by Tony Masero
“Wh…. Where are they?”
“They are watching you now,” warned Ender quietly.
“Do not move!” the desperate man cried to the silent forest. “If you move I will kill him.”
“Too late,” whispered Ender. “They are already here.”
Panicked, the man tipped the rifle barrel away and Ender lunged forward, he drew his Colt as he came. One hand thrust the rifle barrel aside and the other buried the pistol deep into the man’s stomach. Ender pulled the trigger, knowing that the close shot would be muffled and their discovery avoided.
The man dropped like a rag doll as the slug took his spine away and exited his back leaving a bloody fist-sized crater as it went. The Winchester fell with him, his finger tightening on the trigger as he died and the cocked weapon firing. It’s boom echoed around the wood, seeming extra loud in the dawn silence.
The two Indians leapt from cover and ran over to Ender who was retrieving his Sharps from where he had laid it down.
“He is dead?” asked Peyote, looking at the fallen guard.
“Yes, but he fired that damned rifle as he fell. They will know we are here; we must make for the valley side across the stream. We will have high ground there, it will be an advantage.”
The three loped in the direction of the stream, breaking cover on the bank just as five men on horseback came from behind cottonwoods on the opposite bank.
“Got you now, Smith!” called Cyrus Land from the lead pony. “Best lay down your weapons.”
Ender still had his Colt in his hand and he fired instantly in the direction of the riders.
“Scatter!” he shouted to the others and they split apart on his call, each diving back into the cover of the woods and making off in different directions.
Bullets followed them, whistling and cracking through the leaves as they ran. Ender headed upstream back the way they had come. He ducked and ran at the crouch. Broken twigs and scattered leaves fluttered around him from the passing shot and the whine of ricochet was loud in his ear. Bark shattered on the sides of trees in a splatter of shredded splinters and he stepped up his speed.
He could hear the riders shouting and urging their ponies through the water of the stream. Their calls were loud and high with excitement as they crashed through the bushes and undergrowth.
Ender turned right and made for the stream bank, he was about five hundred yards from where the men had crossed over and by doubling back he hoped to miss them and make it to the valley slope opposite.
There was no one in sight as he broke cover and quickly he waded the stream and made it to the opposite bank. He crouched in cover and searched for the two Indians but there was no sign of them only the sound of distant gunfire and shouting from deep in the woods. Strapping the Sharps across his back, Ender began his scramble up the valley side, hugging to brush cover where he could. He made it to the crest, his chest heaving with the exertion.
The eastern valley side rose to a single narrow crest line that was covered with rocks and brittle undergrowth. It ran away south towards the Quinlan ranch and the view stretched away east across rows of undulating wooded valleys leading to some distant high country. A fair place, he considered, to get lost in.
Ender ran along the crest, keeping his eyes peeled for any lookouts that might have been placed on this high point but the way ahead was clear and no one was in sight. He sank down when he had a clear view of the valley floor and the stream below and waited. He hoped to see the returning riders and follow their path back to the ranch and maybe pick off a few with the Sharps along the way. With this in mind he checked the load on the rifle and sighted on the stream below for range.
When the riders came out from the woods, they held a man by the arms between two of the horses. It was Common Dog.
One leg was soaked in blood and the riders held him above the ground, dragging him along so only his toes reached the earth. Land rode in front, his long rifle out and ready in his hand, the other grasping the reins as he scanned the surrounding countryside.
They rode fast and as they flashed behind the covering cottonwoods below him, Ender was hard put to pick a target. He gave up the notion and rose from cover and ran at full tilt along the spine hoping to find a clearer view further on. Keeping pace with the riders, Ender hopped nimbly from boulder to boulder or charged unheeding through the thorny ankle deep undergrowth. He knew he was visible, a clear shot against the skyline but he ran on unheeding the danger as he hoped to save Common Dog from the fate he knew Quinlan and his wife would hold in store for him.
A last a clear view on some flat ground appeared ahead and Ender surged on and threw himself to the ground as the riders approached. Leveling the rifle he peered through the scope. Of necessity it was a quick shot and the first rider that crossed his crosshairs received the bullet. The rider flung his arms wide and fell, tumbling down the stream bank to roll half into the water.
The four other riders yelped in surprise at sound of the shot and they dug in their spurs to race on. A few wayward shots were fired into the woods alongside but the men had no clear view of where the fatal shot had come from and they were more concerned with escaping the next one aimed at them.
Looking down the run of the valley crest, Ender could see the tower that rose above the Quinlan spread getting closer. The men below were urging their ponies on, Common Dog dragged and bumped, with his arms pulled wide as the frightened men sped on to the safety of the ranch.
Ender ran on, he hoped to get another clear shot at them on the open ground by the ranch gate and as he approached the end of the spine, he could see it finished in a pile of boulders before a sheer drop down to the cleared land surrounding the ranch walls.
There he flopped down, and quickly pushed another shell into the breech. Bringing up the rifle, he aimed it at a downward angle towards the gates that were just swinging open to receive the coming riders.
Ender rose up slightly, leaning for a better purchase against the boulder beside him.
A hissing crash was followed by a rifle shot as shards of rock flew from the face of the boulder and spat in his face. The rock shivered at the impact as Ender realized he was being fired on.
Ender ducked down and peered around the lower edge of the boulder. He could see the man. A lookout posted on top of the tower, the man was aiming in his direction again and Ender felt the whine of the passing shot followed by the crack of the rifle.
Tiresome, he thought, as he dropped down flat and angled the Sharps under the overhang of the boulder. He knew that Common Dog was lost to them now, as he could not get another aimed shot with the lookout potting at him. Curling his lip in anger, Ender took aim. The Sharps bucked against his shoulder and the lookout spun around and staggered, his legs giving way under him. As he tipped, he fell against the protective lip of the turret. He made one feeble attempt to save himself with trembling outstretched hands, and then he dropped over the edge and fell like a stone.
Ender jumped up just in time to see the ranch gates swinging shut behind the riders. Voices were calling loud orders from within the ranch enclosure and men began racing up to the firing platform around the walls.
As Ender backed away a volley of firing came up and peppered the site of his recent position.
He sunk down and squatted out of sight. If they came up after him he would down some of them before they reached the summit. If not, he would wait here until he was able to shoot one off the walls. He decided a sniper reign of terror would be effective in keeping their heads down until he could get inside and take Caroline Quinlan. Then he would bargain for Common Dog’s release. But, he wondered, where the hell was Peyote? He prayed the Apache had not been shot down and left for dead in the woods along the valley. If he lived, Ender knew the Indian would find him.
He snaked forward again and peeked down at the fortress-style ranch. Heads were visible along the firing platform behind the thick walls although they had ceased taking any shots up at his position. Ender spotted the Sharp
s on an incautious head visible above the protective wall and fired. There was a voluminous cloud of adobe dust and he knew he had hit the wall and not the man but, at least, he thought as the head disappeared from view, I scared the hell out of him.
He lay up throughout the day and no attempt was made by the ranch gunmen to venture out to get him but they kept their heads down along the firing platform and there was little Ender could do except take an occasional warning shot to deter easy movement within the courtyard.
It was late evening when the screaming began.
The giant courtyard cottonwood tree kept the far end from Ender’s sight but he guessed that Common Dog was going through the same treatment that he had received at the hands of the Quinlan’s. He clenched his jaw and waited. There was little he could do until full dark but then he was determined to do something.
With this in mind, in the dusk he began to descend cautiously and approach the ranch. Using the cover available and with all the patience of his Apache training, Ender climbed down from the valley summit and snaked his way to within a hundred yards of the ranch walls.
The cries were long and keening and advertised the spiteful attention Common Dog was receiving. The dreadful high-pitched whine of pain forced from the Indian’s lips bit into Ender and he tried to suppress the sound and concentrate on how to get over the wall. Slowly and methodically he worked his way around the property looking for some means of access.
He found it on the far side of the ranch complex, a pile of waste rubble from the wall construction beside an overhanging tree that had obviously grown some since the land had been cleared. By using the rubble he could reach up to the overhanging branches and by climbing higher into the tree make the leap across to the wall parapet.
With the success of finding his way in, Ender settled down to wait until full dark. He squatted Indian style and allowed his mind to go into a blank waiting mode that retained energy and kept his focus fixed on the mission in hand. He had a clear picture of the tower and the courtyard in his mind and mentally he followed the path he would take to find his way to the Quinlan’s bedroom. He knew he could not take the heavy Sharp’s and loath as he was to leave it, he hid it away beneath the tree and prepared to climb the wall with only his six-gun and butcher knife.
At last the screaming ceased and Ender knew his moment was approaching.
The moon rose. It was full and Ender resented the glare of light that would make his way easier but also leave him open to being seen. He stepped up onto the pile of loose rubble, it was not a solid place to launch himself from but the overhanging branch was only a fingertip away when he reached the top of the pile. He leapt up and grasped the branch in both hands. The tree swayed ominously under his weight and he quickly drew his legs up to encircle the branch.
He waited there, hanging. There was no sound from the parapet and as he had heard earlier only one guard patrolled this rear side of the complex, he hoped the man was far enough away at present not to notice the movement of the tree. He slid along the branch and made it to the thick trunk; from there he climbed higher amongst the foliage until he could look over the ranch wall.
In the bright moonlight the shadows were sharply drawn in pitch black and the buildings and courtyard appeared pale and ghostly. He could see no sign of the patrolling guard and risking all, he scrambled along a suitably strong branch and jumped across the intervening gap. It was a leap of six feet and with relief he felt a jolt as his hands slapped against the far side of the parapet. Pulling his body up he slid over the wide, flat adobe surface and dropped down onto the far side.
There was a grunt and a murmur from along the firing platform and Ender made out the form of the guard, bundled in a serape and sleeping with his rifle resting against the wall next to him. Silently in his moccasins, Ender slipped away and along the walkway towards the tower, which rose tall and threatening above the flat white roofs of the structures below.
The tower had been constructed in the form of a castle keep but the architect had made one fatal error in the design.
Ender had noted the windows cut into the tower as he had viewed the place from up on the valley ridge. They were scattered across the surface, some small and adequate to give light to stairwells inside, others were the shape of rifle slits, deeply-cilled and rising in a zigzag pattern to the high and large arched balcony that could only represent the sleeping accommodation of the wealthy ranch owner. Baulks of timbers protruded from the face of the tower as floor supports for the rooms inside and it was by using these and the window ledges that Ender had planned to scale the building’s face and avoid any guards inside.
He began to climb, reaching from one window to the next. Some had the lantern glow of occupation but most were dark. Peering inside a few, Ender could make out the shapes of storage and utility, a kitchen in one and clothes hanging on racks in others. It appeared that Caroline Quinlan had an extensive wardrobe that it had expanded into some of the other rooms in the tower.
He heard a man cough in the darkness and froze, pinned against the wall like a black spider, his body dark against the white moonlit wall. The sound came from above him and he knew the tower lookout must have made the noise. The man coughed again and spat, the stream of sputum glistening in the moonlight as it fell past Ender.
There was the shuffle of boots as the man moved away and Ender continued to climb. It was a nerve-wracking business as he swung from the bulky floor timbers, his toes searching for purchase in the small window spaces. Fit and able as he was it was still a difficult process pushed up flat to the rough adobe without the opportunity to tilt his head more than a few inches in search of his next handhold. At forty feet above the ground, Enders fingers were sore and his legs trembling with the effort. He rested for a few minutes, then gritting his teeth he made final effort and hauled himself up the final eight feet to reach the lip of the balcony.
With relief, he dragged himself over the balustrade, the great arch above him decorated rather crudely in a peasant imitation of baroque filigree stone work. The balcony was quite wide with a polished tile floor and along the wall facing him were a set of four high and narrow louvered doors. The two center doors were open and long muslin curtains hung there moving softly in the warm night air.
Silently, Ender slipped across the tiles and gently pushed aside the curtain. By the moonlight he could see the extravagantly large and lavishly decorated bed that occupied one wall. Its dark wood surface was carved into curlicues and rolls imitating a cornucopia of fruit. At the head lay voluptuous crisp white pillows, their edges fringed with lace.
Asleep on the pillows were Quinlan and his wife, he lay bare-chested half out of the sheets. She was dressed in a nightgown with her long dark hair spread against the white of the pillows like a splash of ink. Quinlan snored gently.
Ender drew his Colt and moved swiftly across the room, he circled the bed and came around to Quinlan’s side. Raising the Colt he brought down the butt hard against the sleeping man’s skull and with a groan and a slight jerking movement, Quinlan was still.
His wife awoke with a start.
“What…. What’s that? Able? Are you all right?”
Ender reached across the unconscious rancher and bunched Caroline’s hair in his hand, he pulled her savagely towards him.
“Be quiet!” he ordered harshly.
“Who are you?” she gasped, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Somebody you should never have messed with,” Ender snarled.
“You… You’re that Marshal. What have you done to Able?”
“That’s right, I’m that Marshal. The one you had such fun with. Your husband is sleeping still but I haven’t finished with him yet. Now, get up and get dressed, you’re coming with me.”
“I am not!” she snapped, suddenly regaining her normal haughty attitude. “You can go to hell,” she snarled. “If you think I’m going anywhere with you.”
He wrenched her by the hair sharply towards him and dragged her around unt
il, still complaining she stood beside the bed.
“Do like I say, woman!” Ender ordered.
“And what if I don’t,” she said, a supercilious sneer on her beautiful face.
Ender leant forward and tore the neckline of her nightgown from her shoulder. “Either you do it or I do,” he warned. “Makes no difference, you either walk out or I carry you. Either way, you’re coming.”
With a wry glance at him, her leering look visible through the barred shadows cast by the louvered windows, she pulled apart the ribbons holding her nightgown together and let it drop from her body. She was naked underneath and she stood a moment, posed, her sumptuous outline framed by the moonlight. The pale light glistened on the provocative molding of her thigh and highlighting the rise of her ample breasts as she drew quick breaths in obvious excitement.
“You like?” she asked in a husky whisper. “You can have, if you leave me here and go. I won’t say anything, after all its not often a girl has a sturdy fellow climb through her window in the middle of the night.”
She was recovering her courage and her tone reflected it in the teasing attempt at seduction. Ender eyed her coldly.
“Lady,” he said in tired disgust. “Give it up. Just get your clothes on and we’re out of here.”
She shrugged and moved over to a dresser and began opening drawers and taking out clothes. “Where are you taking me?” she asked gaily. “Somewhere exciting I hope.”
“Hurry it up,” snapped Ender, risking a glance outside to the courtyard below and thinking about the stairs leading down through the tower away from the bedroom. He wondered just how many men there were below in the lower rooms.
She caught his look. “You’ll never make it you know,” she said, “The place is swarming with guards,” she looked across at the still figure of Quinlan. “And after what you’ve done to Able I wouldn’t give much for your chances.”
Ender strode over to her; he dropped the revolver back in his holster and drew his butcher knife. The razor sharp edge glistened wickedly in the shafts of moonlight and Caroline backed away nervously.
