Kate saw her father falling to the ground, his legs sliding out from underneath him as he fell. He grabbed his left leg and she could hear his shout from where she lay. Shocked, she had the presence of mind to sight her rifle across the pasture. When she heard a second and third shot and saw a puff of smoke, she returned fire. After a couple of shots, she risked a glance back toward her father. She saw that he had managed to grab the reins, and using both hands and all his weight, had pulled his horse to the ground in front of him. Feeling relief wash over her as she realized he now had cover, she turned and continued to fire shots into the trees and brush where she had first seen the smoke.
Jim Randolph lay on the ground, feeling a stabbing pain coming from his left leg. He could see the blood oozing onto his pant leg, and through the shock came the realization that he had been ambushed from the Carson side. He’d had the presence of mind to pull his horse down as cover. He was pretty sure that the second and third shots had killed the horse. He didn’t dare raise his head over the level of the saddle, but he was able to pull his rifle from the saddle, lay it over the horse and return fire in the direction of the shots fired at him. He began to realize that shots were also being fired from the woods to his right and he knew that Kate had come to his aid. He hung on grimly, straining to retain consciousness. He managed to pump several more shots towards the Carson land.
Sam entered the upper pasture at full gallop, leaning low over the saddle to shield himself from the Carson’s gunshots and allowing the fire from Kate and Jim to serve as cover. He held to the tree line and guided his horse to the right of Kate. When he reached a spot about thirty yards to her right, he yanked the rifle from the scabbard and dove behind a boulder. With Jim on the left and Kate on the right, he formed the third point of a bracket around the shooters. No matter how good their cover, they were going to feel uncomfortable now, he reflected grimly. Using Red’s repeating rifle, and feeling silently thankful that he had grabbed three boxes of ammunition, he lay down a heavy line of fire into the trees where he could see their smoke. Pausing for a moment to look carefully into the trees, he thought he could see a patch of red among the green of the leaves and brown of the tree trunks. He laid his sights on the patch of red and exhaled slowly as he squeezed the trigger. The patch of red disappeared. He knew he had probably done no more than graze someone’s back, but a bullet wound stung all the same. When he saw and heard movement in the brush or twigs, he aimed a shot at the movement. After a few more minutes, they could hear no more shots coming from across the pasture.
Knowing that Jim Randolph had stopped firing earlier, Sam called out softly: “Kate” he said, “I think they’re pulling back. We need to get your father back to the house, so let’s let them go.” He heard a faint “OK” coming from Kate’s position. Sam waited for five minutes, and then began walking his horse to Kate’s position. He found her prone behind a fallen log, rifle still at the ready across the log. “I think they’re gone” Sam told her. “If you can stay here for a few minutes longer to give me cover, I’m going over to check on Jim.” Kate nodded her agreement, the strain and worry showing in her face when she glanced across toward her father. Sam walked his horse across the pasture, following his own advice by keeping the horse between him and the Carson pasture. When he reached Jim Randolph, he found him unconscious. A quick check showed a strong pulse, and he motioned for Kate to join him.
Finding that Jim’s horse was dead, they lifted him to Sam’s horse, and Sam swung aboard behind him. Kate, keeping the rifle leveled in the direction of the Carson property, climbed on her horse and they slowly carried Jim back to the ranch house. They found Mike in the yard, having just arrived, and Sam sent him back to town to fetch the doctor. Sam and Kate then carried Jim into the house, setting him down on the sofa. They cut away the pants leg below the wound. It appeared that the bullet had passed through his leg cleanly. Kate washed the wound, and while they waited for Doc Chapman to arrive they discussed the situation. Jim seemed to fall into a fitful sleep on the sofa, moaning softly from time to time as he tossed back and forth.
“They’re not done trying to take the ranch, are they?” Kate asked. Sam shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. They thought they saw an easy way to take Jim out of the picture, leaving only you, and they probably know they at least wounded him. They probably also figured out there were two guns returning fire, and decided to pull back and find better odds if they can.” Sam produced a toothpick from his pocket and began to chew it while he thought things over for a while longer. “They have the advantage because we don’t know how many of them there are” he continued after a while. “I know we can figure on the two living Carson brothers and we can just go ahead and figure that Red is with them too. And I’m pretty sure there’s another low-life named Santos who has thrown in with them.” He stared at the table while he talked, lifting his gaze once in a while out the window to the ranch yard. The sun was beginning to set, casting shadows over the bunkhouse and corral. Sam thought for a while longer. “They could have some additional help coming by now. People like the Carsons don’t like a fair fight.”
Kate absorbed that piece of information, walked over to check briefly on her father, then returned to sit at the table with Sam, who was now silent and concentrating his attention out the window. “What can we do?” she asked simply. Sam pulled his gaze back to her, removed the toothpick and thought for a while before answering. “We’ll have to see what shape your Dad is in,” he answered “before we’ll know if he can at least use a rifle from cover on the porch.” He looked around at the defensive positions they had created in the yard using the firewood. Now he swung back around to look at Kate as he talked. “We can get in touch with Sheriff Stanton to help us now. I hope he doesn’t have any ideas about talking sense into the Carsons. This is a range war and he needs to treat it like one.” He walked over to the window, and then came back to the table. “One thing we have going for us,” he finished. “They don’t know about Mike. He’ll be here to help us, and they don’t know about that extra gun.”
Kate covered Sam’s hand with hers on the table. “Thank you” she said simply. The corners of Sam’s mouth formed a smile around the toothpick. “Wouldn’t miss it for anything” he said. “One good thing about getting older. It gets easier to sort out the good guys and the bad guys. Decisions come a little easier.” With that he picked up his rifle and moved out to the porch, sitting in the lengthening shadows and keeping the rifle trained on the approaches to the house.
Darkness had settled in when approaching hoof beats signaled the arrival of Doc Chapman with Mike. The doctor came in and examined the wound. Jim had awakened and was pale but alert, grimacing occasionally as Doc Chapman probed around the entrance and the exit wound. Eventually he straightened up with a small smile. “Good news, Jim” he announced. “I know it don’t feel too good right now, but that’s a clean wound. I don’t need to set it, because the leg ain’t broke. You might feel it every now and then when a storm is comin’, but you’ll be walking just fine after a while.” With that, he threw a few instruments back in his bag and let himself out the back door.
Mike leaned against the wall near the kitchen, hat in his hands. He had spoken very little since arriving, and glanced quizzically at Sam after the doctor was gone. Sam walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Still prepared to help out?” he asked. Mike nodded. Sam walked him over to the door. “I need you to get back to town tonight and let Sheriff Stanton know what happened. Tell him exactly what went down, that it was an ambush, plain and simple. Then make sure the saloon is boarded up inside. We’ll have to shut it down for a while. Be back here by mid-morning if you can. Bring your rifle and plenty of ammo. We got us a shootin’ war here, unless I miss my guess.” Mike ducked out the back door and they could hear him leaving the yard just a few minutes after the doctor was gone.
Sam poured a glass of whiskey and carried it over to Jim. “Here” he said simply. This will help some with the pain and may
be get you back to sleep. “We’re gonna need your help soon if you’re able.” Jim tossed off the whiskey without a word and settled himself back on the sofa. Kate walked out to the kitchen and began preparing some food. Sam walked in and leaned against a counter. “Here’s how I see it” Sam told her. “You and hopefully Jim can be on the porch behind cover come morning. I’ll be behind the woodpile near the bunkhouse. My original plan was to set up a first line of defense at the bunkhouse, but the numbers are against us, so we’ll pull in closer. When Mike gets here, he’ll go behind the other woodpile, but he’ll hold fire at first. They don’t know to expect him. I think they’ll come from the cover of trees over there.” He pointed to the area behind the bunkhouse. “I don’t know how many guns they have, but it will probably be four, and with any luck they’ll think they’re coming against only me and you. We can hold them off if they don’t have reinforcements.” He started to say something else, then seemed to think better of it and lapsed into silence.
Kate nodded and put some food on the table. They ate in silence, hearing only gentle snores from Jim on the sofa. When they were done, Kate asked “What about tonight?” “I’ll take first watch on the porch” Sam said. “Can you spell me around 2 o’clock?” Kate nodded and Sam moved toward the porch, picking up his rifle as he went. She had one more question as he left. “Sam?” He turned at the door and looked back at her. “We might have one more gun, if he gets my letter in time and comes. You saw my letter to Chance, right?” A small smile played around Sam’s lips. “Oh, he’ll come all right. I just hope he gets that letter in time. That would help us a considerable amount.” The door made no noise as it closed behind him.
Chapter Thirteen
I squatted on my heels in the center of the cave and contemplated the pile of ore and sediment I’d accumulated over the past few weeks. It was all scooped in a pile in the corner. I’d put off trying to process any of the residue and sediment so far, probably because I didn’t really know what to do or how it would come out. Tim had said that three or four crudely processed gold balls might be enough to get me a start on my own place. Trouble was, I wasn’t really sure how big those gold balls needed to be or how pure the content needed to be. I was going to have to do some guessing. I already had the two gold balls I’d found when I came in. That left only one or two more, and it was time I found out had much I had sitting over there in the corner.
I sighed, stood up and made myself a little breakfast. I wouldn’t do any mining today. It was time to try to process some of the ore. After I’d eaten, I went outside to get some water and food for Archie and Fred. Archie nuzzled me a little, and Fred glared at me as usual. Or maybe it was that bad eye of his. I’m sure I’ll never know. I scouted around the cave a little bit, found no tracks or footprints, also as usual, and went back inside.
I went over to where my gear was stored and pulled out a large pan, heavy work gloves, and the bottle of mercury. Then I got out the wire mesh boxes I’d been using to sift out the loose dirt and rock I’d knocked out at the mining site. Finally I took out the mortar and pestle and went to work. I used the mortar and pestle to break up the chunks of quartz and gold. I poured the small bits of rock and residue on the wire mesh before I’d broken them down too far, and saved off the pieces showing good color. Bits that were small enough to have fallen through the mesh but still showed good color I fished out and added to the pile I’d saved off the top of the mesh. I kept feeding the ore from the pile in the corner, taking a break only when my hands couldn’t keep up the grinding. I kept going with only a small break for some food, and stepped outside the cave a couple times just to stretch and get some fresh air.
Finally, about mid-afternoon, I’d done all the grinding I could stand to do for the day. Now came the part I felt least sure about. I got out the large pan, dropped a pretty fair amount of the quartz and gold in it, and then poured some mercury on it. It bubbled a bit, and when I stirred the bottom of the pan for a while, I saw purer gold color in the bottom. I gathered it together, packing it into a ball as best I could, then set it aside and compared it to the two balls of gold ore I’d originally found in this cave. They seemed to be pretty similar in color and consistency, though mine was smaller of course. I kept it up for the rest of the day until I had a ball about the size of the other two I had found, and decided that was a good time to stop for the day.
The next morning I evaluated the amount of unprocessed ore I had left, and knew I was well short of another ball. I decided that before I went back to the site I would keep working at it until I had another ball, though I knew it would be smaller. I found that I was getting a little more skilled at the processing, and went back to grinding, sifting, pouring the mercury and packing the gold residue into a ball. A little while after stopping for some lunch, I had a ball about half the size of the other three, and I had processed all the ore and sediment I’d brought back to the cave.
I stepped outside the cave, checking the area around me for footprints or any sign of activity, which by now was an ingrained habit. I sat down and leaned back against the rock wall next to the cave entrance, soaking in a little sunshine and deciding what to do next. Maybe I had enough to get a place like I wanted, and maybe I didn’t. I would have to see Tim in Denver to find somebody to assess and buy this gold. Until then I didn’t really know how much I had. There was a strong urge in me to quit while I was ahead; the other part of me said to stay a while longer and finish what I started. I found my thoughts drifting back to Kate and Cimarron, but it was too soon to hope for a new start there. The sheriff had said a year before I could come back. At length I stood, went over and got the horses ready for another trip back to the mining site. I would stay at least a while longer.
I followed a trail that by now was familiar, tracing my path to the site where I’d worked the rock walls for the quartz and gold. I moved the horses slowly, trying as always to make as little noise as possible. There was only the occasional muffled hoof beat and the creak of the saddle. I rounded a corner in the trail, scanning around me and checking the path ahead of me. Suddenly my eyes caught something I’d not seen before and I reined Archie in abruptly. I dismounted, keeping the reins in one hand, moving forward and kneeling while I studied the ground. I hadn’t imagined it—there were the tracks of three or four unshod ponies. I stayed still, looking around, afraid that any movement might bring an arrow my way. I heard and saw nothing.
Finally, I stood and went back to Archie with a few quick, crouching steps. I mounted and turned both horses around, heading back for the cave. Clearly the Apaches had come this way in the last two days, because I’d seen nothing before stopping to process the gold. Lucky for me I’d chosen to stop and process when I did, but I still had to get out of here intact. The decision was easy now. I glanced at the sky as I arrived back at the cave. There was still enough light to get packed up and get a start away from here.
Kate knelt at the corner of the porch, glancing at her father once in a while, over at the other corner of the porch. Sam knelt behind the woodpile in front of her to the left, and Mike was behind the other to her right, not giving away his presence yet, according to the plan they’d made. They had come shortly after daybreak. Jim had insisted on taking the final watch of the night, and they’d all been awakened by his shot when he saw them running to take up a position behind the bunkhouse. She, Sam, and Mike had all jumped to their feet, grabbed the rifles they had near the door, and scattered to their agreed positions. She and her father had laid down a covering fire while Sam took a position behind the forward woodpile. Mike had gone out the front door and slipped, hopefully unnoticed, behind the second woodpile. They would almost certainly know there was three guns facing them, but hopefully didn’t know about the fourth.
Sam hunched behind the woodpile fortress they had built a couple of weeks ago, working on the opposite question. How many guns were they facing? Based on the number and direction of the shots they’d received, he was guessing four. Someone was fairly well
sheltered against the west-facing wall of the bunkhouse, loosing an occasional shot toward Jim’s corner of the porch, but staying pretty well covered. One or two more were at the back side of the eastern wall of the bunkhouse, also staying under cover, only showing themselves once in a while to take a shot toward Kate’s position. Someone else was working through the trees on his left, trying to flank his position. That was the one he decided to do something about. And guessing by the occasional glimpse he was catching of red hair, Sam was pretty sure who it was.
Red was getting uncomfortably close to flanking him on the left. He would also be able to get a pretty good shot at Jim’s position if he got much farther. Sam turned slightly and glanced back at the others. Occasional searching fire from Red’s position was making it more and more uncomfortable for him, and he was pinned by fire from whoever was on the west side of the bunkhouse whenever he tried to return fire. Red had positioned himself with a tree between his position and Jim, so he was pretty much able to fire at will. It was time for that to change, Sam thought. He hoped the others could see him clearly enough and remembered the prearranged signal.
Staying hunched behind the woodpile, Sam removed his hat and settled it back on his head. Jim and Kate immediately laid down a covering fire at the bunkhouse positions, and Mike exposed his position for the first time by levering three quick shots at Red’s position. Red jerked and moved farther behind the tree, exposing his position to Sam for the first time. Covered by the fire from the porch, Sam snapped off a quick shot at Red as he came around the tree. The bullet caught him on the arm and spun him out into the open. Sam’s second shot dropped him where he stood. Ironic, he thought—Red had been killed with his own gun. Some just didn’t learn until it was too late.
Chance Reilly Page 10
