There's Always a Trail (1984)

by L'amour, Louis

  A half-block up the street Gan Carrero, gun in hand , was surveying the street.

  "Hsst!" Hack hissed.

  The livery man turned his head sharply toward th e sound. "Get that saddled buckskin out, pronto! Just tur n him loose!"

  The man ducked inside, and Sonora heard somebod y blundering through the brush behind the building wher e he stood. Stepping into the street, he whistled shrilly fo r his horse.

  Carrero wheeled and his gun came up, and Sonor a fired. The outlaw stepped back. Sonora fired again, an d Carrero fell to his face as the buckskin lunged from th e stable, stirrups flopping.

  Sonora hit the saddle on the fly, and the buckskin lef t town on a dead run. A bullet whistled by; another smacke d viciously into some obstruction on his right. The buckski n was out and running now, and how that buckskin loved it!

  Yet this was but the beginning; swinging into an open i ng under some cottonwoods, he began to circle back.

  What had become of Ann'? They would want their mone y back, and they would want Ann dead, for she now knew o f their guilt.

  He walked the horse through the cottonwoods and u p the slope toward a cut into the country beyond. Th e chaparral was thick, but there were plenty of openings , and he wove his way through. When he reached the cu t he looked back. The lights of the town were plain, but h e could see nothing else. Pursuit would be out there in th e darkness, three deadly men and a woman, armed an d prepared to kill.

  Where boas Ann? Scowling into the night, he tried t o imagine what she would do, and how she would return t o Pagosa. She knew the country much better than he fo r this was her home. Certainly, she would not keep to th e trail, and if she had been shrewd enough to follow him sh e would be shrewd enough to think out an escape.

  Yet behind her would be Buck Rodd, Shorty Hazel, an d Wing Mathy. They would follow her, not him. She no t only had the money, but her word could hang them.

  Skirting. a blur ; Hack rode down through a clump o f Joshua trees where the cut was narrow. Due to the dip i n the ground he would probably be unseen, so, dismount i ng, he knelt close to the earth and struck a match. He found no recent tracks.

  Mounting, he started on through the cut. She shoul d have a good start. His gunfight had delayed pursuit enoug h to give her a couple of miles start, which she could use t o advantage. Her horse was probably a good one, and sh e would keep moving. Yet, her horse had been ridden th e twenty miles from Pagosa, and perhaps the distance fro m her ranch to town.

  Her pursuers would be on fresh horses, and woul d know the country as well as she.

  The trail dipped and followed the bank of a small stream , which must be the same that flowed near Pagosa, and if s o might offer an easy approach to the town. He again checke d the trail for tracks.

  Hoof prints! A horse had passed this way, perhaps withi n the last few minutes, for even as the match flared he saw a tiny bit of sand fall into one of the tracks.

  A red-hot iron seemed to slash across his arm and , dropping the match, he dove off ' the trail, hearing a har d spang of a high -powered rifle.

  He swung into the saddle, feeling the warm wetness o f blood on his arm; yet he did not seem to have been badl y hit, because his fingers were still working. Turning off th e trail, he wove through the brush, keeping under cover.

  Pulling up for a moment, he felt carefully with the finger s of his other hand. The skin was only broken. With hi s bandana he made a crude bandage to stop the flow o f blood, which was slight in any case.

  He was through in this country. Ann would escape now , and would return to tell them what she had heard. Sh e would also tell them he was Sonora-Hack; and they woul d discover he had only recently been freed from prison. Hi s chance of settling down in Pagosa and making a place fo r himself would be finished. Well, it had been a wild idea a t best.

  Remembering the conversation, he felt himself flushin g to think that she would believe he was that kind of man.

  That he would plot with such a woman the cold-bloode d murder of her confederates.

  In sullen despair he told himself to keep on riding. He was finished here.

  As if impelled by the thought, the buckskin starte d walking up the long roll of the pinon-tufted mountainside , and Sonora let him go. The buckskin quickened its pac e and Hack, from old habit, slid his gun from its holster an d removed the shells fired back at Hondo, then reloaded th e pistol.

  The buckskin, he realized, had found a trail, and now , of its own volition, was traveling et an easy canter.

  Buck Rodd would not give up easily. That was mor e money than he was apt to see in a long time, and even i f he had so wished, Maria would not permit it. He woul d follow Ann back to her ranch or to Pagosa.

  Who in Pagosa could stand against him' Or the thre e together'?

  At this hour, there would be no one. Alerted, the y might get men together to greet them, but now ther e would be no time for that. All three were men wit h notches on their guns, men willing and ready to kill.

  That was their problem. He had made his bid an d messed up. He should never have tried to get the mone y from Maria, yet he had been so close!

  Killing had been no part of his plan. He had hoped t o get the money back, leave Maria tied up, and return t o Pagosa.

  Remembering Ann's flashing eyes and vitriolic tongue , he grinned despite himself. She was a terror, that one.

  The man who got her would have his work cut out fo r him.

  The thought of her belonging to some other man was a burr under the saddle-blanket of his thoughts. And he di d not like to ride away leaving her with the opinion of hi m she now had. It would be an ugly picture.

  With neither conscience nor the memories of a red h aired girl to afflict him, the buckskin cantered briskl y along the trail, making good time. Hack rode along wit h the unconscious ease of a man long accustomed to th e saddle, deep in his own thoughts. It was not until ther e was a sudden flash of light in the corner of his eyes that h e came to with a start.

  He was on the edge of Pagosa! The buckskin had ver y naturally headed for the stable where he had been takin g it easy these past few days.

  Realization hit him with a rush of horses' hoofs, and h e saw three horsemen come charging up to a fourth. A gir l screamed and a man opened the door of a house. A rifl e shot rang out, and a harsh voice ordered, "Get back i n there or I'll kill you ! This is none of your affair!"

  Another voice said, Get the sack, Shorty.

  What about the girl? Do we take her along> "Hell, no! She'd be nothing but trouble. We'll fin d plenty of women below the border! We'll just leave he r lay, to teach them a lesson!"

  The buckskin felt the unexpected stab of the spurs an d hit the trail running.

  "Hey!" a voice yelled. "Look out!"

  A gun roared almost in his face, a black body loome d before him, and he fired. A lance of flame leaped at hi m and he was in the midst of a wild tangle of plunging horse s and shouting, swearing men. He caught a glimpse of Ann , hat gone, hair flying in the wind, breaking from the crow d and leaping her horse for the shelter of the buildings.

  A head loomed near him and he slashed at it with hi s six-gun, seeing the man fall; then his horse swung around , and he was knocked from his horse but hit the groun d staggering.

  A big man rushed at him and he had just time to stead y himself. He . Threw a hard punch into a corded belly , ripped up and uppercut, and then, from behind him a s the man staggered, he heard somebody yell, "Look out , Rodd! Let me have him!"

  Hack let go everything and hit the dirt just as a gu n roared behind him.

  Rodd grunted, gasped and then yelled. "You fool! Yo u bloody fool! You've hit me! You've killed -!"

  Shorty Hazel's voice shouted. "To Hell with it, Wing!

  Grab the bag and let's go!"

  Hack rolled over and came to his knee shooting. Some t hing hit him below the knee and he rolled over, comin g up against the body of a man, who might be alive or dead.

  Something grated
on gravel and the man lunged to hi s feet, sack in hand, and sprang for the nearest horse.

  He steadied himself, leaning on one elbow, and fired.

  The man dropped the sack and turned.

  Fire stabbed the darkness, and the body of the ma n beside him jerked slightly . Sonora Hack was holding hi s left hand gun and he fired in return. The other ma n turned, fell against his horse, then swung into the saddle.

  Hack lifted his gun, then saw the sack lying in the road.

  "The Devil with it! Let him go!"

  He tried to get to his feet, but one leg wouldn't functio n right. He crawled to the sack, felt the rustle of bills an d the chink of gold coins. He got a grip on the sack an d whistled.

  The buckskin trotted to him and stood patiently whil e he caught hold of a stirrup and pulled himself up, the n climbed into the saddle. He started the horse to th e nearest house, gripping the sack in his right hand.

  He shouted and the door opened, then other door s began to open, lamps were lighted, and people emerged.

  One of them was Ann. He thrust the sack at her. Tryi n all the time. I was try --"

  He felt himself falling, felt her hands catch him, the n somebody else's hands. "He's passed out," somebody wa s saying. "He's --"

  Something smelled like rain, rain and roses and coffe e and other smells he could not place. Then he opened hi s eyes and he could hear the rain falling, and he stared out a curtained window at a pinon-clad hill beyond. Turning hi s head he saw his boots, wiped cleaner than they had bee n in months, and his gunbelt hanging near them, over th e back of a chair. His clothes were folded neatly on th e chair, and there was another chair, a rocking chair with a book lying face down on the seat.

  The door opened and Ann Bailey came in. She wa s wearing an apron, and when her eyes met his, she smiled.

  'You're actually awake!, You're not delirious!"

  "What do you mean... delirious? Where am IP What's happened?"

  "You're at home, on our ranch, and you were delirious.

  You talked," she blushed faintly, "an awful lot. You kille d all those men."

  "Not Rodd nor Hazel. Mathy killed Rodd by mistake.

  Hazel got away."

  "He didn't get far. He fell ok his horse about a mil e down the road, and died before anyone found him."

  "You got your money'?"

  "Of course." She looked down at him. "Half of thi s ranch is yours now."

  "I won't take it. That isn't right."

  "It is right. That was the deal, and we intend to stan d by it. Anyway, Dad needs help. He's needed somebod y who can handle cattle. He can't do it all himself. You ge t some rest now, and we can talk of that later."

  "What's that I smell?"

  "I'm making some doughnuts. ''

  "All right. I'll stay. I always did like doughnuts!"

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  'THE CARLISLE-KING FIGHT

  When the wild towns of the Old West are listed it i s always Abilene, Dodge City, Deadwood and Tombston e that are mentioned, and rarely Los Angeles.

  Yet California in its early years was second only to Texa s in the number of cattle roaming its thousands of hills, an d the vaqueros who handled those cattle numbered amon g them some of the finest riders and ropers the country wa s to see.

  The most noted gun battle of Los Angeles's early year s took place on July 6, 1865, when Bob Carlisle shot it ou t with the King brothers at the old Bella Union Hotel.

  On the afternoon of the previous day Carlisle had word s with Under-Sheriff A. J. King over the investigation of th e murder of John Rains, Carlisle's brother-in-law. The dis c ussion ended with Carlisle using a Bowie knife on King , and during the argument he was supposed to have sai d that he could kill all the Kings.

  Carlisle was a big, strikingly handsome man who ha d proved both his nerve and his skill with weapons on mor e than one occasion. As the son-in-law of Col. Isaac William s and owner of the Chino Ranch of some 46,000 acres, h e was a prominent citizen.

  On the day following the di ff iculty between Carlisle an d A. J. King, and just as the stage pulled up before the Bell a Union, Frank and Houston King, brothers of A. J., wer e passing by and glimpsed Bob Carlisle through the ope n B00K.

  Carlisle apparently saw them at the same time, and on e of the Kings said, "There's Carlisle now. Let's go see if h e means it."

  As the King brothers approached the door, firing began.

  Carlisle's first bullet killed Frank King, but Houston Kin g emptied his gun into Carlisle, putting four bullets withi n four inches of Carlisle's navel. Carlisle went down, the n started to get up, and Houston rushed him, breaking hi s now empty pistol over Carlisle's head.

  Pushing himself up against the wall, Carlisle gripped hi s six-shooter with both hands and shot Houston King throug h the body. Carried to a billiard table, Bob Carlisle died a short time later. Houston King survived the shooting an d was tried for killing Carlisle, but acquitted.

  Harris Newmark, a prominent citizen, came on th e scene as the shooting ended, and has told the story in hi s memoirs, as has Frank King, former cowley and write r who was the son of Houston King. There are several othe r accounts.