by Lou Bradshaw
Just as I was getting into the danger zone, I heard two shots, and I saw the muzzle flashes…one from down below, and one from higher ground, and then another from the high ground… and then there were no more. Logic told me that the one from up above was Pedro, but gunfights don’t always follow logic… especially in the dark. So I just moved closer to where the upslope shots came from.
“Pedro… Is that you, Pedro?” I asked from behind a tree.
“Yeah, it’s me. Come on out… it’s clear.” Came the whispered reply. I stepped around the tree and let that Winchester answer for me. My first one hit him somewhere, and it was enough to throw off his shot because it went into the branches overhead. I put another shot on either side of his muzzle flash…. I hadn’t heard Pedro say one single word, let alone a whole bunch of them.
I stepped around the tree from the other side and was at his side in a second. He was flat on his back and laying spread eagle on the ground. Feeling around in the dirt and grass, I recovered his pistol, and then I checked to see if he was still breathing. He was, so I gave him a good conk on the head with the barrel of his sixgun and stuck it in my belt.
That meant that Pedro was somewhere down slope, and I didn’t know if he was alive or dead… or somewhere in between. If he was hurt, I had to get to him. If he was dead, I’d have to close up ranks and cover Baca’s flank from this side. There had been no sound from the far end. I didn’t know what that meant.
It could mean that there were no outlaws working that end, or he may not have found them yet or the other way around. I couldn’t worry about Baca right now, I had to find Pedro and then worry about my next move.
Moving down slope as quietly as I could, I was putting each foot softly on the ground and feeling what was under it through my moccasins. It was taking a long time, but that was the only way I knew to do it. A snapping twig or a crunch of a pine cone could end my life quickly, and I wasn’t eager to let that happen.
I had been moving from tree trunk to tree trunk, hoping to blend in with the bulk of those trunks. A little more than halfway down, I drew up behind an especially broad old pine figuring to not push my luck too far too fast. I stood still, barely breathing, not wanting to make any noise at all, so I could listen for any kind of movement. Then I heard the chirp.
It was the kind of noise that Pedro had made on the trail to get our attention. I chirped in reply, and I was given another sound that he had made on the trail, which is hard to describe, a flutter of dove wings, but it wasn’t. None of his noises sounded right in a forest, but then again… they did.
I moved to the sounds and found him lying on the ground. He had a sixgun pointed in my direction with every intention of using it if I had turned out not to be me. I was most happy to be me at that moment.
He had been wounded in the meat of the thigh. It was bloody front and back, but I couldn’t tell if it had broken the bone, or cut any big blood vessels. The best I could do for him at that point was to tie my kerchief around his leg and hope I could keep him from bleeding to death till I got him up the hill.
That’s when I heard the horses leaving out on the flat. They were pulling back. There were other horses coming up from Baca’s position. They rode close to the tree line; there were two men and a riderless horse. As they rode past our position, they both opened fire. I took that as a good sign. They were frustrated and mad.
That riderless horse told me that Baca had been doing his part. I calculated that they were down by four men. That fella that said there were ten of them didn’t say if that meant ten bounty hunters plus those who were part of the regular gang, which would have been maybe five or six more… I just didn’t know.
With Pedro using his rifle butt as a walking stick and my right shoulder to lean on we made it up the slope to our original camp. At that point, I was pretty sure anyone left on this slope who wasn’t us, was in no position to hurt anybody or even breathe. With that thought in mind… I made a fire. They knew where we were, and they knew the price they’d have to pay to get up here…. Their choice.
Once I had enough light to see how bad Pedro was hurt, it was a through and through hole without a lot of blood loss. It was gonna be sore and he’d need to stay off it, but he’d live if it didn’t get poisoning. The only thing I had for infection was whiskey, and when I poured it on the hole, he never even twitched.
I tore up one of his shirts for a pad, and wrapped it up real tight. I helped him move back into the rocks and set him up to defend himself, and then I went back to my spot to get my other rifle and bedroll.
When I got back, I found Baca sitting by the fire making coffee. He looked like hell, so I told him to grab some sleep and I’d keep watch. He didn’t argue. I went and tended the horses, putting them on fresh grass and giving each some water. We may need those horses to save our hides, and I wanted them in good shape when if we did.
When the sun was turning the sky red and yellow, Baca roused and woke up. Over his coffee cup he looked at the sky and said, “Red in the morning… maybe rain will come.
“If we get a good downpour,” I said “maybe we should scoot out that back door crack in the wall, and lay for ‘em on the trail.”
He thought about that, and said, “Perhaps not, but we could take shelter there, and when they attack again, the only thing they will find are the bodies of their compadres. If they go back to the buildings, we can return here and continue to thin their company.
It was Pedro who again came up with the best suggestion. He opened his mouth to speak, nothing was coming out, but suddenly he said, “S-s-sstay… w-w-w-we…. g-g-g-got cover here.”
Well, I’ll be… there weren’t nothing wrong with Pedro. He was just a stutterer.
It was agreed that we’d be as well off here as anywhere, so we proceeded to dig in and get ready for what was to come later in the evening. Baca had found a seep a few hundred yards back, so the horses were taken there to drink and the canteens refilled. We had plenty of beef, elk, and mule deer jerky, so we wouldn’t starve. We didn’t have anything but the bare necessities, but that was what we were used to.
We didn’t know what their plans were, but we couldn’t worry about that. They didn’t have many options. They’d have to come and get us, and if they didn’t, then we’d go and get them. We could wait. The longer we kept them busy here, the farther down the trail those women would get.
We took turns sleeping throughout the afternoon, with Pedro getting the bulk of the rest time. He had lost blood, and he would be the one who would hold the fort, so to speak, through the night. Baca and I were going down to low ground when darkness fell, while Pedro guarded the camp. That way we would have a place to come to if we could in time of need.
We had it arranged to leave a small fire burning. They had a good notion where we were, so let ‘em come. Pedro was to move on higher up about thirty or forty yards. That way he could keep watch over the camp and pick off anyone who wasn’t a good friend of his.
Pedro wasn’t happy about not going down below, but he knew that he was in no shape for it. This was going to be a long hard night.
Chapter 21
At sundown Baca and I moved down the slope, so we’d be barely in the wooded area. It stood to reason; since they had lost a number of men that they wouldn’t be able to make the widely spread out attack… they were just too thinned out. They would most likely try a two pronged attack on the campfire with a width of maybe a hundred and fifty yards out from center. I doubted that any of them would want to attack the camp head on.
Logic would tell them that we were all three forted up at the fire. That fire gave them a target. The only problem was, that target was a dummy, and there wasn’t any bull’s eye. Baca went left of center and I went right. Each of us went out about a hundred yards… and we waited.
Calculating the movement of the moon and stars, I figured we’d been waiting for at least two hours when they came out of the darkness. At first it was just a hint of movement that was barely visib
le by the pale light of the moon. That hint of movement soon became a figure on the move. It was going from bush to bush trying to mask its bulk behind some scrawny juniper.
I didn’t know what was going on to the left, or if Baca saw any figure or figures. He was on his own down there, just as I was on my own at this end. I had a notion that if anything was moving, he would know about it.
Then I saw a second movement and a third. They were moving in, but they were still too far out for any kind of effective shot at this distance in this light. Spread out like they were, I’d have a hard time getting more than one hit before the others took to the ground. But one would slow them up to the point that I’d have a better chance picking up any more movement.
Try as I might, I couldn’t see a fourth or fifth figure, so I’d just have to take it that three was the magic number and live or die with that. The farthest to my right was the one I wanted first. He would have the best chance of getting up the slope and behind me. So I moved with a good deal of caution to my right. I was hoping to get as close as possible for a good shot and still not get too far from the other two.
Looking back from time to time I was able to keep all three in sight. When I had moved as far right as I possibly could, I stopped and waited for my shot. He came up from behind a waist high shrub at about fifty yards in the moonlight. I was ready and let it fly.
He came up to his full extension and then up on his toes. He stood there like a dancer for what seemed like a minute, and then he went down like a tree… all stretched out and on his toes. When he hit the ground he seemed to bounce a little. That little bounce was his last movement.
While the dust was still rising from his landing, I was turning and looking for any movement from the other two. They were tree trunk still. I knew where they went down, so I just moved back to the next tree and sent a couple of chunks of lead into their respective bushes. I didn’t expect to hit anything, but I wanted to get them scrambling for better cover.
The gent, farthest to my left, didn’t need any more prodding. He was up and gone in the same direction he had come from. But the one nearest to me didn’t move, so I dusted three shots around the base of that bush. That fella either had nerves of steel, dead… or he wasn’t there.
If he wasn’t there, I could only think of one place he would be, and I didn’t much like that possibility. If in the flurry of gunfire and bouncing bodies, I could have missed seeing one of them run into the trees. If I had, then I was in a bit of a spot.
The moccasin was now on the other foot. Instead of me being hidden and knowing where they were, it was the other way around. He had me staked out and I had no idea where he might be. There was only one thing to do… nothing.
I leaned my back against one of those big old pines and slid down to the ground. We’d just have to see who could wait the best. In the meantime, I might as well make myself comfortable. While I was getting in position for a long wait, I fed eight more cartridges into my rifle. I could hear rifle fire down in Anjel Baca’s area. I wished him luck.
One might think that a man on the ground would be at a disadvantage in a firefight, but the way I looked at it, was that fella out there wouldn’t be looking for me on the ground. He’d be looking for something between four and six feet above the ground.
I unslung my back up Winchester and leaned it against the tree, then I set the other one next to it. Taking my sixgun from its holster, I pulled back the hammer. This was going to be an up close and anything but a friendly meeting. I had another pistol in my belt, if needed. It was one of those times when a fella couldn’t have too many weapons… I took my hat off and waited. I didn’t want anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.
The worst part of being down on the ground was you weren’t mobile. A man just couldn’t move around well from a sitting position. So I let my senses take control and make up for not being able to move. Moving around was the last thing I had in mind at that point. Moving, no matter how good an Injun you may think you are, is still gonna make some noise.
So I sat, and I waited. I didn’t have to wait too long because that boy started moving almost right away. I’ll give him credit for being a good Injun, but he was no ghost, and ghostlike is what you need to be if you want to stay alive. I never heard a twig snap or the sound of metal on metal. But I heard a pine cone crunch, and I heard coarse material brushing against itself. It was probably denim, those sail cloth pants that were getting real popular.
He was maybe twenty five or thirty feet back from the tree I was leaning against…. and he was moving my way. I didn’t think he’d listen to me if I told him to go back to the ranch and leave me alone, so I didn’t say anything. I just waited. Like I’d said before, I hate waiting, but I’m pretty good at it.
I closed my eyes and let my ears follow his movements. I seemed to hear better if my eyes weren’t confusing my mind and distracting me. I could pick out each step he took. Pine needles are soft, but when you have needles piled up for years, they kill out all every else under that tree. That means bare ground here and there and pebbles. He got closer and closer, until he was within a few feet of my tree.
I sat, unmoving. My only question was which side of the tree would he come around. That was when I was most thankful that for removing my hat. I had my eyes open again trying to see his bulk coming around the tree. My head was turning left to right, and it wouldn’t have taken too much contact between the hat and the tree to give me away. The problem I was faced with was that he was so close now, I couldn’t tell which side he was coming around…. He was very very close.
I closed my eyes again, hoping to get greater concentration on the sound. Then it reached me, but it wasn’t the crunch of a pine cone, it was the smell of whiskey. I hadn’t been near any liquor, since I bandaged Pedro’s wound yesterday. It was coming around the right side. I looked up in that direction and I could see the bulk of a figure coming into view.
The shadowed figure moved out farther with a careful step. He was almost beside me, and he was looking ahead. There was a rifle in his hands, at the ready, and his head was thrust forward as if he were straining to see.
It was too cold blooded a shot for me to take so I said, “Down here.” He jerked, and I pulled the trigger. His head kicked back, and his feet left the ground as that heavy .44 slug tore in under his chin, through his brain, and out by way of the top of his skull. I didn’t need to check to see if he was still alive…. He wasn’t.
I picked up his rifle and smashed it against a rock, hoping to destroy it. But I couldn’t see well enough to be sure. Then I gathered up my hat and rifles and listened. The gunfire in Baca’s area had stopped. I needed to get back to Pedro’s position. If Baca had failed, they’d be coming to the fire. I needed to be there in time to warm things up for them.
I moved with a good deal of caution. The fire had gotten low and was only about a third as bright as it had been. Staying back, out of the light, I circled the area, looking for anything that didn’t belong. When I got to the point closest to where Pedro was positioned, I chirped. He replied with two chirps.
I stepped out into the light, and Baca stood up from behind Pedro’s makeshift fortress. He was helping Pedro to his feet, and then they both came down to the fire. Baca told me that there had been four coming in from his position. He had dropped one and had a possible wounded one, but his friend had helped him off the field. The fourth had decided he didn’t want to be there by himself and took off.
When they had reached the fire, Baca asked, “You have a plan, amigo? No?”
“No, my friend,” I told him, “I guess the only thing I can think of is to get on those horses, load our rifles and go get ‘em.”
“Si, again, we are having the same plan.”
I asked Pedro if he wanted to stay in camp, but he would have none of that. He would go, even if we had tie him to his horse. So we checked our weapons, loaded everything as full as we could get it, and made a pot of coffee. We didn’t know how many were at the ra
nch, It could be as few as four or as many as seven or eight. We sort of figured that most of the night time raiders were of the bounty hunting bunch… the new men. That meant that there could be five left of the old bunch.
After we had our coffee and everything was in as good a shape as it was gonna be, we got Pedro in the saddle without having to tie him there, and we rode out. We rode single file down the hill through the trees and brush. There was still a bit of moonlight left, so we could see a little.
The only noise we heard was the soft clop of our horses hooves as they took us toward who knew what. There was no jangle of loose metal or chains. Baca and Pedro had even removed their spurs and put them in their saddle bags. Those two had been over the mountain a time or two… I was proud to ride with them.
We hadn’t been the aggressors since we had turned those women loose, so it was a good bet that they wouldn’t be expecting any kind of attack from us. But we had whittled their forces down to the point we could hurt ‘em with a raid of our own. There was a single lamp burning somewhere in the house. Other than that, the place was dark as a grave.
“What is your plan, amigo.” Anjel asked.
“Wellsir, what I been thinking was to pull off an Injun raid… We could circle the house and the bunkhouse… spaced out and shooting like mad men. After a couple of trips around the house, one of us drops off and get in position in the rear…maybe behind the bunkhouse and make it hot for anyone tryin’ to get out the back door.”
“Meanwhile the ones out front could ride back and forth shooting that place to kindlin’ wood… and after they started shootin’ back, we could go to the ground and take some real aimin’.”
“We should ride together, always, compadre… we could do each other’s thinking. Pedro should be the man in back, where there is not so much moving around.”
We moved on up and got into a line. It was worked out for the second and third man to be separated by a three count of the man ahead of him. We would start out in close to the house and get farther away with each circle. The ones in the house would be shooting into the dark, and distance would be hard to judge. In fact it would be almost impossible to tell a hundred yards from fifty yards or a hundred and fifty.
