by Lou Bradshaw
Baca took off first with a wild yell in Spanish and put two pistol shots into the area of the front door. On the count of three, I kicked my horse into action with an old mountain yodel… it was all I could think of. I had my hand gun making its own yodel. Pedro came right behind me with something that sounded like a grizzly mating with a puma. We shot into every side of the house. When the pistols were empty, we pulled out rifles and continued to play the game.
Return fire was coming from the front of the house, but with no light, they were firing at flashes from moving rifles, at an unknown distance. After the third trip around, there were only two of us shooting from the front. Baca and I rode back and forth a half dozen times, crisscrossing each other to add to the confusion.
When we were a good hundred and fifty yards out, we took to the ground. Leaving the horses ground hitched and in relative safety we spread out, with me going right and him going left. Taking a few shots from that distance, we set a point of range in their minds. Crouching low, we went to our new positions.
Neither of us shot until we were within a hundred yards, then we peppered the front of the house from constantly moving positions. We’d take a couple of shots and move either right or left… short or long. We did whatever it took to keep them off balance. From where I was, I could see gun flashes coming from Pedro’s position. So he was still in the fight.
After a spell, the firing slowed down on both sides. They were waiting for daylight, so they could see a little better what to shoot at. I didn’t want to give them that kind of opportunity. So I eased on over closer to Baca and told him what my plan was… part of it anyway. Basically I wanted him to hold his fire until I gave him a sign… he’d know it when he saw it.
Moving to my right, I took a roundabout route working my way toward the house. I came to it from the right rear corner. I then worked my way to the front of the house. The front porch was enclosed by a rail. Putting my right hand on the rail, I vaulted over it and landed softly on the porch. Luckily for me there wasn’t anyone on that porch. But I reckon that wouldn’t be a healthy place to be with us pouring lead into it the way we had.
Easing my way down to the first of two windows, I was able to see movement in the room. That one dim lamp still burned in a room toward the rear… probably the kitchen. The first window was higher and smaller than the other one. So I ducked under it and crossed in front of the door to reach the other window. Once there, I stood flattened against the outer wall and cautiously peeked in. I could see someone… it was my old pal Baites. He was kneeling at the other side of the window looking out.
“Baites.” I whispered. His head came up and looked all around. Then he looked at me and started to bring his rifle up. That’s when I shot him. Jacking another shell into the chamber I let fly at something that moved. I’ll never know if I hit anything or not because I was off the porch and around the corner by the time the echo died.
There was a lot of commotion going on inside the house, but I couldn’t worry about that right then. When I reached the right rear corner of the building, I stopped and gave a chirp. The last thing I wanted was to run back toward the bunkhouse, without letting Pedro know I was coming. I got his two chirp reply and scooted across the fifty feet of no man’s land to the bunkhouse.
When I was beside Pedro, I looked up at the back door and by the dim light from that lantern I could see an arm and a hat lying just outside the door. With a little squinting, I could just barely make out the shape of a body that was attached to the arm. I presumed that was Pedro’s kill.
Next, I slipped back around the front of the bunkhouse and through the door. Once inside I struck a match so I could see what I was looking for. It only took a few seconds and I was back out the door and next to Pedro again.
I had with me a coal oil lamp, and I’d already taken the chimney off. I said to Pedro, “I’m going to light this and smash it against the blind wall over there. That way it will be burnin’ good and hot before they know about it…. they’re gonna come boilin’ outa there, so let her rip on that back door.”
I unslung my spare rifle and left it with him, and I made sure the one in my hand was full. He’d need to keep up some pretty heavy fire, and there wouldn’t be much time to reload. The shooting from the front of the house had died down again after the flurry of a few minutes ago.
Leaving Pedro at the bunkhouse corner, I slid off to my left until I was no more than thirty feet from the middle of that windowless wall. I turned up the wick and stuck a lit match to it. There was a slight sputter, and then it took hold giving off thick black smoke. I pulled back my arm and flung that lamp as hard as I could at the wall.
It hit the wall and shattered, spilling coal oil all down the side of the building, which was followed by flames. As that lamp hit, Pedro put a couple of shots into the back door. That Pedro was a pretty clever boy, those shots would mask the sound of breaking glass.
I stood and watched for about a half minute while those flames took hold on those old dry lapboards. Then I was gone. I headed to the front of the house figuring they’d be wanting to get the hell out of there in a few minutes. Within a few minutes that whole wall was ablaze and it was working its way up to the roof.
Smoke was rolling out of the busted windows, and I could hear a lot of commotion inside the house. I could hear coughing and shouting, then I heard a shot and then another from the rear. Pedro had them bottled up in the back and we had them covered in the front. The only way they were going to get out of that hell was through the front door with their hands empty.
Suddenly a man came charging out of the inferno with his arms waving in the air, and then another and two more came out. All of them went down on hand and knees coughing, choking, and throwing up. They were doing everything humanly possible to get a little air in their lungs.
“Where’s Daveys?” I shouted to one of them. He couldn’t speak, but he stretched his arm out and pointed at the burning house. I looked up, just in time to see a large man framed in the doorway, with smoke billowing all around him. It was mostly just a shadow back lit by the flames. I could see his frock coat billowing in the waves of heat. I could also see the rifle in his hands, and it was aimed in my direction.
Diving to my right and forward, I hit the ground and rolled. I had heard the crack and knew he’d missed, as the ounce of lead went on its way out over open ground and beyond. One of the outlaws raised up to take a deep breath and took a bullet in the spine. He twitched and fell flat on his face just a few inches from the hand that was supporting my weight. He never moved again.
When he came up, we had been face to face for a split second. I watched his eyes grow wide with disbelief. His face looked like an insane person who doesn’t know where he is or what’s happening to him. Then he fell, and I was looking at Daveys in the doorway. If that fella hadn’t taken that bullet, there’s no doubt that I would have… I went back to the ground real quick.
Baca was coming toward the house from his position, and he opened up on the doorway. I saw Daveys grab his left knee and spin back into the smoke and flames. Between Anjel and myself, we were able to get the three living outlaws out of the light from the fire to relative safety.
Watching that fire eat up that house, I considered mending my ways. If that was what hell was like, I wasn’t sure I wanted any part of it, even though that’s where most of my old fur trapper friends would be.
Just when we were sure that Daveys had gone from that earthly hell to the spiritual hell, he came charging out of that inferno all ablaze. His coat tails were flying wings of flames. His whole upper body was a mass of flames. Hands were flailing at his beard and hair, which were flaring up like cedar branches tossed on a cook fire. It was a sight that I never wanted to see in the first place, and I pray never to see it again.
Almost sick to my stomach from what I was seeing, I did the only thing I could think of. I put a bullet where his face should have been and followed it up with two more in his chest. I would have emptied my
rifle in him, but he had already fallen.
Chapter 22
After a while, the roof collapsed, the walls came down, and what had once been somebody’s home was just a pile of smoldering red hot coals. It was still too hot to go near, so we waited.
The sun was starting to peek around and over the mountains to the east. I got up from sitting in the grass and said I was going to go round up some horses for those fellas to ride out of here.
The women had taken the sorrel horse I’d been using, but I had taken one from the corral that night. I don’t know whose horse it was but he was mine for the time being. We’d work all that out later. I rode out to that pasture we’d seen earlier, and sure enough, there they were. There looked to be about twenty or so milling around grazing, as horse critters are apt to do when left to their own devices.
I just sort of moved them around and headed them for the burnt out barn. My plan was to take the ones we needed and turn the others loose. They could stay in this cup for years and never be bothered. I didn’t see any stallions in that bunch, but that didn’t mean a wild one couldn’t get the message and move in.
The sky was bright enough by that time; I could see the differences in the horses. The first one I spotted was my blue roan. When I got them to the corral Baca was there manning the gate. As far as the horses knew, it was still intact. The rubble of the barn blocked their way, and the few charred posts were still solid enough. The first thing I did was switch my saddle to that roan.
When we were ready to move out, we’d throw them boys on a horse and tow them along to the nearest jail, which would probably be Creede. We walked back to the shed where Pedro had locked the three prisoners. He was outside the door with a cook fire going and coffee boiling.
I went into the shed, thinking to have a talk with those boys. The only one of the three I recognized, was the fella I had conked on the head and taken his horse back at my place. Squatting down on my haunches, I looked them over real good.
“Seems to me, you fellas are in a bit of a jam.” Pointing at one of them I asked, “What’s your stake in this business?”
He looked at me like I was talking Cherokee and mumbled, “Whut?”
So I drew the hammer back on my colt and stuck the muzzle in his ear and told him, “Let me clean out that ear for you…I asked what your job was.”
He was nervous and it showed, but after a little pressure on his ear he started to speak, “No offense, but… but I was offered a thousand dollars to kill you…. That’s a lot of money, Mister.”
I swung my gun to the second man and asked the same question, but I didn’t have to poke it in his ear, he was ready to talk. “I got the same offer from Frank Daveys. Those others was worth five hundred each.”
I told them, “Yeah… that’s a lot of money… I’d be tempted to shoot myself for a thousand dollars. I’m real sorry you boys ain’t even gonna have enough to buy good horses to get out of the country.”
Swinging my pistol to the third man, he volunteered, “Same here, I was just a paid gun.”
“Do I look stupid to you, Kagle?” I asked, “Who do you think it was that conked you on the head and took your clothes and horse back at the cave? You were up to your filthy neck in the Daveys business…. And that neck is gonna get stretched some.”
I left them there to ponder their poor choices and their futures. Outside Pedro had coffee and bacon ready, so we took the time to contemplate what had all happened. Baca and Pedro were both covered with dirt and soot. Baca’s nice clothes looked like he’d gone through some pretty rough times. I could only imagine what I looked like.
“Cain,” Baca suddenly turned as said, “I think I have earned my money for this job, but more important, my dear cousin has her honor returned and her husband’s death has been avenged.”
I smiled and nodded. I’d forgotten what his purpose for being here was.
“And I would be the first to speak for you… after a suitable time of course.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Anjel?”
“My dear cousin… the Senora Angelina Maria Rosalita Ramos… the widow of Hernando Ramos…. She had many fine things to say about you. I have seen for myself that you are mucho hombre… but she needs time to heal.”
“You’re plum loco, Baca, plum touched in the head.” He just laughed.
A short time later, Pedro came running up to us pointing toward the main entrance. Someone was coming. We grabbed our weapons and took defensive positions. Baca dug his field glasses out of his saddle bag and put them to his eyes. “It looks like six or seven men… maybe some late arrivals… will I ever get to spend my money? … Worse maybe, one is wearing a badge…. Perhaps Pedro and I will leave the way we came.”
Pedro already had his horse ready and was holding Baca’s.
“Let me see those glasses for a moment.” I said, and he handed them to me. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with this lawman…. You just stay close and follow my lead… don’t start sayin’ stuff in Spanish ‘cause he speaks better Mex than you do.”
They calmed down and trusted my advice, so we walked out a ways to meet US Marshal Blue, Tater, a posse of Mexican vaqueros, and a dude. As they pulled up Ben said, “Cain, I got word that you had a passel of renegades treed up here in these mountains…. Marshal Stewart suggested that I come up here and make sure there were some left for the hangin’.”
“Well, your timin’ is pretty close, Blue. We was just about to run out of bad guys. We got three of ‘em locked in a shed. If you’d been a day later we’d a probably cooked ‘em and et ‘em.”
“Who’s your friends, Shad?”
“Well, this little fella here is Mister Pedro Jones.” There were a few chuckles among the vaqueros. “And this big fella in the ruined fancy duds is Mister An-hel Smith.” There was a good deal of laughter from the vaqueros.”
“Seems like I’ve got a message for Mister Smith… A very good friend from Santa Fe asked me to check on how well you were earning your pay… whatever that’s all about.”
“You can tell your friend that his pesos are being well spent.” Baca swept his sombrero from his head and bowed low.
Ben and his posse dismounted and we told him what had gone on here over the last three or four days and nights. Baca went with some of the vaqueros to visit the prisoners and show them some hospitality and respect.
“Antonio told us what was going on up here and I got a message from Santa Fe, asking me to look into it. I was closer than the marshal in Denver.” Ben told me. “Antonio took us to your place and found Senora Ramos, her father and brother there. She and her father went home, but her brother… the tall thin fella over there came with us.”
“Did you run across four senoritas on the trail?” I asked.
“Sure did.” He said. “Antonio is taking them to Creede with a letter from me, along with that ugly flea nest dog of yours. We should catch up with them on the trail.”
“That’s good, all we were able to do was get ‘em loose and on their way without so much as a via con dios. We were raisin’ some hell to cover their escape… They’d all had a hard time of it.”
He shook his head and said, “When Patty Anne heard of it, she handed me my gun and my badge and told me, ‘Ben Blue, you go up there and stand with Shadrac Cain, and get them out of there.” I had to smile, even though Miz Patty Anne had used that hated name.
Tate, in the meantime had been chewing the ear off that dude in the city clothes, and presently he brought him over. “Cain,” he said, “this here is Mr. Clyde Bertram… he’s a newspaper man, and he wanted to come along so he could get a big story.”
I shook both their hands and told Bertram that I was proud to meet him, but there wasn’t much to tell him… just a bunch of dead outlaws and a burnt up ranch. He laughed and said, “It’s a long way to civilization… we’ll see.”
Within an hour we were loaded, mounted, and out of the valley. On the trail, Ben told me that the vaqueros came from the
Mexican ranches around Taos. “I had so many that I could only take those with this kind of experience.” He said.
Every chance he had, Bertram was asking me questions. I told him what I could, but I didn’t really know how to spin a yarn. I finally turned him over to Baca. That hombre knew how to make words come alive.
The second night on the trail, I was unrolling my bedroll and that little carved cougar fell out. It rolled a few feet and stopped at Bertram’s feet. He picked it up and gave it a look then he turned it over and said, “Oh, you’ve got one of those big Cs, I’ll give you twenty dollars for it.”
“Why on earth would you pay that much for a little piece of carved up cottonwood?” I asked.
“Mister Cain, these carvings are showing up all over the west… no one knows where they come from, but they are in big demand in the east. I’ve bought several from saloon girls and store keepers from Denver to Cheyenne… I’ll give you twenty five, if you can trust me for the five.”
I looked at Ben and he looked as confused as I was. “Well, sir,” I said, “they’re not big C or G or any other letter. That C stands for Cain, and I been whittlin’ that stuff since I was a pup. I must have give a passel of ‘em away to saloon gals and bartenders, from here to yonder. It’s just something I do.
He thought for a minute and said, “Mister Cain, I’d like to represent you as your agent. I can send these to the east and you could become a man of means, if not a wealthy man. Of course I would take a percentage of the gross, but you’ll be treated fairly.
I looked at Ben and he said, “Oh, he won’t cheat you, Shad. He don’t want you on his back trail, and besides that, he’d have the whole US Marshal’s Service watching his every move.”
