by David Cross
The sound had come from only a few yards in front of him, and slightly to his right. He could not see anything, but he knew there was some movement, and he would stake his life on it being the one called Marty. He brought the rifle to a sighting position, aiming about wast level in the direction of the sound, and squeezed the trigger, jacked another shell into the chamber and fired again in the beat of a heart..
He had hit his target, because he heard the man hit the ground with a thud. He figured it must have been fatal, because there was no further sound. He settled back to wait, wishing he had some water. He was thirsty, and he was sure Sarah was thirsty too. He picked up a small stone from the floor, and wiped it clean on his pants, then put it in his mouth. It was not a cool drink of water, but it would help to keep the saliva flowing in his mouth.
Chapter VI
The Chase
The sun rose in a rosy glow among the cedar brake, slowly peeping above the tops, creating a brilliant aurora for each stunted growth. It was a beautiful sight, and with it came warmth, pushing away the cold of the desert night. Sarah was lying in the crook of his arms, her jacket drawn close around her, legs drawn up to conserve what little warmth she could. She groaned; as he held her closer, giving warmth to her, as much as he drew the welcome heat from her own body.
She stirred, her arm reaching around his waist to squeeze him closer to her. He moved a little, to give him a better view of the land in front of him. There were desert wrens flitting about, twittering, and a badger waddled along at a fast pace, probably out looking for its morning meal. He searched the landscape, looking for any sign of his adversaries, but saw no movement, and heard no sounds, other than the birds.
It was then that he realized the significance of the birds. If the birds were flying freely thought the branches of the cedars, which had to mean that there was no humans around to disturb them. Their attackers had evidently left some time during the night. He raised his hat on the end of the rifle barrel, and no one shot at it. He raised it a little higher, and still nothing. He peeped out from behind the rock, where he had been hiding, and still no shots came his way.
Somewhat surprised, he woke Sarah, climbed stiffly to his feet, and they both walked tentatively outside, still cautious in case their attackers were hiding some place close by, but there was no one around. He found where he had tied the man upon his arrival, but he was gone, and so was his horse. His friends had untied him, and Jake had been facing four men, instead of the three he had thought he was facing.
He circled through the cedars at the front of the cave and found the body of the man who had been hit in the shoulder. They had decided to leave their excess baggage behind. The badger had evidently had his morning meal, and was headed home, since the man’s face was half eaten away. He found his horse nearby, tied to a branch, and led it back for Sarah, purposefully not mentioning the dead man. It would only upset her further.
He led the horse back to where he had left his own hidden, then mounted and the two of them made there way back to the wagon trail, and up the escarpment. It was a long ride to the Catano ranch, and they had to go around the Circle M to avoid running into some of the gunnies hired by Murdock. The horse Sarah was riding was a Circle M horse, and wanted to go back to the ranch for food. It was all Sarah could do to keep him headed in the right direction.
Four tough looking vaqueros met them at the gate to the ranch, and escorted them to the hacienda. Jose was delighted to have Sarah, and more than happy that she would be staying for a few days. He again offered his two best vaqueros to Jake, but he refused, telling him it would be best for him to finish the job alone. They were treated to a breakfast of eggs, frijoles with corn tortillas, and hot enough to set most men on fire that was cooked by Catano’s housekeeper.
After breakfast, Catano insisted he take Hector Mendoza with him, if he would not let him supply any others, and he finally agreed.
He had knowledge of Hector, and his prowess with a revolver, as well at his sharp eye with a rifle, so he finally gave in. He had spent some time in his company, down in Tucson a few years back, and seen him single-handedly stop five men from robbing the bank. When the smoke had cleared all five lay dead in the street, and Hector still had a bullet left in his gun. He was definitely a man to ride the river with.
They set out for Murdock’s ranch, both men riding straight in their saddles, silent, each dwelling on his own thoughts. It was entirely possible that one of them would not make it home alive, that one, or both would lie face down in the dirt, when the smoke had cleared. He did not like the thought of being the cause of another man’s death. He had never lied to a person in his life, had never tried to pee down anyone’s back and tell them it was raining, lead them by the nose, or to deceive them in any way when it came to endangering their lives.
They kept their horses at a walk, neither in a hurry to meet what might be their last day of life. Not that they were afraid, but both men loved life, and loved the freedom to spend it as they liked, whether with loved ones, or alone on the side of some mountain. That freedom was of the utmost importance to them, and was something they would fight to the death for, if necessary.
They rode into the yard, only to find the place the same as Jake had found it yesterday. Harvey Murdock was not anywhere in sight. He rode to the smithy, just as he had the day before, but he spoke to him in a kinder tone, with a greater amount of respect. He had no animosity for a man who earned a living as his forebears had for generations. He was not Jake’s enemy, only a man doing an honest job for pay. He was not one of the hired guns Murdock had brought in to ride roughshod over the valley, forcing honest men from their homes.
“Have you seen Murdock,” Jake asked.
“Yes sir mister Killman. He came back about two hours after you left yesterday. Then one of them gun slicks came riding in, early this morning, tied up in front of the main house, and went inside. A few minutes later, he and the gun slick came out, and I heard him holler for the hostler to saddle his horse. He rode out of here with that gun slick, like the devil himself was after them”
“Do you know where they were going?” Jake asked.
A big grin crossed the smith’s face. He rolled his massive shoulders once, before he answered. “Shore enough. I was close enough to them when they mounted, to overhear him tell his gunny to round up the rest of the boys and meet him in Strawberry, and that since you got your wife free, and killed two more of his gun hands, it was time to bring this to an end. Mister Killman, I think he aims to go hunting for you. I suspect he will head for your place when he has all those gunfighters together.”
A sour grin crossed his face when he heard the last. Murdock had more grit than he had given him credit for.
“How long ago did they leave?”
“About an hour before you rode up. It won’t take him much time to get all those gunmen together either,” the smith said. “You’d best get some help mister Killman.”
“This is my fight. I will deal with your boss myself.”
“Just a friendly warning. Ten more guns rode in late yesterday evening. It’ll make the odds a might uneven.”
Jake nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate the warning.”
He pulled back on the reins of his horse and rode out of the ranch, Hector keeping pace with him. When he had ridden far enough from the ranch to be out of sight, he spurred his horse into a mile-eating gallop, hector matching his pace without a word. He knew he had heard what the blacksmith had told him, and that he had to reach Strawberry before Murdock and his hired guns could leave town.
Since a showdown was inevitable, he would take the fight to them, on ground that would leave his home safe from being fired. Murdock wouldn’t dare damage any of the buildings in Strawberry. It would bring in the law against him, and there was nothing that would bring the sheriff around than a report that he had burned out the town. He and his men would be forced to face him in the open, and there would be witnesses to everything that happened.
H
e could feel the adrenaline flowing through his body, giving him a temporary jolt of energy. There was a feeling of invincibility, and a false sense of well being. He would not ride into this fight blindly though; he would take the fight to his enemy with caution. He looked across at Hector, and could see a crooked smile pasted on his lips, and a glint of excitement on his face. Hector was a warrior headed into battle, ready for anything the enemy might throw at him, looking forward to the coming confrontation. All fear had been washed from them, leaving only a cold, steely resolve, to vanquish their foes, to go home victors, and to end this range war, once and for all.
When they neared the settlement, they slowed their horses to a walk, their eyes searching for the army of gunmen the smithy had told them had been sent for. Less than a hundred yards from the Stoler saloon, they still could not see more than three horses tied at the rail in front. Jake looked across at Hector, a small grin creasing his face, and got the same in return. Both of them were satisfied that they had beaten the bulk of hired guns, that the only ones they would have to face was Murdock and two of his men.
They rode to the side of the saloon; ground reined their horses, and strolled around to the front corner, looking at the roof of the store, toward the livery, which sat at the far end of the muddy street. There had been a night shower the night before, and the street was churned to a course, sticky mud. The sky was still overcast, with large thunderheads in the west, that promised more rain to come. The day was still cool, though it was close to noon.
They eased from the one street that ran the length of the settlement to the boardwalk, walking quietly to the front of the saloon. Jake had no desire to shoot up Stoler’s place, so he motioned to Hector to back away into the street. Raising his voice he yelled out his challenge to Murdock and his men.
“Murdock! You and your men come on out and face me if you’re a man.”
There was silence, with only the twittering of a few birds near by. He saw Hector move further off to the side, making it harder for them to sight in on two targets so close together. The seconds raced by on fleeting wings, but to Jake they seemed to drag along at a snail’s pace.
The silence of the first few seconds was shattered suddenly as a shot clipped the brim of Jake’s hat, giving it a gentle tug as the bullet missed him by inches. He had seen the flash from the muzzle, just to the right of the batwings, and the glint of a gun peeping over the top. His hand flashed to his dragoon, the pistol leaping into his hand, flame blazing from the end of his revolver, a return answer to the bullet that had sent his hat sailing into the street. Everything speeded up from that moment, leaving little time for thinking, only action. He did not think he had hit his assailant, but he saw a small chunk of wood from the top of one of the batwings, as he dove for cover.
He quickly ran for the north corner of the saloon, while Hector ran for the south corner. Another shot rang out, just as he made it to the safety of the building, the bullet clipping the heel of his boot, almost causing him to lose his balance. He heard firing from the direction Hector had gone, but he rolled around the corner out of the line of fire, and did not know if the shot had come from his friend, or from one of Murdock’s men. He supposed it had come from Hector, since Murdock and his men were inside the saloon.
He eased his head around the corner, and another bullet whistled over his head, the breeze of its passing a cool streak across his scalp. It had been very close. He jerked his head back, so that the next bullet clipped the edge of the wood where his head had been. He had to get a bead on the one who was doing the shooting, and the only way he could do that was to get to the store.
His experiences in the Confederacy had taught him that a running man was one of the hardest targets to hit. He gave little thought from that moment on, but gathered his legs under him and pushed off, making a run for the storefront’s far side. He could hear the buzz of bullets, like bees buzzing close to his face, as he sprinted for his goal. He was brought up short by the side of the store, rolling around the corner to safety. Circling around the building, he entered the back door, which led through Eli’s living quarters and on through the store.
Eli’s wife, Dorothy, was cowering behind a bureau, her hands over her ears. It was evident that she was frightened out of her wits by all the gunfire, and he couldn’t blame her. This was no place to be when bullets were flying, because they were no respecter of persons, either innocents, or combatants.
“Sorry ma’am,” Jake said apologetically. “Just stay low and you won’t get hurt. This will be over in a bit.”
“Jake? Jake Killman? Eli told me you were back. What’s this all about?” she asked in a frightened voice, as she started to rise from her hiding place.
“I’m afraid it’s a showdown between Murdock and myself. I’m sorry you and Eli had to get dragged into the middle of the fight.”
“Why can’t men just reason things out, like us women,” she mumbled, sitting back in the corner, where the bureau was pushed against the wall.
He smiled sardonically, shaking his head at her query. He had no answer for her, at least not one that she would understand. He felt sorry for her, for the fear this shooting caused, wishing he could offer some consolation, but he could think of none. She was just one of the innocents caught up in this small war.
He touched his finger to his brow, and quickly ran for the front of the store, passing Eli on the way, who was hiding behind a barrel with axe, and pick handles in it. At the front door, he peeped through the glass window. He could see nothing of Hector at first, then he saw his crumpled figure lying on the ground at the corner of the saloon. Hector had been shot and Jake had no way of knowing if he was dead or just wounded.
He saw a gunman stick his head around the batwing, cautiously looking for a target. His hand moved rapidly, lining up the head in the sights of his dragoon. He squeezed off a shot gently and watched the face disappear, in a spray of blood. One down, two to go he thought. He waited patiently for something to happen, but the minutes raced by, and still no sign of anyone else. He figured Murdock must be alone, or at the least one of his henchmen might be left.
Finally he exposed himself by pushing his left arm around the corner, but nothing happened. He stuck his head out a bit and still nothing happened. Venturing further, he stepped cautiously out the door, gun ready for action, but still nothing.
He ran across the street to where Hector had fallen and bent to take his head in his arms. When his eyes fluttered open, Hector looked up at him, a slight grin twisting his mouth but quickly turned to a grimace that ended in a sudden convulsion, as his head rolled to the side, and his staring eyes looking at the clouded sky, unable to see.
Jake picked up the body and carried it inside the saloon, laying it gently on one of the tables. He knew there would not be anyone waiting for him there. Murdock and his gunman had evidently escaped unseen, shooting Mendoza in the process. They had evidently caught him from behind, since the bullet had entered his back, not the front. One of them, probably Murdock’s man, had slipped out the back of the saloon, and come up behind him, while Murdock held Mike Stoler inside, then they both had taken flight, while he had been making his way through the store. This was the way he had it figured, but with the death of Hector, only Mike could supply the answers.
He took one last look at the body lying on the table, brushed his hand across the staring eyes, and turned to find Stoler tied to one of the chairs. He stepped across to him and untied his friend, removing the kerchief that was stuffed in his mouth.
“Sorry Jake,” he sputtered. “They tied me up so I could interfere.”
“Did you get a line on which way they might have headed?” Jake asked.
“Nope. They just went out the back door, and then I heard a shot. That must have been when they killed this fellow. Isn’t that Jose Catano’s Segundo?”
“Yep,” he said in a low voice. “I’d appreciate it if you would get in touch with Catano, and let him know. I think he will probably be shaken by the
death of his friend and long time employee.”
Stoler nodded solemnly, and asked, “What do you aim to do now?”
“I’m going after Murdock, this will never be over until he’s dead. My wife is at Catano’s place Mike. Would you tell her I went after Murdock. I’d appreciate it. Tell her I have to stop him once and for all, or he will only come back to haunt us later.”
Stoler nodded, and watched him push through the batwings. He retrieved his hat, gathered his mount and walked him in a large circle around the settlement, looking for some sign of Murdock’s trail. He did not know the tracks of Murdock’s horse, but he sure as hell knew the left shoe build up on the hoof of his companion. He was the man who had kept him and Sarah pinned in the cave a few days before. He didn’t know his name, but he knew the hoof print.
CHAPTER X
The Showdown
When he found the tracks, he was surprised to find they did not lead north toward the ranch, but off to the southwest, toward the canyon country. He followed the tracks of the horse with a small triangle notch in the left front right shoe and the built up rear shoe for two miles. When he was sure the two men would not turn back toward Murdock’s ranch, he put his horse in a mile eating lope, following in the general direction the two men had taken.
An hour later he took out the brass telescope, and peered through it at the country in front of him. The only thing he could see moving was a few head of stray cattle and a couple of deer. Murdock and his henchman had evidently gained enough of a head start to leave him far behind. He replaced the scope and touched spurs to his horse, and kept his horse at fast pace as he watched diligently for the tracks he was following. From their direction, he figured they would wind up at Black Canyon Trading Post if they kept riding in the same direction the tracks were taking. It was a general store, and a place that traded with the Navajos, which wandered through, and on some occasions a few Apaches. It was a saloon of sorts; a place where bandits had been known to hole up in the past. But that had been years ago, when the country was virtually unsettled.
