In a seemingly endless surge, Snyder's column had passed within easy pistol range. As Santos expected, the outlaws clung to the road and the heavy cannon would surely follow.
But where was it? The column had passed and the gun had not come. Could Snyder have left the cannon behind to be brought up later? If so, where would it be?
A shrieking cry from the column became a thunder of shouts that dried Santos' throat and the crash of hooves rose like a cattle stampede. Where was the gun? Along the wall gunfire began to crackle and Santos felt sweat pop on his body.
Santos half rose to look farther along the trail and stared almost into the faces of the team pulling the heavy ammunition wagon. Under the raiding column's din, the cannon had approached unheard.
Gunfire swelled at the distant wall, overwhelming other sound and highlighting the breaking dawn with a monumental tangle of men and horses.
The cannon wagon jerked to a stop and two riders came alongside, questioning nervously. Two other wagons closed up and another pair of riders joined the first. With their attention on the melee at the wall, none saw death rise from the prairie.
Santos signaled his men and they rose as one, already within good shooting distance. Only steps separated them from the wagons when Juan Santos leveled his Colt pistol in a two handed hold and shot the furthest rider just below his hat brim. Shooting upward, into the morning light, silhouetted the outlaws and Santos' men could not miss.
Amid the rolling thunder of the rifles and shotguns along the wall, their pistols barely sounded, but the four horsemen were blasted from their saddles beneath a hail of bullets fired almost within touching.
It was over in a moment. Ranch men leaped to the wagon seats and Santos went for the cannon. He jammed his nail into the gun's touchhole and a man drove it home with a steel rifle butt. An iron cannon ball was dropped from wagon and, using all of his strength, Santos sledged the soft iron until the nail swaged itself flat along the barrel. That, figured the foreman, took care of Snyder's cannon.
A man came with a horse and Santos swung into the saddle. No threat came from Snyder's riders, who were probably fighting for their lives along the wall, and Santos urged the wagons across the prairie and into the shelter of Father Hector's unfinished church. He arranged his men in a tight defense and distributed the dead outlaws' weapons. The wagons were soon out of sight and the low adobe walls bristled with gun barrels. If Snyder attempted to recapture his wagons and his cannon, he would pay a heavy price and, Santos still had his short-fused bomb.
Juan Santos listened to the now occasional shots from the direction of the valley wall and heard individual horses gallop south along the wagon road. He guessed Snyder had already paid a price heavier than he could stand.
+++
Silence, lead-heavy and brooding, fell along Shatto's wall. It was broken by an injured horse's labored grunts, but a single rifle shot ended the animal's misery and restored the unnatural quiet. Amid the jumble of downed horses and men nothing stirred. If it had, ready rifles would have blasted it.
Morning sunlight swept onto the scene and almost immediately lighted the plains to the distant river. Seeing better, men cursed and a few women sobbed, whether for the slaughtered horses or executed men was not clear. The bodies lay mixed, crushed, and shot through with flies already feasting.
To see further, Ted Shatto stood atop his wall. There might be hidden life in a still figure below, but even a flicker of movement would bring instant bullets. As far as he could see, nothing moved and moments later, the cliff top lookouts began reporting. Their information was relayed along the wall to Ted, so all learned that their victory was truly complete. Escaping outlaws rode in many directions. A few traveled together and some walked out on the prairie. A number lay where they had fallen, too hurt to go further. None gathered to reorganize. Where was Juan Santos and his men? The word came. Forted in the new church with the cannon and three wagons.
As clear as the victory seemed, Ted Shatto felt the weight of the many dead. Dozens had died in his trap. Although his mind knew the awfulness of what failure to kill them would have meant, there were so very many, and it had been done so firing squad quick, that the actuality of it overwhelmed.
Without thinking, Ted's eyes had searched for Snyder's body. It could be there, trapped as many were, under horses or other men, but he didn't see it. Alarm tickled. If Snyder escaped he might come again. Not with an army perhaps, but with a clever ambush, perhaps a buffalo gun at long range? Ted passed the word to the lookouts to search closely for a man with one hand.
Dead horses clogged the canyon's entrance and nothing could pass. Already the stench of death rose strongly. When the sun's heat settled in, the carcasses would swell. Moving such a pile was a giant task and his people surely wished to sleep and talk away the dawn's violence, but the mess could not wait.
Juan Santos was already riding in. Ted sent men out to utilize the wagons' teams and to round up other mounts. They would begin dragging carcasses away.
Inside, others would drag horses from the entrance. Later, they too would have to be hauled far onto the prairie. Throughout the summer the stink of rotting would taint the air. It would be important to leave the animals where their stench did not blow into the canyon.
Father Gomez could take charge of the human burials. One grave, outside the canyon should do it.
Food came in a wagon from up-canyon but the eating was hurried and many were in no mood for it. Soon the heap of dead was aswarm with men and women separating men from animals. Pairs of horsemen dropped ropes over dead mounts and skidded them free of the pile. All useful was salvaged and teams began dragging the carcasses to the north and close to the cliffs where coyotes and buzzards could work without disturbance.
Women dug into the hard earth to prepare a common grave and Ted sent boys to help. The wagons piled with nameless forms waited completion of the burial hole and the mounds of saddles, bridles, bedrolls, hats, guns, ropes, and canteens grew immense.
Word came from the lookouts that a one-handed man with a bandaged face was riding south with four other men. They rode slowly as though some were wounded, but they kept going.
Ted signaled Juan Santos and the foreman again chose men. Ted took no chances. His band would number ten. They armed and took the best horses. Ted led them south at a rapid trot. He was pleased to see Jesus Escalante riding with them. The youth had proven himself and could be useful again.
When they rode out, heads barely lifted. All understood the mission but most were too weary with too heavy labors ahead to worry unnecessarily. Senor Ted did not fail. Hadn't this dawn of death proven it? There was a great deal of breast crossing as the people labored.
+++
Chapter 16
Chinca saw with disbelief. While the sun slept a battle beyond telling had finished. During the last dark he had seen the flash of many guns, but that had been almost with the dawn and was weakened by the coming light. In the new day Ted's Eye showed clearly the destruction of the enemy. Chinca cared not for the many horses that Ted's tribe dragged away, but the wagons of dead awed him and the mounds of valuable things excited even his aged senses.
Many of Ted's enemies escaped toward the lands of the Apache. Chinca saw them as easy victories. Amid the slaughter at Ted's wall, their disappearance would be unnoticed. He rolled stones and a woman summoned men who could fight. The fighters chattered like jays, deciding and dividing their prey. Chinca was glad when they were gone. Soon he would see their skills as they trotted into battle. Until then, there was much to see at the Valley of Bones.
Before the sun was high, Ted and two hands of men rode to the south. Chinca did not know their purpose but when Ted turned to raise a hand in salute, Chinca saw that his face was hard.
Ted led his men, towering like a bull among calves. Powerful was Ted's medicine for he had added many spirits to those already claimed by the Valley of Bones.
The Watcher sighed and turned his magic eye onto the valley. Old
ones puttered while young girls did the work of their mothers—who labored among the piled dead at the wall.
The Valley of Bones had become a place of great beauty and home to many but, to the Apache people, it was a canyon of death. The new dead proved the old tales. No Apache would enter such a place of ghosts. Chinca was pleased with the knowledge, for in many ways he had become one with the people of Ted. As it was so. The Watcher was grateful that his new people were mighty fighters. They would live for many generations and Chinca did not doubt that his spirit would be known to them. Stories of The Watcher who had seen over them would survive those generations.
+++
As they hurried their horses south along the cliff base, Juan Santos rode beside Ted Shatto. Behind them were tough men who could shoot and who could be counted on.
Ted Shatto was proud of them for many reasons. Here rode men who spoke two languages, who raised strong families, and who intended someday to own their own land with houses, gardens, and animals. Without hesitation they rode to fight for the ranch that made much of that possible. At the wall, two men had died and a woman had been hard hit. Others had smaller wounds that should heal, but healed did not make the wounded as they had been. Gunshots were not often shrugged away by a week's rest or a comforting sling. Limbs remain weakened or twisted and health might be forever puny. The ranch people too had suffered and, as they rode, Ted Shatto and his men were keenly aware that it was not yet over.
+++
Although they tried to keep moving, Snyder's small group was hindered by their wounds and tired horses. Needing each other's attentions, they stuck together. Jud Carp had an almost crippling bullet crease across a thigh and a deep gouge in the meat of his back. Two of the men had bullets lodged within and the third's horse limped from an injury when so many went down.
After they had gone a few miles, enough to feel free of immediate pursuit, Snyder called a halt to treat wounds. Snyder cared little for the others' condition, but his ruined nose continued to bleed and demanded attention.
When he looked at Snyder's nose, Jud Carp spared no feelings. "Damn thing's about shot off and it's bleeding like a spring. We'll have to cauterize it, Captain."
Snyder took it because there was no choice. A greasewood fire heated a knife blade until it glowed and the red hot metal was jammed against the bleeders until they sealed. Before he passed out, John Snyder screamed until the hills echoed. When he came to, the pain half blinded him and he was sick with headache.
Carp shrieked as loudly when the glowing blade sealed his wounds. Nothing could be done for the men with bullets within. Sometimes such wounds healed over with little effect. More often they infected and the wounded died in agony.
They struggled on, but near noon Snyder saw pursuit coming. It was close enough to count ten riders and they were coming hard. Snyder judged the distance to his hidden remounts and came up short. His eye caught Jud Carp's and the exchange was knowing. Neither intended being run down and finished off. For the moment, Snyder said nothing and urged his party into motion.
+++
While they allowed their horses a breather, Ted Shatto glassed the rough lands ahead. He isolated their quarry moving through distant draws and nodded satisfaction. "We're catching them, Juan. Their horses must be done in."
Santos agreed, but patting his mount's flank he added, "Ours are tired too, Senor Ted. We should not work them too hard."
Ted said, "Just so we've got 'em pinned before night. They might turn in the dark and we could lose 'em."
"They will stand and fight before then, Senor."
"You're right, Juan, so we'll plan for it now. When they make a stand, I'll take Jesus and three men and start around them. You close in from the front and we'll have them boxed. They remounted and Ted led off.
Riding behind Senor Shatto, Jesus Escalanate felt special pride. Earlier he, the hunter, had found the tracks of the men they now followed. The Senor had noticed. To be chosen by name to maneuver behind their enemy was also a proud thing. Escalante vowed to be worthy. After the wall shooting he had cleaned his Sharps and was prepared to show the Senor that, in selecting Escalante, he had chosen well.
+++
The pursuit was close now, but John Snyder waited as long as he could. He chose a draw whose mouth could be defended and pulled up.
"All right, we'll stop 'em here. What we'll do is spread out and hold 'em well out until dark. That'll rest our animals and when the moon goes down we'll be able to slip out and ride to where the remounts are located. With fresh horses, there'll be no catching us."
He signaled to Carp. "Jud, you help me get the animals back where they'll be safe. Then you go up high on the left and I'll take the right. You three hold the middle. Shoot when you see 'em. Hitting isn't important; keeping them well back is."
His men sought positions and Snyder and Carp took the reins and led the five horses deep into the draw. When Snyder stopped, Carp knew what to do. He clambered onto his mount and kept hold of the extra reins.
Carp's smirk was disdainful. "Hope those damned fools put up a good fight, Captain."
Snyder's laugh was only a short bark. His nose hurt too much to enjoy anything. They rode away, taking the others' horses, without a glance behind.
+++
Coming into a draw, Ted saw movement ahead. He pulled up sharply and an instant later a bullet struck well ahead of them.
"They're holing up, Juan." He quickly judged the terrain. "I'll go around by the left." Ted booted his horse up a side draw and heard hooves clatter as Escalante and three others followed.
Their course was winding and Ted chose to go well around. In full summer, their dust might have warned the outlaws that they were already being circled, but the earth still held moisture and even the hoof beats were muffled. The main thing was to stay beyond range as they worked to the enemy's rear.
Ted went a good half mile before he swung in behind the sound of gunfire. He was concentrating on closing behind the outlaws when Jesus Escalante got his attention.
"Senor!" Escalante was pointing behind them.
Ted looked just in time. A pair of horsemen disappeared behind an outcropping not a mile distant.
"Son of a . . . " Ted cut his expletive short.
"All right, they've split up. You three help Juan finish here. Then come after us. Jesus and I'll try to pin those two before it gets too dark." Ted spun his horse and Escalante roweled his into motion.
Ted judged the sun. They would have time. The danger would be in being picked off by an ambush. The outlaws could wait along the way and shoot straight. Two pursuers could be handled that way where a big bunch couldn't. Ted had to modify the thought a little because he had done just that to half an army back along the wall.
Whew, was that only hours ago? Ted's eyes burned with fatigue. His sprained ankle was swollen in his boot and throbbed like a sore tooth. Escalante looked little better. His chin was about on his chest and he sat his horse like a grain sack. Well . . . the outlaws would be worse off and Ted guessed he and the boy could do the job.
+++
Snyder and Carp hauled their exhausted mounts to a halt. Ahead, only a few hundred yards, stood a ramshackle cabin. Hidden within a brush choked canyon, it was invisible until almost upon it. A corral with horses stood alongside and Jud Carp's hopes leaped at the sight.
John Snyder fired his rifle in hope of rousing the Mexican he had hired. Their pursuers had closed the distance and were not a half mile behind. Damn it, there just wasn't time to make the switch. Snyder knew who was coming for them. Ted Shatto's big form was unmistakable. He rode leaned forward over his horse as though hungry to get at them—which was probably the case.
"Damn it, Jud, you'll have to hold them till I get fresh horses cut out and saddled. You're the better shot; you'll have to do it."
Carp knew Snyder was right but he wasn't a fool either. "All right, Captain. I'll hold 'em, but I ain't like them others. I can hit any spot in the canyon from here and I do
n't figure to get left. Keep that in mind."
Carp swung off and Snyder headed for the remounts. The Mexican hostler had appeared and stood uncertainly, looking toward the horse charging down on him.
Ted heard the shots from close ahead but no bullets came their way.
Escalante pulled alongside, his horse blowing and foam drenched. "Maybe one shot the other for his animal, Senor?"
Ted didn't find that likely. Snyder and his companion needed each other. The shooting placed them pretty well and Ted veered aside to try a ridgeline that paralleled their route. Unsure, Ted slowed to a walk, his rifle held ready and his eyes exploring.
They topped out suddenly. To their left horses danced within a corral and figures moved among them.
Jesus pointed, "They're both there, Senor."
Ted gigged his horse just as stones rattled and a saddled horse, exhausted and still heaving, stepped its rein-dragging way downward toward its companions. For an instant Ted couldn't' figure it. Then he came off his mount and into cover in a flow of motion that left Escalante behind.
The horse proved that someone was still up in the draw they had just bypassed. Luck had held and without knowing, they had walked their mounts past the ambusher. Where would he be? Ted Shatto began to Injun his way. They could not get to the men saddling horses with an ambusher behind them. Ted felt Escalante at his shoulder as he eased ahead.
Jud Carp lay with his rifle pointing along the draw. Shatto was slow coming in but that suited him. He kept glancing back to make sure Snyder didn't attempt riding out on him. Carp doubted he would try after the warning he'd given, but Carp knew Snyder would be thinking about it.
Shatto's Law (Perry County Frontier) Page 21
