Smoky aimed at the other gunman's beltline and fired. His bullet caught the outlaw just above the belt buckle, plowing deep into his guts. The man clawed desperately at his bullet-torn belly, staggered, and fell alongside his partner.
Several men burst from the back of the house spraying a wall of fire to keep Blawcyzk's men pinned down. Cox crouched in their midst as they dashed for the barn. Forced into cover by the hail of lead, the lawmen were unable to stop them. The renegades made the stable. Three of them stopped at the door and kept up a steady fire while the rest disappeared inside. Moments later, Cox and the others burst from the stable, spurring their horses into a dead run.
Two of the three men who'd covered Cox's escape also made their horses and galloped after the others. The third died when Smoky put a bullet into his back. He fell on his face in the stable doorway.
Seeing Cox escaping, and many of their number dead or wounded, the remainder of the Circle Bar C men decided they wanted no more of the fight. A white rag tied to a rifle barrel was poked from the bunkhouse door.
"We've had enough. We're surrenderin'," a shaky voice called.
"Toss out your guns and come out with your hands in the air," Jim ordered.
He hurried up to where his men waited, covering the ranch hands while they emerged from the bunkhouse. "You boys all right?" he asked.
In addition to Price's punctured arm, Jordan had blood from a bullet graze trickling down his left cheek.
"We're fine," Price answered.
"Price, I'm leavin' you and Dawson in charge of these prisoners. We can sort everything out later. Rest of us are goin' after Cox."
"Wait a minute. What about you, Jim?" McCue questioned, looking at the blood-soaked side of Blawcyzk's shirt. "Appears like you're bleedin' pretty heavy."
"I'm all right."
Blawcyzk pulled the bandanna from his neck and stuffed it inside his shirt in an effort to staunch the flow of blood.
"I'll get our horses."
Blawcyzk whistled, and Sizzle trotted up to him, nuzzling his face.
"How bad you hurt, bud?" Jim asked. He ran a gentle hand over the bullet wound on the paint's flank, finding to his relief it was merely a shallow gash. Already the blood coating it was half dried. "You'll be all right, Siz. I'll get to that cut soon as I can."
Jim swung into the saddle and rounded up the Rangers' scattered horses. Sizzle herded them back to their waiting riders. The men grabbed the horses' trailing reins and leapt onto their backs.
"Those renegades headed north," said Huggins. "Looks like they're aimin' for old Fort Boggy. We'll have a devil of a time roustin' 'em out of there if they make it."
"What's Fort Boggy?" Blawcyzk asked.
"The site of an early Ranger encampment, back in the forties," Huggins explained. "Indians also used the spot for a campground. It's kind of hilly, especially for this part of Texas, and there's also a lot of bottomlands and swamp. Plenty of places for those renegades to hole up and ambush us. Lots of game in there, some of it almost as ornery as the men we're chasin'. Gators and javelinas, and plenty of cottonmouths too. Probably the worst are the wild boars. You sure don't want to face one of them if he's riled. Which they are all of the time."
"How far to there?" Jim asked.
"Six miles, more or less," Huggins answered. "I figure those boys have a mile or two head start on us. It's gonna be close."
"We'll make it," Jim shot back. He dug bootheels into Sizzle's flanks, sending the big paint leaping forward. The others followed close behind.
Shortly, Huggins called a halt. Their horses stood, blowing. "That's old Fort Boggy just ahead, Jim," he said. "Their tracks lead right in there. Hoofprints of ten horses, I'd say, so that means we're facin' ten men, probably includin' Sliney and Scott. They could be hidin' in any of a hundred or more spots."
"They might've split up, too," Malinak added.
"How do you want to handle it, Lieutenant?" McCue asked.
"You know the place better'n any of us, Jim. How would you manage it?" Jim asked Huggins.
"They won't be able to hide their trail. Too much soft ground and mud," Huggins answered. "I'd say we should just follow the prints. If they split up then we can split up. But we'll have to be mighty careful. The brush is so thick in places a man could be two feet from you and you'd never see him. Only way you'd find out he's there was when his bullet hit you."
"Sure wish Sam was under me," Jim said sighing. "He'd smell out any of 'em holed up like that. I'm not sure Siz will. Well, let's get after those hombres. Like Jim said, slow and careful. Once we get an idea where they might be at we'll go in on foot. Jim, you take the lead."
Huggins urged his chestnut gelding Dusty to the head of the column. Single file, the men headed into the nearly impenetrable maze of swamps, bottomlands, and thickets that marked old Fort Boggy.
Twenty minutes later, Huggins raised his hand. "We'd better dismount," he said. "I've got a pretty good idea where we'll find 'em. There's a good sized hollow about a quarter mile ahead. There's only a couple trails into it. It's got an abandoned settler's dogtrot cabin in the center. When I was a kid, my buddies and I used that shack for a fort while we played at fightin' Comanche or Mexicans. The brush around it is well nigh impossible to penetrate, except for those two trails. And most places you can't see a foot into that scrub. I'd wager those renegades are burrowed down in there, just waitin' for us to ride up so they can blast us from our saddles before we even know what hit us. They've probably realized they can't outrun us, so they've set up a nice little bushwhackin'. In fact, if I were the lieutenant, I'd bet my hat on it. But we're gonna turn the tables."
"How so?" McCue asked.
"I've hunted all through here since I was a kid," Huggins answered. "I know every inch of that hollow, and the thickets surroundin' it. There's a couple of rabbit paths where we can belly through the brush. There's also some big cypress trees along the stream in that hollow we can use for cover. We'll surprise them with a bushwhackin' of our own. But we'll have to go the rest of the way on foot."
"You're still in charge, Jim," Blawcyzk told him.
The horses were tied, Winchesters pulled from saddle scabbards, pockets stuffed with extra shells. Spurs were removed, any other item the men wore or carried that might clink or otherwise make noise discarded.
"Let's go," Huggins ordered.
Before they reached the hollow's perimeter, Huggins led them onto a dim, almost invisible deer track. Five minutes later, at the edge of a tangle of brush and blackberry brambles, he called a halt.
"Okay, here's where we split up," he whispered. "Frank and I'll head left. We'll reach one trail to the hollow in about three minutes. Jim, you and Smoke go right at that dead cottonwood. A bit beyond that you'll see a small opening in the brush, down low. You'll have to get down and crawl on your bellies for a couple hundred feet, but that rabbit path will get you to the hollow."
Huggins hesitated, looking at Jim's blood-soaked side. The lieutenant's breathing was harsh, his face pale. "Jim, can you make it all right?" he asked.
"I'll make it. It's just a flesh wound."
"What's the situation when we get there?" McCue asked.
"I'm figurin' they'll have left a few men in the brush. The others will be holed up in that run-down cabin. They'll be thinking we'll be easy targets, but they'll be in for a surprise when we sneak up on 'em through the brush. It'll be tough, but we'll flush 'em outta there."
"What about the ones in the brush?"
"Hopefully, Smoke, once we open up on the men in the cabin the ones in the thickets will start shootin' back at us, which will give their positions away. Once that happens it'll be a simple matter of us pluggin' them before they plug us."
"Unless they spot us first," Malinak pointed out.
"That's a distinct possibility," Huggins agreed. "Just be real careful, and if you should happen on one of 'em make sure you get him before he can shout out a warning. Any other questions?"
Silence.
"Good, we'll start in now. In ten minutes we should all be in place. Once you hear my first shot just pour it on 'em hot and heavy. We're outnumbered, so I don't have to tell you make every shot count. Time to move."
Huggins and Malinak disappeared into the thick undergrowth. Jim and Smoky found the path Huggins had indicated, then dropped to their stomachs. Pushing their Winchesters ahead of them, they began the laborious crawl toward the hollow.
Arching boughs slapped at the Rangers, stinging their faces, and thorny branches clawed at their clothes and tore their skin. The soft, muddy ground soaked the front of their garments, while the hot, humid air drained their strength. By the time they reached the hollow's edge, they were filthy, bloodied, and drenched with sweat.
"There's the cabin," Jim whispered when the abandoned structure came into view just beyond the scrub.
"Seems like it's occupied, too," Smoky answered. "There's horses tied out back, and I glimpsed some movement in the doorway.
"I'll head east about a hundred feet, Smoke," Jim said. "Then all we have to do is wait for Jim's signal."
He wriggled into the underbrush, soon out of Smoky's sight. Finding a slight gap in the bushes which allowed a good view of the cabin and its surroundings, Jim settled down to wait. He pulled out his Colt and laid it within easy reach, while holding his Winchester at the ready.
The heat was almost unbearable. Flies and mosquitoes tormented Jim, drawn to him by the blood soaking his shirt. Sweat rolled off his forehead and into his eyes. Several times he had to wipe them to clear his vision. When a thud, followed by a low grunt, came from Smoky's direction, Jim jerked up his head in surprise.
"Smoky. Smoke!"
There was no response.
"Smoke!" Jim called once more.
Again, only deafening silence.
Jim started back to find what had happened to his partner when a puff of dust appeared in front of the outlaws' horses, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle echoing across the hollow. Several more shots followed in quick succession, the bullets striking the ground around the horses' hooves. Terrified by the shots and the bullets ricocheting under them, the panicked animals pulled away from their picket line and galloped off.
Shouted curses emanated from the cabin as the outlaws realized they had just lost their means of escape. Their gunshots converged on the spot in the brush where the hidden gunman had opened fire. However, Jim Huggins had already rolled to a different location.
Two of Cox's men dashed from the cabin and chased after the fleeing mounts, only to be cut down by Ranger lead. Haney Scott ran into the dogtrot between the two rooms of the cabin, going to his knees and aiming at where he'd seen a puff of powder smoke from Huggins' Winchester. Jim drew a bead on Scott and fired, his bullet slamming into the gunslinger's chest and driving him backwards. Scott went down hard.
Several gunmen opened up from the brush, firing at the smoke from the Ranger guns. Like the Rangers, these experienced fighters rolled or crawled to a new position every time they fired a shot.
The lawmen concentrated their fire on the cabin, only taking a shot at the men in the brush when fairly confident of making a hit. Malinak fired immediately to the left of where he'd seen a puff of smoke. His bullet found its mark. The hidden gunman screeched in agony, then stumbled out of the brush, doubled over clutching his stomach. He staggered for a few steps, dropped to his hands and knees to crawl several feet, then fell on his face. He twitched once, and lay unmoving.
Jim rolled onto his back at the sudden rustling of brush behind him. A pasty-faced outlaw dove from the bushes, a long-bladed knife in his hand. Jim triggered his Peacemaker, the .45 slug tearing into the man's stomach, ripping through him and coming out his back. He collapsed on top of the Ranger, the blade of his knife tearing Jim's shirt along his short ribs before being driven into the ground. Jim shoved the dying gunman off him.
The fight raged on, the outlaws unable to get a clear shot at the bushed-up Rangers, the lawmen blazing away without much effect at the men in the run-down dogtrot cabin,
Smoky did put a bullet through one gunman's side. The desperado's rifle spilled from his hands. He slumped over the windowsill. Another gunman took his place, firing back at McCue. His bullet clipped Smoky's shoulder, but he was clearly framed in the window as he fired. Jim Huggins shot him in the chest.
'I've gotta try and draw 'em outta there," Jim muttered. He emptied his pockets of rifle shells to reload his Winchester. That done, he rose to his feet and zigzagged across the open ground between the brash and the cabin, firing as rapidly as he could work the lever of his rifle. His partners covered him with an equally rapid fire.
Just when Jim reached the bank of the creek a shot cracked from the brush. He screeched in agony, grabbed his chest, and tumbled down the bank to lay face-down and motionless in the shallow, murky water.
Jim Huggins shouted from the brash.
"Frank! Smoky! They just downed Jim! It's time to end this one way or the other. We're gonna charge those sons of Satan. Now!"
Huggins jumped from his cover, McCue and Malinak doing likewise. Running bent low, rifles blazing, they raced for the shelter of the huge cypresses lining the stream.
Carrying a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun, Bud Sliney dove from a window, rolled to his knees, and took aim at Malinak. Just before Sliney pulled one trigger of the Greener, Jim rose from the creek, thumbed back the hammer of his Peacemaker, and fired. Sliney's aim was ruined, and the load of buckshot peppered the air over Malinak's head when Jim's shot ripped into the gunman's groin. Sliney screamed, throwing aside the shotgun. He grabbed his bullet-torn crotch and went to his knees. Jim dove for the shotgun, grabbed it, and pulled the trigger, sending the second load of buckshot into Sliney's chest. Heart and lungs torn apart by the close-bunched shot, Sliney was slammed to the dirt.
The others had now reached the shelter of the cypresses. They poured a withering fire into the cabin.
Unable to get a good shot at the lawmen, the remaining gunman in the brush emerged from cover for a clear shot at Frank Malinak's back. Malinak grunted and arched backwards from the impact of the bullet striking him low in the back. He toppled against a cypress, slid down its trunk and spun to his belly. McCue spotted the renegade and shot just as he pulled the trigger. The gunman died with Smoky's bullet in his chest
One more of the outlaws died when he poked his head over a windowsill and Huggins put a bullet into his brain.
"Hold your fire a minute," Jim ordered. He called to the cabin's occupants. "Justin Cox! And whoever's still standin' in there. We've got you surrounded. You've got one chance to give yourselves up. Ten seconds to make up your minds before we blast you to ribbons."
"All right. You win," Cox called back. "There's three of us in here. We're comin' out. Don't shoot."
"Toss out your guns, then come out with your hands in the air," Jim commanded.
Three men, Cox in the lead, tossed out their guns and emerged from the dogtrot. Still alert, Blawcyzk and McCue started toward them. Suddenly Malinak's Colt roared from where he had fallen, and one last man staggered from behind the cabin, hands clamped to his middle. Malinak pulled himself to his feet, stalked over to the man, and kicked his six-gun out of reach.
"I figured there was one more waitin' to pull a stunt like that," he said.
"Frank! I reckoned you were done for too. I saw that bullet take you in the back," Huggins exclaimed.
"Nah. Just knocked the wind outta me." He twisted his gunbelt around to show where the thick leather had stopped the bullet intended for his spine.
"But what about you, lieutenant?" he asked Jim. "We thought you were done for when you went down."
"Just an act," Jim answered. "And landin' in that creek made it look even more real. And speakin' of dead, Smoke, I wasn't sure if you'd gotten it just before the shootin' started. Sure sounded like someone did."
"Someone did, but it wasn't me," Smoky answered. "He's sleepin' real peaceful-like right now. I'll pi
ck him up once these hombres are settled."
"Let's tie 'em up." said Jim. "We'll leave 'em until we get the bodies of the rest picked up and loaded on their horses. Then we'll swing by the Circle Bar C, pick up the rest, and head back to Centerville. Cox, this is the end for you. You're facin' a long time in prison, maybe the rest of your life."
"You might think you've won, but you haven't," Cox sneered. "I've got plenty of influence in Austin. I'll make bond within a week. And I won't ever be indicted, let alone tried and convicted."
From behind Jim, Smoky McCue's Colt roared, twice. Cox stood dumbfounded, an expression of complete disbelief on his face. Blood blossomed scarlet on his shirtfront. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he choked on the blood welling from it. He slowly buckled to his knees. A knife slipped from his sleeve, then fell from his hand. Cox's eyes glazed, and he toppled to his face.
"And you said you'd kill me if I shot Cox down, Smoke," Jim said amazed by what had just happened.
Smoky walked over to Cox and picked up the knife.
"And I would've, since that would have been cold-blooded murder. But I reckon he was figurin' on sinking this in your guts, Jim. So I had to shoot him."
"It doesn't matter. Cox was done even if he did get off. His reputation would be ruined no matter what," Huggins said holstering his six-gun. "Saves the state the cost of a trial this way. Now let's finish up here and get back to town. And once we do, you're headed for the doc's, Jim, to get that slug dug outta you. And don't argue with me," he added, before Blawcyzk could object.
"I won't," Jim promised. "Long as I can make one stop first, at the telegraph office. I've got to send wires to headquarters and San Leanna. By now, with the grace of the Good Lord, Julia and Charlie should be home. I need to know that, and to let them know I'm coming home."
"That's a deal," Huggins agreed.
"We'll take care of things here, Jim," Malinak added. "You just take it easy."
"In a minute."
Jim whistled. An answering whinny sounded and a moment later Sizzle, reins trailing, emerged from the brush. He trotted up to Jim, nuzzled his face, then nudged Jim's hip pocket.
Ranger's Revenge (Texas Ranger Jim Blawcyzk Book 7) Page 17
