by Ralph Cotton
“What do you suppose those two shots meant, Big Aces?” Dave Pickens asked, sounding concerned.
Shear looked back, making sure the Clark brothers were far enough back not to hear him. The two sat scanning the hill line ahead in the grainy morning light.
“They were warning shots from Freddie,” Shear said in almost a whisper. “I slipped him my double-barreled derringer, told him not to fire it for any reason, unless somebody rode in off our trail.”
Emma cut in, sounding scared, ready to slide down from his lap. “So you mean there’s somebody—”
“Shut up,” said Shear, shaking her a little, holding her firmly in place. “You wanted a ride, now you’ve got it.”
“Who do you figure?” Duckwald asked, moving his horse over closer to Shear, the other men doing the same. At the rear the Clark brothers looked at each other and nudged their horses forward.
“I don’t know,” said Shear. “It could be anybody, maybe railroad gunmen. But whoever it is, they’re not getting away from there with our gold.”
“What if it’s the law?” Duckwald asked. “They’ll want us more than they’ll want the gold.”
Shear didn’t answer. Instead he half turned with Emma on his lap and looked at the Clark brothers as they came to a halt up closer.
“It’s time to prove yourselves, Patton . . . Noland,” he said. “Get this done and you’ll be wearing a moon and star of your own.”
“Let me guess,” Patton said, unconcerned. “You want us to ride ahead and scout for you. If anybody gets killed you want it to be us, the newcomers.”
“Damn good guess,” said Shear.
“A moon and star sounds just fine to me,” said Noland. “But I figure there ought to be something more, in case we do run into a railroad posse or the like.”
“A smart man, your brother,” Shear said to Patton Clark, “and greedy too.” He gave them a flat, tight grin. “I look for those traits in new men.”
“It’s a fair question,” said Patton. “What else do we get if we ride into trouble?”
As Shear spoke his right hand came to rest on the butt of his black-handled Remington. “Ordinarily I’d say it’s not what you’ll get for doing it, it’s what you’ll get if you don’t.” He let out a breath. “But not this time. I like you fellows. How about five hundred in gold coins, along with your moon and star? All you got to do is scout ahead for us, to a cabin sitting up on a cliff side.”
The two looked at each other, then back and Shear. They smiled. “Consider it done,” said Patton.
Atop the boulder, Dee Sandoval sat scanning the lower trail with the naval telescope as the first rays of sunlight peeped over the horizon. In the circle of lens, he spotted the two riders moving up the trail through a lifting morning haze. Staying crouched on the rock, he held up two fingers for the ranger and Thorn to see from where they stood out in front of the cabin.
While both men watched, Sandoval gave Thorn a straight wave of his hand. Thorn gave him a wave of acknowledgment and turned to the ranger.
“There’s two riders coming up,” he said. “Sandy says they’re traveling alone.”
“Shear and most of his men pulled back when they heard the shots,” Sam said. “These two are scouts.”
“Makes sense,” said Thorn. “But Shear won’t be far behind, even if he thought the Seventh Cavalry was waiting here. He’s not giving up this gold.”
The two looked at each other. Sam said, “We’ve lost our element of surprise. But tell Sandoval to hold his fire and let them in closer.”
Thorn gave Sandoval a hand signal, then said to the ranger, “He’s got the message. I’ll get back to the Gatling gun. When they all get in close I’ll blast the doors open from inside.”
Inside the cabin, Lilly and Freddie lay handcuffed together in a corner against the thick pine cabin wall. The ranger had taken the feather mattress from the bed and thrown it over them. On the front porch, the gambler stepped out and looked down at the ranger as Thorn hurried around to the back of the barn.
“I’ve got the cabin covered, Ranger,” he said, holding his Colt Thunderer down at his side. He gave a weak, spent grin. “Ready when you are.”
Sam looked him up and down. “I’m covering the cabin with you.”
“I assure you . . . it will not be necessary, Ranger,” said the gambler. He gave a feeble but sweeping gesture toward the door with his gun hand. “But your company is always welcome.”
As he walked up onto the porch and into the cabin, the ranger gave a look back toward the top of the boulder where Sandoval lay in wait, and toward the barn where Thorn sat behind the Gatling gun.
As if reading the ranger’s thoughts, Tinnis said quietly, “It’s true our lives are in each other’s hands, Ranger. Yet I can think of no hands I’d trust as much.”
“I know they’re both seasoned fighters,” Sam said, walking inside, the gambler right behind him.
“Seasoned fighters to say the least,” Mayes assured him. “And if the good captain told you he can walk on water, do not bet against him.”
Chapter 26
From atop the boulder, Sandoval held an aim on Patton Clark, the first of the Clark brothers to ease his horse up onto the flat stone surface. Noland lagged back, rifle in hand, covering his brother as Patton nudged the horse forward at a walk. Patton prowled all around the front of the cabin, the locked barn doors and along the base of the large boulder at the turn in the trail.
Upon his return to the front of the house, he called out, “Hello, the cabin,” and sat with his Colt in his hand, cocked and ready.
Sam opened the door slowly and stepped out onto the porch, his big Colt also cocked and ready.
“Who the hell are you?” Patton Clark asked.
“I’m Arizona Territory Ranger Samuel Burrack,” said the ranger. “I’m here reclaiming the gold Shear and the Black Valley Riders stole from the railroad.”
Patton looked all around. “All by yourself?”
Sam saw no reason to keep the numbers a secret. He and the bounty hunters wanted Shear and his men to come face them. “There’s three men with me,” he said coolly, “two bounty hunters and a gambler.”
“Oh, so this is about bounty money?” Patton asked.
“Tell Shear we’ve got the gold. Everything else he can figure out for himself.”
Patton gave him a knowing look. “I’ll tell him,” he said, backing his horse. “We’ll be seeing you again real soon.”
Turning his horse, he rode over and turned it and sat beside Noland for a moment, the two staring at the quiet, peaceful cabin. “Did you hear that?” Patton asked.
“Oh yeah, I heard it all,” Noland replied in a lowered voice. “Let’s go.”
The two backed their horses slowly and turned them to the trail, guns still in hand. “We showed Shear that our blood doesn’t run yellow,” Patton said.
“Yeah,” said Noland, “and we got ourselves joined right up with the Black Valley Riders.” They gigged their horses as one and rode away down the trail.
Atop the boulder, Sandoval eased the rifle butt down from his shoulder as he watched the two lope down out of sight among the rock and pine.
Less than a mile down the trail, at a wide spot, Shear had moved his man forward and waited; Patton and Noland Clark reined over and stopped.
“Well?” said Shear.
“There’s a ranger there named Samuel Burrack,” said Patton. “He said there’s two bounty hunters and a gambler backing his play.”
“Son of a bitch,” Shear cursed. He glared at Duckwald.
“I never said they were dead. Fisk said it,” Duckwald said in a strong tone, his gun already in hand ready to fire.
Shear saw it. Even if he managed to get the drop on Duckwald, he realized this was no time to kill off one of his best gunmen.
“Those two damn-blasted sailors turned bounty hunters, and Tinnis Lucas,” Shear said, pushing up his hat. He shook his head.
“The ranger said to
tell you they’ve got the railroad gold, and you can figure out the rest for yourself,” said Patton Clark.
Shear didn’t even have to consider it. “All they want is a straight-out confrontation,” he said. On his lap, Emma Fay squirmed a little. He gave here a short squeeze to settle her while he continued to think.
“Are we going to give it to them, Big Aces?” Duckwald cut in, his arms around Cleary, who sat slumped back on his lap, a hand stroking his knee, his thigh. He’d drawn his rifle and held it lying across her bare thighs.
Shear said with a slight scoff, “One ranger, two sailors and a drunk? You’re damned right we are.” He drew his rifle from its boot.
“Can I get down now?” Emma Fay asked.
“Not a chance,” said Shear. He laid the rifle across her thighs as well. “Haven’t you ever wanted to see a gun battle up close?” he whispered with a dark chuckle, close to her ear.
Emma understood his intentions. She shrieked and squirmed and tried to get free. Beside them on Duckwald’s horse Cleary did the same.
“Let me down!” Emma screamed at Shear. She threw a clawed hand back into his face, going for his eyes. But Shear reached a big hand around, squeezed her throat until she began to turn purple.
“See, it doesn’t matter to me,” he said in her ear. “You can ride into this dead or alive.” He eased his hand around her throat and felt her gasping for breath. He gave a dark grin. “Now you just relax. Try to enjoy the ride.”
Beside them, when Cleary had begun to struggle, Duckwald had simply raised his rifle from her lap and with a short hard blow cracked her in the jaw with the bottom of the barrel. She lay limp against his chest, blood running down her cheek.
Shear laughed and said to the men, “Rudy always had a more direct way with women.” He looked around and called out in a raised voice, “Let’s go get our gold wagon, before it gets away from us!”
The men looked at each other, questioning Shear and Duckwald using the women for shields; but the thought of the gold wagon getting away from them quickly won out. They turned their horses and fell in on the steep trail toward the cliff-side cabin.
Here they come. . . .
Sandoval watched through the telescope as the men rode into sight on the steep trail. There was no need to give a signal to the ranger and his father. His first shot would tell them everything they needed to know.
He scanned from rider to rider, seeing the two women, one with a look of terror frozen onto her face, the other lying unconscious, lolling on the outlaw’s lap, her legs flopping against the horse’s side.
Lowering the telescope, Sandoval raised the big Swiss rifle to his shoulder. On the trail the sound of hooves had begun to rumble up along the hillside as he moved his rifle sights away from the women.
On the trail, Epson, having realized too late the benefit of keeping one of the young doves on his lap, kept as close to his brother-in-law’s side as he could at the head of the riders. Yet, as they rounded a turn, he was forced to veer away from Duckwald’s side for just a moment; and that moment was all it took.
Sandoval’s first bullet appeared to have exploded inside the outlaw’s head. The impact picked Epson up from his saddle and flung him backward in a wide spray of blood, bone and brain matter. His spooked horse stumbled and fell, forcing the other riders to swing wide, dangerously close to the edge of the trail and the gaping valley two hundred feet below.
Ben Longley’s horse didn’t make it back from the edge. Instead its hooves found loose breakaway rock and gravel; both horse and rider flew out off the edge and soared down out of sight, their legs still running, seeking purchase in the thin air.
Sandoval methodically reloaded, knowing the success of his first shot. He had taken out one man and left the rest scattering and struggling to right themselves as they topped the edge of the stone cliff surface and made for the cabin.
Shear and Duckwald drew back, keeping the two women against them for protection for as long as they could. Cleary had awakened from the crack Duckwald had given her with the rifle barrel, but she was half dazed. Shear shouted into Emma Fay’s ear as the fighting raged, “How do you like it so far?”
Once the rest of the outlaws were on the flat stone surface, Sam and Tinnis Mayes opened fire from the front windows of the cabin, making their position the outlaws’ most likely target. Atop the boulder, Sandoval scanned with his rifle sights until he took aim at Dave Pickens, who had ridden wide of the others and managed to get closest to the cabin. Pickens’ Colt blazed at the front window where the ranger stood firing back with his Winchester.
Just as the ranger swung his Winchester toward Pickens, he saw the outlaw flip backward from his saddle beneath a red mist of blood, Sandoval’s rifle resounding from above them.
The outlaws, seeing they needed cover more than they needed horses, flung themselves from their saddles and hit the ground. They dived flat to the ground or ran left and right in a crouch toward the cabin and the barn.
As the three reached the front of the barn, Thorn opened fire with the Gatling gun. Two men fell dead in a hail of bullets mixed with splinters and ripped boards from the closed barn doors. The third man, Ballard Swean, raced away. But a bullet from the gambler at the cabin window nailed him solidly in his back.
“There goes my moon and star pin,” Tinnis said in mock regret, smoke rising from the barrel of his shiny Colt Thunderer.
The ranger only had time to glance over at the gambler. He turned back to the window as a bullet thumped into the frame near his head. Running toward cover in the yard near the cabin, Patton Clark, seeing that his shot had missed the ranger, took another aim.
But Sam’s Winchester stopped him short, sending a bullet tearing through his chest.
Beside Patton, his brother, Noland, let out a cry of rage and fired at the ranger’s window. But the ranger levered his Winchester quickly and fired. His shot hit Noland Clark dead center just as Sandoval’s Swiss rifle took the top of the outlaw’s head off.
Over the edge of the stone surface, Shear noted the steady thumping of the Gatling gun fall silent. He looked at Duckwald as a lull in the rest of the fighting became noticeable. With the young dove trembling against his chest, Shear said, “Rudy, it looks like you and I are going to be splitting that gold between the two of us.”
Duckwald looked around at where their horses had run to after they’d jumped down from their saddles with the women as shields. “We could make a run for it,” Duckwald said.
“Without the gold?” said Shear. “Nonsense! We’re taking it. I won’t be beaten by these jakes.”
“Jesus, Big Aces,” said Duckwald, “it sounds like they’ve killed everybody but us!”
“All because we’ve got these sweet little doves,” said Shear. “Can’t you see, they’re our passage out of here, Rudy, gold and all.” He grinned. “I might keep one pinned to my chest every job from now on.” As he spoke he loosened his trouser belt, pulled it from his waist and wrapped it a turn around Emma Fay’s neck.
Inside the cabin, Sam and the gambler looked at each other in surprise as they heard Shear call out, “Hold your fire, Ranger. We’re coming up. I have some gals here I want you to meet.”
Sam looked out and all around at the dead strewn on the stone surface in pools of blood. Their spooked horses had raced away up the trail around the large boulder. Dust from their hooves still loomed in the air.
“That was fast,” Sam said. He eased down and watched from the corner of the window frame as Shear and Duckwald eased into sight, the woman pressed to them. Shear held a firm grip on the belt around Emma Fay’s neck.
“Whatever you think you’re going to do, Shear, it’s not going to work,” Sam called out, seeing the women, one with Shear’s belt circling her throat. He stepped away from the window and walked over to the door, Tinnis right behind him. The two stepped out onto the front porch.
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Ranger,” said Shear. “Unless you and your sailor friends want t
o scrape enough of these young ladies back together to give them a decent burial, you better get my gold wagon out here, pronto!”
“And give us the Gatling gun, too,” said Duckwald, easing up beside him, Cleary hanging loose and wobbly against him, his arm crooked around her neck.
On top of the boulder, Sandoval moved his sights back and forth from one outlaw to the other, looking for his best and safest shot.
Thorn swung the front barn doors open and stood in the open doorway, his left hand resting on the handle of his sword. One of the badly bullet-riddled doors broke in half and crashed to the dirt.
“Be a man, Shear. Turn the women loose,” Thorn said in a commanding voice.
“Well, well,” Shear said, “at last I get to meet one of the sailors I’ve heard so much about.”
“Marine,” Thorn said.
“Whatever,” said Shear. “You have some damn nerve, thinking you’re going to do this, coming out here in my country, and collect blood money for killing the Black Valley Riders.”
“It’s already done, Shear, look around you,” said Thorn. “Now turn the women loose. At least die like a man, instead of like a snake.”
“Huh-uh, it’s not done, sailor,” said Shear. “These men lying here aren’t half the Black Valley Riders—not even a third.”
“Good, we can make some more money hunting the rest down and killing them too,” Thorn said matter-of-factly.
Sam and Tinnis saw what Thorn was doing, goading Shear into facing him man to man without the women as shields. Sam looked up at the top of the boulder to where he knew Sandoval was watching. Sidelong he whispered to the gambler, “Stay here.” He gave a short nod toward Rudy Duckwald. “I’m getting on this one’s other side.”
As Sam eased around to the other side of Duckwald, the outlaw turned right along with him, but still not enough to give Sandoval a clear safe shot.
“You’ve made all you’re going to make off killing me and my men, sailor,” said Shear. He twisted Emma Fay around and stuck the barrel of his Remington against her temple. “If I go down, she’s going with me. Now get the wagon out here, sailor. I’m through talking.”
