung into the saddle. Silverjack followed suit. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll lead y’all to where Macias camped.”

  The three men rode in silence until they reached the cold campsite, and then they searched around until they found some hoofprints leading due south. With Silverjack still in the lead, they moved out in single file, following the tracks. Torn-up sagebrush and trampled ground made the trail easy to follow. They made good time until dusk made the trail too hard to see.

  Ollie, who was in the middle, reined in his horse. “Say, fellas, I just now recognized where we are. There’s a little spring not too far from here. Got some trees, if I recollect. We ought to camp there.”

  Silverjack jerked Bess around and urged her up abreast of Ollie. He leaned over and stuck his nose in the cowboy’s face. “Say,” he said, “I was wonderin’. How come you know so blame much about Mexico, boy? You ride down here a lot, do you?”

  “Aw, marshal, heck, we have to ride over here all the time and round up strays. Don’t none of us like it, but it’s what we get paid for.”

  “Sounds like these Slash B boys do a whole hell of a lot for their pay, don’t it, Pharaoh?”

  “Ollie, take us to the spring,” said Pharaoh.

  Ollie glanced at Pharaoh and back at Silverjack.

  “Goddamnit, Pharaoh!” said Silverjack, “When I’m talkin’ to somebody, don’t you ever interrupt me. I don’t trust that boy no farther than I can throw him.”

  “Jack,” Pharaoh said, raising his voice, “Marshal Tolliver put me in charge. If you don’t like the way I’m handling things, ride. I can do this job without you. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah, I understand you, boss.” Silverjack spat into the dirt. “You’re still Mr. High and Mighty Pharaoh Smith. I thought you’d changed, but you ain’t. This ain’t over.” Jack spurred Bess in the ribs and took off.

  The spot Ollie had picked was a near perfect place to set up camp. Evidence of that lay in the remains of over a dozen old campfires scattered about the area. A tiny spring gurgled from under a flat rock into a gravel basin less than two feet across and a foot deep. The clean, clear water nourished ocotillos, desert sage, and a small stand of stunted mesquite trees.

  When Ollie got to the campsite, he jumped off his horse and tied her reins to one of the mesquites. “I’m gonna gather up enough dead wood for a fire,” he hollered. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He trotted around the knoll.

  Pharaoh and Silverjack dismounted and led their horses to the spring. They filled their canteens and then let the horses drink their fill. Silverjack took off his hat and ran fingers through his hair. “Pharaoh, somethin’ ain’t right about that waddie. For a man who didn’t throw in with Dan Cable when the marshal needed him, he sure seems anxious to get some revenge. I think he may be in cahoots with them outlaws.”

  “You could be right, Jack. This whole mess is getting more confusing. If Ollie is in on the deal, I wonder who else might be involved.”

  “Makes a man think. That’s for sure.”

  “Here comes Ollie back with an armload of wood. We’ll keep a cl
ose eye on him without tipping him off.”

  “I’m gonna do this my way,” said Silverjack.

  “Wait, Jack, let’s take this easy.” Pharaoh reached for Silverjack’s arm, but Jack shook him off.

  The cowboy dropped his load of wood at the marshals’ feet. “We’re in luck, fellas. I found a bunch of nice dry firewood just the other side of the knoll. We’ll have us a cook fire in no time.”

  “There won’t be a fire,” said Silverjack. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll make do with a cold camp.”

  “Aw, now, marshal, I got to have me a fire. I get cold real easy out in these chilly desert nights. My old, broke-up bones give me the rumatiz somethin’ awful. Shucks, there ain’t nobody within miles of here. I’ll just make a little fire.”

  Silverjack stepped over to Ollie, who was bending down and stacking some wood. He reached under the cowboy’s head, grabbed his bandana and jerked him to his feet. Jack wrapped his hand around the bandanna and twisted it tight enough to choke off Ollie’s breathing. The cowboy’s eyes bulged out like a squashed toad frog, and right away his face started turning purple. Pharaoh started to intervene, but Silverjack threw up a hand, and he backed off. Ollie looked on the verge of passing out.

  “Ollie, I’m gonna loosen this necktie and ask you a few questions. If I don’t like the answers, I’m gonna squeeze it so tight your head will fall off. If you understand me, do a little jig.”

  The purple-faced cowboy’s boots flopped around in the dirt. Silverjack loosened the bandanna, and Ollie gasped in a bucketful of air. He almost fell over, but Silverjack held him up.

  “First question, Ollie. Are you in cahoots with Macias and the others?”

  Ollie hesitated, and Silverjack wrenched the bandanna tighter. “Okay, okay,” the stricken puncher squeaked. “Please don’t choke me to death. I can’t stand any more.” Tears welled up in his eyes and balled up in the dirt caked on his face. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”