“Uh-oh,” Joel exclaimed softly, realizing they would soon ride out of range. “The one on the right,” he said, picking his target, and opened fire.
Boone didn’t hesitate. He sighted on the rider next to that one and pulled the trigger. The rider on the right tumbled from the saddle as Joel immediately brought the carbine around to fire at the remaining target. Boone continued to throw lead at his initial target, who remained in the saddle, although he had slumped over onto his horse’s neck.
Taken totally by surprise, the two rustlers remaining in the saddle fled the meadow, leaving their fallen comrade behind and making no motions toward defending themselves. Joel and Boone scrambled out of their ambush and ran down the meadow trying to get a couple more shots, but the raiders were obviously through for the night. The horse with the empty saddle chased after them. When they got to the lower end of the meadow, they found the body of the man Joel shot. Boone rolled him over on his back to see if he recognized him.
“Know him?” Joel asked, staring down at the whiskered face clearly exposed by the bright moonlight.
“No,” Boone answered. “Can’t say as I’ve ever seen him before.”
“Too bad,” Joel said. “I’d like to be able to tie him to Beauchamp.” He paused to think about it for a moment. “Those two that got away, one of ’em was hit pretty bad. He’ll most likely go to the doctor. Maybe we can find out who he is. What about the sheriff? Has Silver City got one?”
“You can forget about gettin’ help from the sheriff,” Boone said. “Beauchamp put him in office. If he does anything, he’s likely to come after us. The trouble is nobody in Silver City knows what’s goin’ on in these mountains outside town. There ain’t no law out here. It’s just what a man is strong enough to hold on to. I’ve got a legal claim filed on this land, but there ain’t no law around to make sure a man’s property is protected.”
“Well, at least Beauchamp knows he’s gonna keep losin’ men if he sends ’em after you again.” He paused when he caught sight of something metallic in the moonlight. Walking over in the grass a few yards away, he picked it up. “This jasper had a fine-lookin’ rifle,” he said, turning a ’sixty model Henry over in his hands. “Wonder why he pulled it. They never fired a shot.” He pitched it to Boone, who caught it and looked it over, too.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about gettin’ one of these for Blue,” he said. “She’s pretty damn good with that Springfield she totes, but it’s a real bother, especially if you’re tryin’ to shoot as fast as you can.”
“Well, give her that one,” Joel said. “That’s a nice romantic present for a man to give his wife.” He knelt down to unbuckle the dead man’s gun belt. “Here, give her this to go with it,” he said as he stood up, pulling the belt from around the corpse in the process. When Boone took the belt, Joel grabbed the body by the boots and dragged it over in the rocks. “Might as well leave this where the buzzards can get to it.” They both turned then when they heard the sound of horses galloping.
“Everybody all right?” Riley called out as he and Red Shirt rode up to join them. “We heard the shootin’.”
“Everybody but him,” Joel replied, pointing toward the corpse. “I’m afraid you missed the party. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure there’ll be some more when those other two get back to Beauchamp’s ranch. Nothin’ stirrin’ over your way?”
“Nope,” Riley replied, “quiet as can be.”
“I suppose we should get back to the house and let the womenfolk know ain’t none of us got shot,” Boone said. “I doubt we’ll see anybody else tonight. That’s the way it’s been, just a little deviltry about every two or three nights, hopin’ I’ll get sick enough of it to move out. After tonight, though, things might get a little bit hotter. Maybe we can get a few hours’ sleep tonight while we’ve got a chance.”
“Maybe I stay little bit longer,” Red Shirt said, and shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” Riley said, “but I think Boone’s right. I don’t think those boys will be back tonight.”
Already noticing a trend, Boone asked Joel, “Does he always shrug his shoulders before he says something?”
“Almost,” Joel replied.
Chapter 8
Boss Beauchamp did not like to be interrupted when eating his breakfast, so he was more than a little annoyed when his foreman showed up at the back door of the sprawling ranch house at the foot of Blackjack Mountain. Mike Strong knew better than to disturb his employer during a meal, but he thought that Boss would want to be told about the problem he was faced with right away. Leon Smith was lying in the bunkhouse with two bullet holes in his back, and he needed to see the doctor soon, because he didn’t look as though he was going to make it.
That wasn’t the worst of it. Shorty Doyle didn’t come back from that little party he and Leon and Sid Hadley were supposed to pull off last night. Boss was short of patience when his orders were not followed, and Strong knew he was going to hit the ceiling when he found out about Shorty. Sid should have known Boss would raise hell with him for leaving Shorty’s body on McAllister’s property, but he didn’t think about anybody’s hide but his own. And now it was Strong’s job to tell Beauchamp about the fouled-up raid on McAllister’s cattle. He could hear him cursing Lena as he pushed his chair back from the dining room table. Strong unconsciously took a couple of steps back from the kitchen steps in anticipation of his employer’s arrival.
“Mike,” Beauchamp roared, “what is so all-fired important that it can’t wait till I’ve had a decent amount of time to drink my coffee?”
“There’s a little problem with some of the men,” Strong started, but got no further before Beauchamp interrupted.
“I believe that’s what I hired you for, isn’t it—to take care of any problems with the men?”
“Yes, sir,” Strong replied meekly. “And I reckon I do a pretty good job for you. But this is somethin’ I think you’d wanna know right off, and that’s the only reason I disturbed your breakfast.”
“All right,” Beauchamp said. “Make it quick. I need to be at my office at the mine. I’ve got idiots working there that might blow up the place if I’m not there to tell them what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Strong said. He went on then to relate the mishap that was supposed to be another step in the plan to force Boone McAllister to give up and move out. Beauchamp listened without interrupting, although it was apparent by the tightening of his expression that he was approaching a state of unbridled fury. Still he said nothing until Strong finished up with “I figured it best to check with you before I sent for the doctor to come look at Leon.”
“It’s a good thing you did, you damn fool,” Beauchamp roared. “I don’t want the doctor to know Leon’s getting shot has anything to do with me. I can’t have him coming out to my ranch to tend to somebody who got shot on McAllister’s place.”
It irritated him even more to have to explain something so simple to his foreman. He paid his men good money to do what he asked without question and have enough sense to keep their mouths shut about it.
“Yes, sir,” Strong said. “Whaddaya want me to do about Leon?”
“The same thing you do when a horse goes lame,” Beauchamp replied coldly. Realizing then that he might have been a little too blunt, he softened his order a bit. “Let Fuzzy take a look at him and see if he thinks Leon’s going to pull through it. Then we’ll see. It might be the humane thing to put him out of his misery if he’s headed that way anyway. The damn doctor couldn’t do much more than that.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll go tell Fuzzy.”
“Then bring Sid back here,” Beauchamp ordered. “I want to talk to him.”
• • •
After Strong went to the cookhouse to find Fuzzy Chapman, he walked with him to the bunkhouse, where Leon still lay in the same blood-soaked quilt that had been placed on him the night before.
“Boss says to see what you can do to fix him up,” he told the cook.
“I’ll take another look at him,” Fuzzy said, “but he don’t look much better’n he did last night.”
“See what you think,” Strong told him. “Let me know when I get back.” He took a moment to stare at the pitiful man, lying helplessly on his bunk, clutching the quilt in pain. “It’s a damn wonder he made it back at all,” was Strong’s final comment before turning away.
Breakfast was long since finished, but two of the hands were still sitting at the table at the end of the building, drinking coffee. One of them was Sid Hadley, still wearing a large swollen cut on his right cheekbone, the result of a barroom confrontation at the Silver Dollar Saloon.
“Come on, Sid,” Strong said. “Boss wants to see you.”
At once wary, Sid replied, “What’s he want with me? Ain’t nothin’ I could do ’bout Leon gettin’ shot.”
“I reckon Boss will tell you,” Strong responded impatiently. “Now get up outta that chair before I decide to kick your ass all the way over to the house.”
• • •
Lena Three Toe opened the kitchen door and stood back to let the two men inside. “Mr. Beauchamp’s in the dining room, waiting for you.”
As Hadley passed by her, she reached out and slapped him on the back of his head. “Take your hat off when you come in this house,” she snapped.
“Yes’m,” Sid replied meekly, and removed it at once, even as he cursed her under his breath. There was no love lost between Beauchamp’s hired guns and his prickly tempered housekeeper. Boss set himself up as a king in his house and Lena conducted herself as the queen. To the people in town, she was perceived as Beauchamp’s Indian cook and housekeeper, but the men he hired to do his evil work knew that she performed other functions that Boss preferred to keep to himself.
With an ambitious eye for the future, he concentrated his attention at the present on the building of a financial empire, without regard for anyone who stood in his way. And that certainly included the likes of Boone McAllister, who somehow had acquired the papers for the mountain that stood between Beauchamp and the city proper of Silver City. When he was finished, Boss Beauchamp intended to have Silver City named the capital of Idaho Territory, with himself as governor. He intended to buy it, if possible, steal it if that wasn’t successful, or kill for it if that was necessary.
Lena followed the two men into the dining room, where Beauchamp was seated, drinking coffee.
“You want some more coffee?” she asked.
When he nodded, she left to fetch the pot. In a minute, she was back to fill his cup. Then she returned to the kitchen. There was no offer of coffee for the two hired hands, who stood quietly waiting for Beauchamp to speak. He made them stand and fidget for a long moment before he acknowledged their presence. When he did, it was in the form of a piercing stare that Sid Hadley could almost feel scorching his skin.
When he finally spoke, it was as disconcerting as Sid had expected. Directed squarely at him, Beauchamp uttered a question, his voice approaching a growl.
“You left one of my men on McAllister property?”
Sid was afraid to answer, but knew he had little choice. “Well, yessir,” he stumbled. “That there’s the way it turned out, but there wasn’t nothin’ I could do about that. They was waitin’ for us. We didn’t have a chance. They was all around that pasture. There musta been a dozen of ’em, and we didn’t have no choice but to get outta there. I thought Leon and Shorty were comin’ right behind me. I didn’t know both of ’em got shot. If I’da known Shorty was knocked off his horse, why, I’da gone right back to get him.”
He stood there nervously shifting back and forth from one foot to the other, waiting for Beauchamp’s reaction.
“You make me sick,” Beauchamp snarled. “You ran like a yellow-livered coward. What do you think people will say if they find out Shorty worked for me?”
“Oh no, sir, Mr. Beauchamp, don’t nobody know Shorty worked for you. There wouldn’t be no way of knowin’ who he worked for,” Sid pleaded. “But there was just too many of ’em for us to handle.”
“How do you know how many there were?” Beauchamp demanded.
It was of critical importance to him to know if McAllister had, in fact, hired on some extra hands. If he had, he might find himself in a full range war, something he wished to avoid.
“Well, sir, it was dark, so I couldn’t count the exact number, but the shots was comin’ from everywhere. But I know for a fact that he hired on some men. I was in town when some of ’em came through the other day.” He unconsciously reached up to gingerly touch the cut on his cheekbone. “They was lookin’ for McAllister’s place. A couple of ’em came in the Silver Dollar where me and Leon was havin’ a drink before we rode back to the ranch. We got into it a little bit till one of ’em snuck behind me and cracked me with his rifle barrel. And I’ll tell you the truth, he was a hired gun, if I ever saw one.” He paused to take a breath, but continued when Beauchamp appeared to be taking him seriously. “And I’ll tell you another thing. When we rode into that pasture last night, there was a helluva lot more horses grazin’ there than there was the last time we was up there.”
Beauchamp was beginning to feel real concern by then. “Are you telling me you actually saw more horses, or are you just trying to cover your ass for running away?”
“No, sir,” Sid insisted as earnestly as he could manage. “I’m tellin’ you that McAllister never had more than three horses that I ever saw up there. And last night there was at least fifteen or sixteen in that bunch with the cows.”
“That damn gimp-legged son of a bitch,” Beauchamp snarled. “Where’d he get the money to hire on a bunch of gunmen?”
He paused to think about Boone McAllister’s tiny one-man operation. He felt sure he would scare him off when he hired two men to work for him, and Strong, with two of the men, paid them a visit. Now he found out that instead of running, McAllister hired on a crew.
“He must be pulling some real pay dirt out of that mine of his.”
It was confirmation of what he had already suspected, and made him even more desperate to get his hands on that property.
Maybe I’m going to need more men, he thought.
He decided that the important thing to do next was to find out exactly how many men McAllister had. With Shorty dead, and Leon probably so, Beauchamp was down to thirteen men who had been hired specifically for their guns.
“All right,” he finally ordered, “get out of here. I’ve got to go into town. Strong, have one of the men saddle my horse.” He cast another seething look at Sid. “Maybe he can do it without fouling up. And, Strong, see what Fuzzy says about Leon. You know what to do.”
The two men split up, Sid on his way to the barn and Strong headed back to the bunkhouse. When he arrived, Fuzzy was still bending over Leon, trying to clean him up a little. When he saw Strong walk in, he straightened up and signaled the foreman with a slow shake of his head. Strong understood.
“Done about all I can do for him,” Fuzzy said. “I was just tryin’ to make him a little more comfortable.”
“All right, Fuzzy,” Strong said. “I reckon you’d best get back to your work.” He waited until the cook walked out the door before going over beside Leon’s bunk to look at him. “How ya doin’, partner?” Strong asked compassionately.
Leon’s eyes blinked painfully as he looked up at Strong. “I been better,” he rasped between lips crusted with blood that Fuzzy had been unsuccessful in cleaning up. “I need to see the doctor,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Right you are,” Strong said. “And that’s exactly what we’re fixin’ to do, so you just rest easy now. You’ll feel better when the doctor sees you.” Leon closed his eyes and relaxed a little. He was too weak from the loss of blood to put up much resistance when Strong suddenly grabbed
him by the throat and clamped down on his windpipe. Leon put up as much effort to survive as he could, but Strong was a big man, and his hands were like two large vises as he increased the pressure on the helpless man’s throat. He held on to the doomed man long after Leon’s weak but desperate flailing of his arms and legs ceased and death came to claim him.
When he was sure Leon was gone for good, Strong walked outside, where he spotted two of the men near the barn.
“Jim,” he called out, “you and Sledge get yourself a couple of shovels. Poor ol’ Leon didn’t make it, so I reckon you’d best carry him over beyond the hill and dig him a grave.”
When Sid came out of the barn then, leading Beauchamp’s horse, Strong walked over to intercept him.
“I heard what you told ’em,” Sid said. “So ol’ Leon went under. Nothin’ much a body can do about it when his number’s up, I reckon.”
Strong took the reins from him and said, “That’s a fact. Go get yourself a pick and help them bury him.” Then he led the horse up to the kitchen door and knocked. When Lena opened the door, he said, “Tell Mr. Beauchamp that Leon Smith passed away, and I’ll tie his horse at the hitchin’ post out front.”
• • •
Jake Tully looked up from behind the bar where he was rinsing some shot glasses in a bucket of water, surprised to see Ronald Beauchamp at this early hour of the day. Boss Beauchamp visited the Silver Dollar occasionally, but usually to have a drink later in the day, after he left his office at Beauchamp No. 2.
“Well, good mornin’, Mr. Beauchamp,” he greeted him. “Don’t normally see you in here this time of day. What can I get you?”
Jake didn’t count himself as one of Beauchamp’s admirers, but he was smart enough to know he had to respect the man’s power.
Silver City Massacre Page 12
