by Jake Logan
It would be a long wait, he knew as he dropped his butt on a chair. This would be a war of who could last the longest, attackers or the defenders, like those castles in Europe he’d read about once. They were all under siege.
“Sorry I got you in this,” he apologized to Angela as she came by to serve him.
“I’ve been in worse fixes,” she said.
He shook his head. “Not your war.”
“I’ll make it mine.” She winked, filled his cup, and waited for his reply
“Thanks,” he said, and let her to go serve the rest.
“What will they try next?” Sam asked, taking a seat opposite him. “Hermosa is watching the back for me.”
“Good. I think they’ll try to burn us out.”
“Good thing it’s been raining.” She raised her gaze to the roof. “That may save our lives. Those shingles will be hard to burn today.”
“Don’t let them get close enough to hurl a torch up there,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.
“They are staying behind the bunkhouse and the barn,” Lopez said from his position at the front shutter.
“My grandfather held off the damn Comanches two different times in this fort,” Sam announced.
“We can hold them off,” Slocum said softly. “We will.”
“Quick, Slocum, come! They’ve got a wagon!” Lopez shouted.
“Told you so,” McCurdy growled as Slocum passed the man. “Your time is running out.”
Slocum frowned at the loud clunk behind him, and when he turned to look back he saw Angela standing over the prisoner, who was slumped in the chair, she had a cast-iron skillet in her hands.
“I had enough of him and his talking bad,” she said.
Slocum nodded agreement.
25
“Shoot for their legs,” Slocum ordered.
A barrage of bullets struck the dirt, ricocheting off the iron rims. But the hot lead took a toll; three of the men using the wagon for a shield fell wounded on the ground. Two had to be dragged back, and the rest abandoned the wagon and scurried for cover. A cheer went up in the house.
“That sent them running,” Ray said with a wide grin. Despite having his arm in a sling, he was doing his part in the shooting.
“Them hired guns don’t like taking lead,” Slocum said. “Taylor’s going to have to up the ante to keep them here for very long.”
“You mentioned the Rangers. Are they coming?” Ray asked. His face was black with gunpowder.
“I hope so,” Slocum said, looking with concern as the two women worked on Miguel. “He hurt bad?”
“No,” Angela said. “He’s only scratched.”
“Good,” Slocum said, knowing he needed everyone should the raiders try a desperate rush on the house.
“You’ve been in a range war before?” Ray asked, watching out the slot for the attackers’ next move.
“A couple. They aren’t fun. You sorry you left your store job?”
“No.”
“Good. Before this day is over you might be.”
“No, I won’t be going back to that.” He looked around to be sure they had some privacy. “I kinda planned to become her foreman when this is over.”
“Good idea. She’ll need one. Keep watching. I’m going to go out back and see what they’re up to around there.”
Slocum crossed the room and entered the small back room. He found Hermosa with his eye to the rifle slot.
“Anything?”
“No, but I think they are out there.”
“You mean they haven’t gone home?” Slocum asked with a wide smile.
“Look out there. Don’t that brush move beyond the outhouse?” the man asked, and backed up for Slocum to look.
The tops of the sage moved unnaturally. No wind pushed them that way. Men were behind some clumps and obviously trying to belly in closer unseen. Slocum straightened and then nodded to the man. “I think we can stop that.”
“Shoot at them?” Hermosa asked, levering a shell in the .44/40.
“Yes, but not with that. With her twelve-gauge. It will penetrate the grass better than bullets.”
“Sí.” A smile spread over Hermosa’s copper face. He hurried into the other room, and returned with the longbarreled twelve-gauge.
Slocum took the scattergun. He had two targets, one to the left of the outhouse and the other at the right-hand side. He would have to shoot fast. The first shot would warn them and they could hunker down low enough that he would shoot over them.
Taking a sight down the double rib, he chose the left target and the scattergun exploded, slamming into his shoulder like a freight train as he swung the barrel and fired the second casing. The shouts of the wounded raiders drew a grin from Hermosa. Slocum pulled in the smoking barrel. It sure hurt his shoulder to shoot the thing. How did Sam do it?
“What’s happening?” Sam asked from the doorway.
“I used your kicker on two of them out there,” he said. “And we got some cries, so I must have done some good. That thing sure kicks.”
“I heard the howls and the blasts. It kicks, but it sure works.”
Hermosa agreed with a big nod. He looked out the slot and laughed out loud. “They are leaving now,” he said.
Slocum rushed to see. Three riders were mounting their horses. One was obviously wounded.
“Should we kill them?” Hermosa asked, ready with his Winchester.
“No,” Slocum said. “The fight’s out of them. Taylor can’t hold out now. They’ll be leaving unless . . .”
“Unless what?” Sam asked from the doorway behind them.
“I don’t know, but he may still try to burn us out come dark.”
“We’ve got a few hours,” she said.
“I know. I want to be ready.” Slocum wished he had more idea of what Taylor was thinking out there. Obviously, Taylor’s shot-up gunhands were quitting on him. But that would only make him more desperate to make a last-ditch attempt.
The next hour passed uneventfully. From his place, Ray spotted one of the men as he ran from the barn to the bunkhouse, and shot at him twice. Then he shook his head. “I missed him.”
The heat in the house, with all the shutters pulled, and the stench of spent powder made their eyes water. Under less than ideal conditions, they watched and waited. Angela made a pan of cinnamon rolls in a dutch oven, and the pungent aroma put grins on the men’s faces.
The rolls were too hot to handle, so the men pinched off small pieces to eat when she delivered a hot bun to each one at his post. Sam followed her with fresh coffee for their cups, and Slocum knew it would help wake them all up.
He had not seen a sign of Taylor, and wondered if the man was even there. As he chewed the soft sweet dough, he decided what he had to do next—get out of the house and learn what the raiders were up to. He was the one best equipped to do that. Sam would still have plenty of good gunhands inside if he didn’t make it back. No sense in them all sitting cooped up if there were no raiders left. And if only a few were left, he could take them out himself.
“I’m going out the back door,” he announced in a low voice. “You might distract them with a few rounds into the bunkhouse walls.”
“You can’t do that,” Sam said.
“I need to see how many Taylor has left.”
“But—”
“I’ll be fine. You all save that ammo except for good shots. You have food and water. I’ll be back.”
She followed him to the back door.
“See anything, Hermosa?” he asked.
“Nothing.” The man had his face to the shutter looking around for sight of anything.
“I’m going to try for the outhouse. When they start shooting in the front room, you keep your eye out for anyone shooting at me.”
“Sí.”
“Go to shooting,” Slocum said to the others, and then he drew open the back door. “Close it fast, Sam,” he said, and was out in the brilliant sunlight, his leather soles striking
the ground.
A barrage of bullets from out front went unanswered as Slocum, with his Colt in his fist, raced for the outhouse. He stopped beside it without drawing any fire. A heavy drone of flies buzzed in his ear, and the sharp pungent stink of the place ran up his nostrils. He caught his breath and listened. The noise of the windmill overhead, the one down in the lot, and the wind was all he could hear.
Had his diversion worked? He hoped so. He needed to make his way down the row of thick cedars, and then he would be behind the barn. His route would have to be taken slowly and carefully. He eased around the outhouse, and almost stumbled over the corpse of one of the raiders. In a bloody heap at his feet, the man lay on his back, his empty eyes stared at the azure-blue sky. One dead raider—Slocum did not recognize him as he pushed on for the next clump of cedar.
Rising to an upright stance, he drew a grateful breath in the security of the thick boughs. Was there anyone left to fight? Gun in hand, he raced for the next brushy evergreen. He sprawled out in the damp ground and tried to search for a sign from his spot under the cedars. Not able to see anything, he wiggled forward and made out the bunkhouse and pens—no movement. On his hands and knees, he crawfished back, and then rose to his feet, brushing the needles and debris off his clothes. Then he heard someone call, and froze.
Where were they?
Slocum listened. Then he dove back under the cedar cover and worked his way to where he saw two of them climbing out the back window of the bunkhouse and then heading for the barn. Obviously the hands in the house couldn’t see the fleeing raiders, or they’d have shot at them.
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” he heard someone shout.
He was already out from under the tree and running for the barn in the open. No time for cover. He had to take the chance that they wouldn’t think anyone was outside the house.
He reached the side of the barn, then waved at the house so they knew it was him. Controlling his breathing, he listened.
“We’re lighting a shuck. Taylor’s done quit us. I think this is a setup to get us killed. Get your horses.”
“What about our money?” someone asked.
“I’d rather have my neck. He never said there would be women in that house either.”
“That sumbitch owes us.”
“Hell with that—”
“Drop them guns!” Slocum ordered, stepping around the corner.
He faced four pale-faced men leading their horses. One of the men considered trying something, then thought better of the notion. He raised his hands and stopped.
“Who the hell are you?” the one with the black mustache asked.
“Taylor hired you?” Slocum asked, ignoring his question.
“So?”
“You boys got two options. You can leave your shooting irons here and ride west. Don’t come back. Or you can wait in the county jail for the Texas Rangers.”
“We’ll take the first one.”
“Drop them on the ground. Use your fingers nice and easy. I’ll get those Winchesters out of your scabbards. Don’t try nothing.” Colt cocked in his fist, he advanced, using his free hand to draw out the first rifle and toss it aside.
“What you going to do about Taylor?” the mustached one asked.
“Let the Rangers have him for murder. One of our men was shot in the back yesterday.” Slocum knew life was a cheap commodity with the four of them. He felt somewhat comforted, though, as he held the gun on them rather than the other way around.
“Can we mount up?” the man asked.
“Yes. And you better ride hard. This place is fixing to be covered over with Rangers.”
“We’re going, mister.”
They mounted up, and left no doubt they were leaving the country. Slocum watched as Ray and Lopez joined him.
“Taylor’s not here?” Ray asked.
“No,” Slocum said, considering where the man might be.
“Who were they?”
“Hired guns without any guns. They won’t be back. They’re smarter than that.”
“What we going to do with the dead ones?”
“Bury them.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Ray shook his head. Lopez shrugged.
Slocum watched the dust as the hired guns rode away. Someone had to stop Taylor. He wished the law would arrive.
26
He stood five-foot-seven, clean-shaven and ordinary-looking, except for the silver badge on his vest that glinted in the sun. Slocum was not impressed as he studied him. Why, the boy was hardly older than Ray. The Ranger grinned as he struck out his hand.
“You must be Slocum? Captain Spencer sent me up here. I’m Ranger Teddy Rhoric.”
“I called for Rangers.” Slocum squinted in disbelief at him.
“Captain said one problem, one Ranger. That’s all he could spare. Besides, he told me that you’d probably give me a hand.”
Slocum nodded, and realized this was all the relief the captain was sending. “They call you Teddy?”
“Yes, sir, and I understand that you’ve been having some real problems.”
“A few. Who filled you in?”
“The telegraph operator that sent your original message. I stopped by there and talked to him this morning. He said they really worked you over after you sent the telegram. Oh, I’da been here sooner, but I had to serve some warrants on the way.”
“Glad you made it. Come on inside the house and meet the womenfolks,” Slocum said.
“Your wife?” Teddy asked, a little taken back.
“No,” Slocum said. Then he laughed, shook his head, and led the way inside.
“Ranger Teddy Rhoric, meet Sam Cottrel and Angela Morales.”
“My pleasure, ladies,” He swept off his wide-brimmed hat and nodded to both of them.
“He’s the Texas Rangers?” Sam asked, blinking her eyes in confusion. She was a head taller than the young man, and looked at Slocum with bewilderment.
“Yes, ma’am,” Teddy said. “Captain Spencer sent me up here to straighten things out.”
“We’ve been under siege by gunmen. One of my cowhands was shot to death and my horses stolen. My cattle was rustled by more outlaws, and they sent one Ranger?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Yes, ma’am. All that Captain Spencer could spare.”
“I think we should show him some courtesy,” Slocum declared, and pointed to the table. “He just got here. Angela, why don’t you find him a plate of food. Why, I’d bet he’s starved to death. Sam, pour him some coffee. We’ve got lots to tell him. Have a seat, Teddy.”
“Thanks. I guess I do have lots to catch up on.” He straddled a chair and then took his seat. Slocum took his hat and hung it on a peg.
“Sam, you begin,” Slocum said, turning back. “And go slow. Ranger Rhoric has lots to absorb here this afternoon.”
“Thanks. I need to hear it all. I sure appreciate this meal,” Teddy said to Angela as she handed him a plate heaped with food. He nodded to Sam when she filled his coffee cup.
Sam put the pot back on the stove and returned. She began her tale of murders and troubles. Between bites, the lawman nodded that he understood and she should continue. Slocum took a chair at the table and listened, occasionally adding what he knew about Knotts and his involvement with the rustlers. Angela filled in the rest.
At the sound of horses and men returning, Slocum excused himself and went outside. He could see by the dust and excitement that the hands had recovered her remuda and were putting them in the corral.
“Any trouble?” he asked as Ray dismounted.
“None. We found them where I guess Taylor drove them to. They weren’t any problem at all to round up. Whose jaded horse is that?” He motioned to the Ranger’s mount.
“The Ranger.”
“Captain Spencer?”
“Nope. One Ranger. Teddy Rhoric.”
“One Ranger?” Ray asked in disbelief.
“One Ranger.”
“What happe
ns next?”
“Whatever he decides to do.”
“How’s Sam taking it?”
“Like I am. He’s all we’ve got.”
“Can he settle this range war?”
“That’s what Texas pays him for.”
Slocum spoke to Lopez and the others about the Ranger’s presence. After they put up their horses, they filed into the house and quietly took their places around the table as Rhoric listened to the end of Sam’s account.
The Ranger finished his food and nodded, then sipped the coffee as if in deep thought.
“First we have to arrest that crooked sheriff, so we have a place to put prisoners like him.” He motioned toward McCurdy, who’d been brought back inside from the reinforced tackroom.
“I’ll need to have an interim sheriff appointed,” Teddy said. “How about you, Slocum?”
“No. Ray there can do it.”
“You ever done any law enforcement work?” Teddy asked him.
“Trust me, he can handle it,” Slocum replied.
“My captain said Slocum was a man to be trusted. Your name, sir?”
“Ray Ellis.”
“You will be the new sheriff until a proper one can be elected.” Teddy acted satisfied that the matter had been handled. “Besides this Sheriff Knotts, we need to arrest Devereau and Slade, right?”
Sam nodded. Slocum could see that she and Ray had something to discuss, but with everyone there, it didn’t give them much chance.
“Then,” the lawman continued, “we’ll arrest this Dayton Taylor for the murder of your cowhand Reeves?”
“Sounds easy. Where do we start?” Slocum asked.
“At sunup we’ll take over the sheriff’s office and have all his deputies turn in their badges. The authorities can begin the new election process.”
“Sheriff Ellis?” Slocum said. “You ready to take office?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been using my arm a lot the last few days.” He removed it from the sling and flexed it for them. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll bet you can use some sleep,” Slocum said to Teddy.
“I sure could.”
“Go stretch out in the bunkhouse. We’ll get you up in plenty of time. And we’ll be there to back your hand at the jail come sunup.”
