EDGE: Violence Trail (Edge series Book 25)

by George G. Gilman

  Some of the troopers, with guns drawn but aimed at nothing or nobody, expressed as much confusion and shock as was evident on the faces of the officer and non-com.

  Then the ring-leader moderated his tone and filled the sudden silence with words that spread smiles of glee across the tired, unshaven, dirt-grimed faces. He continued to concentrate his gaze and the aim of his gun on Edge, but addressed everyone.

  ‘I’m sick of this cruddin’ army. And I figure I ain’t alone in that. Not after a whole friggin’ year of ridin’ herd on a bunch of stinkin’ Injuns. Not after ridin’ ten lousy days across this stinkin’ country in this cruddin’ heat lookin’ for some shit-head Injuns that took off. And I figure the gold on this cruddin’ wagon is gonna buy me a ticket outta the cruddin’ army. Buy tickets out for all that want ’em.’

  ‘Holy cow, yeah!’ the youngest trooper yelled in high excitement.

  There were nods and shouts of agreement from the rest of the enlisted men. Some more enthusiastic than others. But the minority prepared to go along with the majority.

  That’s mutiny, Fontaine!’ O’Keefe said thickly.

  ‘And desertion!’ Shotter augmented, on a spray of spittle.

  Every trooper had a target for his revolver now. As they were persuaded by the curse-riddled words of Fontaine, each previously uncommitted man leveled his gun. At Pedro, or Ree, or Edge, or the officer and non-com. Thus, as Fontaine turned, swinging his Colt away from the half-breed, the threat of death was still directed at Edge.

  ‘Firin’ squad crimes,’ the scar-faced man growled. ‘Just as soon hang. If I’m caught. For murder.’

  He shot O’Keefe first. Because the pouting-lipped sergeant had a gun in his hand. A neat hole appeared in his chest, left of centre. By the time he had taken a surprised step backwards and started to fall, there was an untidy stain around the puncture. And Lieutenant Shotter was a moment away from dying. His straining tunic was holed lower down. And much more blood from a damaged lung spewed from his mouth than blossomed around the external wound. Much as Sheldon had done, he dropped to his knees and tipped forward.

  Only Senalda Montez screamed. But soft-spoken Mexican words from Isabella quietened the woman.

  The army might not be so bad, if it wasn’t for cruddin’ officers and stinkin’ non-coms,’ Fontaine muttered, as he cocked the Colt, bringing it back to cover Edge. ‘Why I don’t hold it against you for blastin’ that bastard Sheldon. Before he got busted, he was a sergeant. Worst kind.’

  ‘I ain’t in the market for no citations, feller,’ the half-breed said.

  Fontaine showed a thin smile. ‘I ain’t givin’ ’em, mister. Ain’t givin’ nothin’ to nobody. Just lettin’ you people keep your lives. And that not for nothin’. Exchange is no robbery. We take the wagon, your guns and your horses. Sound fair to you?’

  ‘I ain’t in no position to be objectionable, feller.’

  ‘What about the girl, Ned?’ the youngest trooper said, licking his lips.

  ‘Señor—’ Pedro started angrily.

  ‘Shut up!’ Fontaine snarled. Then regarded Edge passively. When he narrowed his eyes, one was more closed than the other. ‘She your girl?’

  ‘It’s a long way to Mexico. And a matter of opinion. Hers.’

  A nod. ‘You did me a favor. All of us a favor. Blastin’ that bastard Sheldon and showing us the gold at the same time. All the metal on the wagon gold?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, feller. And that’s a matter of fact.’

  He shifted his narrow-eyed gaze to Pedro. The boy compressed his lips and, despite the thick bristles on his face, looked like a sullen child.

  ‘We can find out for ourselves,’ Fontaine pointed out. ‘But you won’t be around to see us.’

  ‘All of it that does not carry excessive strain,’ Isabella called from inside the wagon.

  ‘Thanks,’ Fontaine responded and returned his attention to Edge. ‘That’s a lot, mister. Enough to buy all of us lots of women. As well as a lot of friggin’ other frills the cruddin’ army never give us. So you get to keep the girl. Make a man like you less inclined to come after us, I reckon.’

  ‘And I reckon it’d be easier - and safer - to blast all three of them and take the women along.’ This from the youngest trooper.

  Edge eyed him long and hard for the first time. He was a blond, with regular features, blue eyes and a complexion just recovering from acne. When his skin was clear, he would be handsome. He had a slender body and a prominent bulge at the crotch of his pants. Despite the gun in his hand, which he seemed about to swing away from Pedro towards the half-breed, the glittering eyes of Edge sparked fear inside him.

  ‘Shut up, Hardy!’ Fontaine rasped. ‘Deal’s made and I don’t break my word.’ He grinned around at the troopers. ‘Didn’t I tell you guys that one day I’d figure a way outta the cruddin’ army for us?’

  ‘You sure enough did that!’ the elderly veteran agreed. ‘Shall I get the guns off ’em, Ned?’

  ‘Do that, Mason. Then tie ’em up. Women, too. And get the feller outta the wagon. I can smell the stink of him from here. And I figure life for us is gonna be sweet-smelling from here on in.’

  ‘A rose in bloom/Has a perfume that is sweet/But it must fade and wither/And be dead/Its fragrance then/Like all things rotted.’

  ‘He calls it poetry,’ Edge supplied as several of the troopers glanced suspiciously at the intoning Oriental.

  Ned Fontaine blinked. ‘He crazy, or somethin’?’

  ‘Don’t seem a lot or rhyme or reason to him,’ the half-breed allowed as Mason circled around him and pulled the Colt from his holster.

  Other troopers began to help the veteran, disarming Pedro, urging the two women out of the wagon and lifting the unconscious Antonio to the ground. Then a coil of rope from the Montez wagon was cut into lengths and all the civilians except the wounded man were tied, hand and foot. They sat in a group at the side of the trail, and would be many hundred yards from the nearest shade once the wagon had moved.

  ‘The time of my father’s dying is close,’ Isabella said forcefully as the troopers prepared to leave. Fontaine and Hardy were up on the wagon seat. The rest of the men were mounted. Spare horses were hitched to the wagon tailgate. ‘Perhaps you would do us a favor to kill us now. It will take us a long time to die in this wilderness.’

  The regret expressed by many of the red-rimmed eyes fastened on the girl had little to do with her words. For the attention was focused upon her body rather than her face.

  ‘I reckon you can make it until tomorrow, honey,’ Fontaine answered. ‘Stage’ll be by here then. Northbound. We ain’t headin’ north no more, though. Adios amigos.’

  He cracked the whip across the backs of the ox team and kicked off the brake lever.

  ‘Hasta la vista,’ Edge growled against the sound of turning wheel rims and clopping hooves.

  Dust rose and settled on the securely bound living, the raggedly breathing dying and the inert dead.

  Pedro spat. ‘All is lost, hombre. We will never see them or the wagon again.’

  Fontaine cracked the whip harder and yelled to demand more speed from the oxen.

  ‘Creo que si, mi hermano,’ Isabella agreed morosely.

  ‘The situation is indeed very bad,’ Ree added with gentle sadness. ‘It would have been better for me to remain in Amity Falls.’

  Senalda Montez remained silent, merely tilted herself over on to her side, to rest her head close to that of her husband and spill tears as she gazed at his profile.

  ‘Ain’t nothing lost until something’s won,’ Edge said evenly.

  The boy chose to snort this time. ‘We are falling further behind with every moment that passes, hombre!’

  ‘You have a plan in your mind, señor,’ Isabella asked, gazing intently at the half-breed.

  The interest of the Siamese was also aroused.

  ‘Same goal as at the start,’ Edge told her. ‘Still figure to score.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN
>
  ‘SEÑOR, you are no better than those lusting, evil creatures who robbed us and left us here!’ Isabella snapped.

  ‘Worse even, I think!’ her brother snarled. ‘At least they give us a chance to live. You murdered a man without giving him the opportunity to draw against you. You have no code of honor, hombre.’

  Edge continued to direct his narrow-eyed gaze along the trail. The wagon and riders were out of sight now, beyond the curved arm of a bluff. But they would come into view again and be lost several times before they were out of the valley. Thus, the troopers would have equal opportunities to look back and see the apparently helpless group of prisoners they had abandoned.

  ‘Si!’ the girl exclaimed bitterly. ‘To have my reputation defended by such a cold-blooded act of killing does not impress me.’ She shook her head violently from side to side, agreeing with herself. The anger and confusion visible through her swinging black hair gave her face a new kind of beauty. ‘And those men - those soldiers. Would they have stood idly by while other white men were being massacred by Indians? As you did.’

  ‘You are a coward, hombre,’ Pedro returned to the attack with more venom than before in his tone. ‘What happened to your big talk of pointing guns when the soldiers were here? I did not hear any such warning!’

  ‘I feel you malign Mr. Edge,’ Ree said gently when the half-breed failed to respond to the verbal assaults with a glance or even a slight alteration in the impassive set of his features. ‘Honor is a fine word to relish in security and safety. When deadly danger threatens, to consider an honorable solution is foolish in the extreme.’

  ‘If he feels thus, why did he consider my honor?’ Isabella demanded, her anger unabated. ‘Well, Señor Edge?’

  ‘That’s about it lady,’ the half-breed growled. ‘I’m fussy about whose dipper goes into it before mine.’

  Pedro was about to spit, but choked on the saliva. ‘Hombre, one of us will surely kill the other!’ he croaked.

  ‘As for the posse from Amity Falls,’ Ree went on, as calmly as before, ‘would those men have assisted us if it were we who suffered an Indian attack? Perhaps. But only to hang us.’

  The girl spared a portion of her scowling disgust for the Siamese with the gentle eyes. ‘If you have so little regard for human life, you and Edge are two of a kind, señor!’

  ‘Make that three while your Pa stays alive, Isabella,’ Edge corrected, just a trace of a rasp in his voice. ‘Or maybe even six. Maybe that’s why I let things be last night. Hadn’t been for some of those Shoshonis’ buddies I’d be deader than—’

  ‘It is a matter of degree!’ the girl cut in. Her voice was harsh and her dark eyes gleamed with rage. But then her mood moderated as she turned her head to stare after the departing wagon, which was in sight again. ‘San Parral is a poor village in the barren land of the Sierra Madre. My father was blacksmith and mayor of the village. He is a fine man who feels deeply for the people in their poverty. We come to the United States. We do this not to escape but to seek wealth to bring back to the people of San Parral. Two other families do this with us. Men who, like my father, do not work in the arid fields and can be spared.’

  The wagon and riders, comprising a mere indistinct blur in the distance now, went from sight around a mesa. But the girl continued to stare in the same direction.

  ‘For three years we scratched and clawed among the cold mountains of Montana. We found gold. In tiny amounts. But we stored it carefully, using little for our own daily needs.’

  Large tears ballooned at the corners of her eyes and ran fast down her cheeks.

  ‘When father said it was time to take what we had and return to San Parral, the other families would not leave. One man, Jose Lajous who owned the cantina at San Parral, attempted to steal our gold. My father was forced to kill him.’

  ‘It was a fair fight, hombre,’ Pedro interjected.

  Edge glanced at Antonio Montez, who no longer looked big and powerful. Just very old, very gray and very weak. ‘Every man gets lucky sometimes, kid,’ he muttered.

  ‘My father knew the journey to our home village would be long and arduous,’ the girl went on, as if there had been no interruptions. ‘And that it would be even more dangerous if we carried the gold openly. So he forged it into shapes that could be painted and fitted to the wagon.’

  She sighed and her eyes, as they swung towards Edge again, seemed to be transmitting a plea for understanding. ‘Those others from San Parral, who were seeking gold in Montana for selfish reasons, they saw this. And they had much hatred for us, because Jose Lajous had been killed. When you approached us, señor, looking much like a Mexican. Looking much—’ She shrugged. ‘We thought the worst. Si, had you died then, your death would have been a dishonor for us. But our motive was to safeguard the gold. Not to keep for ourselves. But to bring hope to the villagers of San Parral. A matter of degree. We resort to violence with abhorrence but for a high ideal. You appear to relish it, killing merely for the sake of ingratiating yourself with me. In vain, señor. For I come only to despise you even more.’

  Now she stared down at her own feet, which were lashed securely together at the ankles.

  Her mother struggled up into a sitting posture again and shook her head as she looked morosely at Edge. ‘I think not, Isabella,’ she said dully. ‘A man such as this, if he wanted a woman. He would take her. I think he wants something else. Perhaps he did not know what it was until the bullet revealed the gold.’

  ‘Si!’ Pedro exclaimed, emerging from a period of pensive detachment while his eyes had constantly raked the slumped corpses of the three soldiers. ‘I think that is right. You are - what is the American word - an opportunist. Si.’ He snorted. ‘But it is useless for you to stare so intently towards the wagon, hombre. The gold it carries is as lost to you as to us.’

  The ancient Studebaker and its escort of deserting troopers could no longer be seen against the line of ridges blocking the southern end of the valley.

  ‘You feel as bad about me as the others, feller?’ Edge asked Ree.

  ‘Judge not a man until/By deed or word he reveals/His nature—’

  ‘Guess you’re trying to tell me no, uh?’ the half-breed interrupted.

  ‘Does it matter, sir?’ He glanced around him. ‘In the present circumstances?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a matter of life or death. Mine. Whether you’ll cut my throat or the ropes holding my wrists together.’

  Senalda Montez and her two children stared at Edge in bewilderment. Which deepened as a broad grin spread across the gentle face of the Siamese.

  ‘Your razor!’ Ree exclaimed.

  The older woman remained confused. But Pedro had seen Edge’s attack on the bartender in Amity Falls. And Isabella had seen the half-breed return the razor to the pouch after shaving with it that morning.

  ‘It’s sharper than you folks,’ Edge muttered as the boy and the girl came close to smiling. ‘So go easy with it, feller.’

  ‘You need me, sir,’ the Siamese said, going over on to his side, then folding his knees and struggling upright. The exertion left him breathless. ‘But when we are free, we will all need you. For your resourcefulness.’

  He had to move in short, awkward jumps, then turned to put his back to the seated half-breed. He crouched, pushing his tied hands out behind him, fingers delving into Edge’s black hair and probing over the shirt collar to grip the razor. He straightened to draw it from the neck pouch, then lowered himself to the ground again. And began to saw at the ropes binding Edge’s wrists.

  ‘Easy, feller,’ the half-breed reminded. ‘Or I could lose a lot of my resources through a main artery.’

  Ree muttered a word of apology in his own language and slowed his frenetic action with the blade. But it took only moments for the razor to cut through the rope. Then Edge cut through the bonds at his ankles, freed Ree and gave him the blade to attend to Senalda, Isabella and Pedro.

  He went to the body of Lieutenant Shotter, waved a hand at the flies ma
ssed on the congealed blood of the wound, and took the field glasses from around the neck of the corpse.

  Through their lenses, the distant line of ridges leapt closer. Nothing could be seen moving among the low peaks.

  ‘Sir,’ Ree said.

  Edge lowered the field glasses and accepted the razor, pushing it back into the pouch.

  The Siamese was inscrutably patient. Senalda was crouched beside her husband. Isabella and Pedro massaged their wrists and eyed their parents helplessly.

  ‘The wagon is no longer to be seen, hombre,’ Pedro said at length.

  ‘They got my horse, gear and guns, kid.’

  Isabella suddenly wrung her hands. ‘There has been enough talk of motives! But we can do nothing to achieve our aims while my father lives.’

  Senalda shrieked and threw herself across Antonio, as if fearful someone was about to speed his inevitable end.

  Pedro draped an arm briefly across the shoulders of his sister. Then stood apart and erect from her. ‘We can carry him!’ He pointed towards Ree. ‘You. We rescued you from Amity Falls and you have been useless to us until now. You will help me carry him.’

  ‘To move him will kill him!’ Senalda moaned.

  Isabella nodded. ‘Si, mi madre. But if father could speak, he would tell us to leave him. That to get the gold to San Parral is the most important thing. More important than his life. He cannot speak. So we must do what we think is best.’

  ‘Celestial?’ Pedro demanded, crossing to stoop at the head of his father as Isabella pulled her mother away.

  ‘For as long as I can,’ Ree said, moving to take the ankles of Antonio.

  ‘As long as it is necessary,’ Pedro corrected.

  Through the furnace heat of morning, midday and afternoon the group walked the length of the valley and up towards the ridges. There was no talk. Not even when Pedro Montez - at least half the age of Mr. Ree - staggered and fell, and Edge draped the heavy form of the senseless Antonio over his shoulders. To spell both the other men for more than half a mile.