Nazareth

by Tony Masero

  ‘I have a partner, Mister Boone. He’s a good hard worker and had some experience in the medical profession that might be useful.’

  Boone raised bushy eyebrows, ‘Indeed. He could not come with you today?’

  ‘I fear not, his other employ keeps him busy.’

  Boone shrugged indifferently, ‘We have space for one more and medical aid will be handy, will you make mark for him?’

  ‘I shall and thank you,’ Billy Lee leaned forward and signed his name and for Doctor Jack.

  ‘Doctor Jack?’ said Boone doubtfully after reading the names Billy Lee had written. ‘What manner of name is that? He’s not some kind of ex-slave is he?’

  ‘No sir, not at all he just likes to make his profession well known.’

  ‘Well lets hope he’s up to it, any problems and the wagon master will whip his backside out of there, or yours too if it comes to it, of that you can be sure. You leave on the morrow, be here before dawn, Mister LaBone.’

  The wagon master was a square set, burly, no nonsense kind of man who carried a long bullwhip and was not above cracking it out to make a point. His name was Frisco Baines and he greeted Billy Lee and Doctor Jack with obvious doubts about their abilities.

  ‘You boys know your way around a mule wagon?’ he asked them bluntly when they arrived at the Boone Brother’s yard next morning before dawn.

  ‘We’ll figure it out,’ Billy Lee answered boldly.

  ‘Look here,’ said Frisco, indicating the busy activity in the lamp-lit yard with the end of his whip. ‘Each of these wagons carries seven thousand pounds of cargo with ten mules to pull. Your average mule is a compliant animal, not given to friskiness like a regular pony. Can be stubborn its true, but mostly he’s sure footed and a solid worker, you care for him and he’ll do a good job. Any problems you see the caporal, Joe Fish, he’s the one looks after the animals.’

  ‘Got it,’ said Billy Lee.

  ‘Your friend here,’ asked Frisco. ‘He some kind of Indian?’

  ‘He’s the doctor I told Mr. Boone about.’

  Frisco wrinkled his lip wryly, ‘Well, we got what we call an Ambulance but that’s more rightly used for the night guard to sleep in during the day. No doubt someone will need doctoring though, there’s twelve wagons in this train and twenty-four men to work them. Some of them will need medical attention before we’re done I’ve no doubt, can you handle that, Indian?’

  ‘My name is Doctor Jack and I’ve no doubt I can handle that.’

  ‘Oho! An educated Indian, huh?’ mocked Frisco. ‘Well, let’s hope you can do what you say, bucko, or I’ll strip your hide with this here whip.’

  With that he snaked out the tight line of the black bullwhip and snapped a vicious crack like a pistol shot.

  ‘Impressive,’ observed Doctor Jack calmly.

  ‘I’ll put you two dogies towards the rear of the column until we see what you can do. You get to drive the Ambulance seeing as your so medically minded,’ said Frisco. ‘Go get yourself acquainted with your team and be ready, we leave at first light.’

  They arrived at the wagon to find the caporal, busily harnessing the chain traces up to the eveners and swingletrees allowing him to hitch up the mules in tandem.

  ‘Howdy boys,’ he said, ducking out from under a mule’s neck and giving a wink in their direction. He was a skinny, bow-legged man with a long neck and wearing a beaten up straw sombrero. ‘Name’s Joe Fish.’

  Billy Lee introduced himself and held out his hand and the two shook.

  ‘You fellas carry any weapons?’ Joe asked.

  Billy Lee shook his head.

  ‘Well then, you can have a rifle in the wagon well but you’ll have to sign for that. No pistols to spare just now but maybe we’ll pick up something along the way.’

  Billy Lee frowned dubiously, ‘You can’t be expecting trouble over an iron bridge?’

  ‘It ain’t the load they go for,’ Joe said, slapping the rump of the nearest mule. ‘It’s these fine beasts; they come high on the agenda for road agents. Worth good money, you see?’

  ‘That a fact?’

  ‘We got a hundred and fifty mules here all together with the spare animals I’ll be bringing along. That’s around fifteen thousand dollars give or take, pretty nice pickings for any hopeful gang of rustlers, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Bless me,’ breathed Billy Lee. ‘I would have thought it was the contents of a wagon train that would have been their goal.’

  ‘Not so, mister, so you stay alert, you hear?’

  They averaged twenty miles a day of lumbering, bumping and vibrating over barely visible tracks. The big iron-tired wheels juddered and squealed with the tremendous weight of the bridge sections strapped aboard the wagons. It was a rough journey and tiring to be bumped about for hour after hour under the hot sun.

  Billy Lee handled the reins on the Ambulance and was getting hoarse with hollering at the mules, it needed Doctor Jack’s input and he became quite adept at flicking at the mules with the long handled whip in order to keep them plodding on remorselessly and keeping up with the rest of the train.

  On the third day out they had their first mishap.

  The spokes on one wheel gave way on a wagon half way down the line and the three and a half ton wagonload lurched as the five-foot high wheel collapsed.

  Shouts and whistles echoed down the line of the train and a general halt was called as the wagon master took a look.

  ‘Okay, boys,’ Frisco called. ‘All hands here, we need to lift this beggar and put on a spare wheel. So gather round and we’ll lever her up.’

  All the men jumped to it and long timbers were brought up and rested under the wagon bed whilst the spare wheel was brought alongside.

  ‘Look here,’ Frisco told them. ‘The plan is that you fellows heave her up and we prop some supports underneath, then me and the caporal will drag off the busted wheel and replace it with this new one slipped up onto the axle. Keep ready with those levers in case she moves. Make sure none of you sonsabitches drop the bastard, you hear me?’

  Billy Lee and Doctor Jack both played their part and heaved alongside the others as the creaking wagon shifted slowly and gradually left the ground. More timbers were brought in and used to block up the tilting wagon. It was backbreaking work and Billy Lee felt every muscle in his body straining as they struggled to raise the heavy load.

  Sweat dripped under the hot sun as the creaking wagon swayed up to enough of an angle to replace the wheel. As Frisco pulled off the cracked hub he breathed a curse, ‘Goddamn! Will you look at this? Scraped raw as a dried bone, no wonder the damn thing broke. Joe Fish this is down to you, where’s the axle grease on this wagon.’

  They both looked at the swinging grease bucket hanging underneath and it was obvious the container was still half full.

  Joe was nonplussed, ‘This can’t be right, Frisco. I know I did it proper before we left, I greased every wheel in the train.’ He reached over and rubbed a hand through the thin slime remaining on the axle head, feeling it through finger and thumb. ‘This has been sanded,’ he said. ‘Somebody’s dumped sand in her.’

  Frisco looked around suspiciously, ‘Who the hell….’ He began, then his eyes widened as he caught movement coming up the road behind them. ‘Aw, hell! Look here, we got someone coming and I don’t like the look of them.’

  All the men looked around and as they saw the band of riders fast approaching them along the trail they all eased their hold on the levering beams as the ominous looking band drew near. The five approaching riders were bunched and moving with intent, even amongst the dust cloud they raised it was evident that their guns were drawn.

  ‘Get your weapons!’ hollered Frisco. ‘They timed this damned right, I guess we know now who it was sabotaged the wheel.’

  The broken wagon was forgotten as the unarmed drivers dropped the levers and raced off to do his bidding. As they did so, the wagon tilted and the props below moved at an angle and then gave way suddenly droppin
g the laden wagon. Everyone was startled by the piercing scream that came from behind as the wagon lurched back over.

  Billy Lee looked around to see Joe Fish hollering and clutching at his leg where the wheel and wagon had come down on his foot.

  ‘Aw! Hell!’ Billy Lee cursed, torn between getting his rifle and helping the trapped caporal.

  ‘Go!’ said Doctor Jack. ‘I will see to the white man.’

  Billy Lee nodded and raced off as the oncoming gang started up with the shooting, they were shouting and screaming fearsome yells as they charged in, separating their line and preparing to ride down each side of the train banging away with their pistols.

  Billy Lee made it to the Ambulance and jumped up into the driving well, snatching up the Winchester as he did so. The oncoming riders were close and through the canvas opening at back of the covered wagon, Billy Lee saw a front line rider, a man wearing a wide-brimmed sombrero, almost upon him. Without hesitation, Billy Lee leaned out the side of the wagon and swinging back the Winchester like a bat, he smacked the rider with the full force of the flat side of the butt end. The combine trajectory of Billy Lee’s swing and the racing pony meant the meeting with the hard wooden stock was a lethal combination.

  There was an almighty smack and the rider spun back, his neck broken as the head wobbled loosely on his shoulders. The rustler threw up his arms and spun over the pony’s rump to tumble into the dust behind, his Mexican sombrero cartwheeling away, flying into the air like a thrown tin dish.

  Billy Lee spun the Winchester over using the lever grip to lock it into his hands, he completed the action by cranking a shell into the chamber and as the last rider charged past he blasted him from the saddle with a single shot.

  Billy Lee spun around to see one of their men being trampled under the hoofs of a charging raider, the remaining members of the gang raced on past the head of the column. Those of the train that had reached their hardware were firing off after them as fast as they could reload and the air was full of gun smoke and flying lead.

  Billy Lee snap-aimed and fired, then fired again. One of the raider’s horses skittered as it received a bullet in the belly that effectively gutted the creature, it ran on a few steps and then the legs gave out and both pony and man tumbled to the ground.

  The two survivors did not stop. Deciding escape was a better bet they fled, leaving behind two dead and a lone gang member rolling in the dust.

  ‘Get him!’ roared Frisco, pointing at the fallen man. ‘Get that sonofabitch!’

  Covered by a grim looking collection of rifle bearing muleskinners the man soon gave up and dropping his weapon he raised both hands in the air.

  Billy Lee jumped down from the Ambulance and ran over to the fallen man. Jabbing the rifle barrel into his midriff, Billy Lee asked him, ‘Who the hell are you men? What d’you want with us?’

  The man looked up at him, aggression and resentment evident on his face. He was young, no more than nineteen years and he held a bravado expression of arrogance.

  ‘Go to hell, you sorry looking muleskinner!’ he spat.

  Billy Lee spun the Winchester and clipped him a solid crack on the jaw, ‘Don’t you sass me, boy. I’d as soon put one in you as not.’

  ‘You got good hold of this one, Billy Lee?’ asked one of the gathered group of drivers.

  ‘Sure, see to the others.’

  Frisco was calling for help with the trapped Joe Fish and others were heading back to see if they could do anything for the trampled driver.

  Billy Lee leveled the Winchester between the raider’s eyebrows. He clicked back the hammer with his thumb, ‘You want to talk now?’

  ‘All right, all right,’ said the boy, a wry expression twisting his bleeding lips. ‘Ease off. We come for your mules, we’re the Bayliss Boys and I reckon you set about us good and proper.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Ted Early, they call me The Timely Kid, on account of my name, see? Say, mister, can you take care of my horse?’

  For the first time, Billy Lee noticed the squealing pony writhing nearby with its entrails spread on the ground, ‘It’s your own neck you should be thinking about, Kid.’

  ‘That ain’t right, she’s been a good pony and I don’t like to see her like that.’

  Barely moving, Billy Lee twitched the rifle up and shot the horse clean through the head, stilling it and putting it out of its agony instantly.

  ‘Aw, shoot!’ groaned Early, obviously sorry for the loss of his pony.

  ‘Get up,’ said Billy Lee. ‘Try anything and I promise you’ll be as dead as that animal there.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Early getting to his feet and keeping his hands raised high. ‘I can see you’re a gunman of true aim, I ain’t about to try anything.’

  Billy Lee glanced around to see the men grouped around the fallen driver shaking their heads in dismay and another band still struggling to release the howling Joe Fish.

  ‘Looks like you put two of ours out of commission,’ he observed.

  ‘Well, you nailed two of us as well so we’re on equal standing here,’ said Early, noticing the fallen men at the rear of the column he added. ‘Appears you put down Dale Bayliss and San Pedro the Mexican.’

  ‘Bayliss your leader?’ Billy Lee asked.

  ‘I reckon,’ shrugged Early. ‘Was it you put them away?’

  ‘It was.’

  ‘Man!’ said the youngster, obviously impressed. ‘That’s some mean work.’

  ‘Get over there,’ grunted Billy Lee, pushing him towards the wagon train.

  As Early was lashed by rope to a wheel one of the driver’s passed over the rolled ammunition belts and holstered pistols of the two dead bandits, ‘Here, Billy Lee you and the Indian better hold on to these as you ain’t carrying.’

  Billy Lee thanked him and strapped on one of the belts as he went over to the group gathered around Joe Fish.

  The caporal was laid on the ground and Doctor Jack was kneeling over his ruined foot, cutting away the boot with a knife.

  ‘Hot damn!’ snarled Frisco. ‘Poor Joe ain’t going to be much use from now on. We’re down two drivers but have to say, you did fine there, Billy Lee. I seen you put those three men down.’

  Billy Lee nodded, ‘How is he, Doctor Jack?’ he asked.

  ‘His foot is crushed, the bones are all broken. I do not know if I can save it.’

  ‘Hell, no,’ wailed the caporal. ‘You ain’t going to cut her off, are you?’

  ‘Better that than your whole damned leg,’ advised Frisco roughly. ‘You get gangrene and that’s what’ll happen. You just do what the doctor tells you, Joe.’

  ‘What you want to do with this guy we caught?’ asked Billy Lee.

  ‘First things first,’ Frisco answered. ‘We’ll get Joe seen to, bury the dead then finish putting the new wheel on the wagon and get around to that asshole all in good time.’

  ‘You’re the boss.’

  Frisco rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, ‘You think these boys will come back and try again?’

  ‘If you had five men and you lost three including your leader, would you?’

  Frisco shook his head, ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Besides, they don’t have enough hands left to handle the mules even if they did get away with them.’

  Frisco nodded agreement, ‘Okay, let’s get to it then.’

  Chapter Eight

  It was no more than a small farming town loan and savings bank.

  The only way it made its money was the reservoir water supply kept above the town that was rented out to the local farmers on a monthly basis and supplied through a system of sluice gates. Which meant there was some small amount of incoming cash from the few market gardens that grew fruit and vegetables in the locality.

  The reservoir stood amongst a low range above the town that was situated on the edge of an old broad riverbed cut into irrigation fed parcels of land. And that’s how it earned the name Reservoir Flats.

  An entrepr
eneur named Handy Balls had come up with the idea of damming the water and then laying supply pipes to feed the rich soil found in the now dry riverbed and the town had subsequently grown up around this enterprise. The town itself was made up of a single street bordered by frame houses and a few supply stores. There were a couple of warehouses and a freight and stable yard at one end but little else of note apart from the Balls Bank.

  Mister Balls himself had passed away from the consumption some years previous, way before he had time to fully enjoy the fruits of his vision and the bank now rested in the hands of his son, Handy Balls Junior.

  All of this they were told by Freddy who had reconnoitered the place and come back with the news that it was a worthwhile project although Minnie, for the life of her, could not see how a pokey little place fed by fringe farming could be worth the risk.

  She went along with it though and watched the men psych themselves up with the prospect of a bundle of cash and all the excitement of the raid. Jethro told her she was to hold the getaway horses whilst the rest of them went inside and carried out the robbery. This was normally a task seconded to Freddie but as she was the newest member and they did not yet know her capabilities she was to take over his job.

  Freddie was naturally full of himself at this promotion and promenaded about as they prepared, twirling his pistol and shrugging himself into a hard man attitude.

  ‘Cool off, Freddie,’ warned Jethro. ‘Don’t you go getting all excited, you hear?’

  ‘I’m like ice, Jethro,’ promised the jumpy Freddie. ‘Just want to get going. Can’t wait to see those farmer’s faces when we go in there.’

  ‘You keep your bandana up,’ jibed his cousin, Les. ‘They see your ugly face and they’re likely wet their pants in terror.’

  ‘Won’t be my face they fear,’ growled Freddie, waggling his pistol.

  ‘Put that damned thing away,’ snapped Jethro. ‘Afore you shoot one of us by accident.’

  He looked across at Minnie. It was a questioning, soft-eyed look asking if she was all right. She nodded, jerking her head once sharply. She was fine.