Chance Reilly

by Patrick Lindsay

  “Hi boys” I said conversationally. “What brings your to Cimarron?” They stopped abruptly and took in the shotgun and the pistol on my hip. They were silent for a while, then the one on the left spoke. “What business is it of yours?” I glanced in his direction. He wore a gun tied down at each hip and his hand rested a few inches below the right-hand gun. He wore a greasy leather vest over a yellow bandana and he nudged his horse slightly left in an effort to flank me. I raised the shotgun a few inches in his direction and he stopped. “You might say I’m a friend of the sheriff” I said, stretching the truth considerably. He stared at me and I thought he had a pair of the craziest looking eyes I had ever seen.

  The one in the center spoke up. “I heard the saloonkeeper needs help and I come lookin’ for work” he said. These other two are just passin’ through.” “That’s funny” I replied. “The saloonkeeper is a personal friend of mine, he just hired his nephew and I know for a fact he’s not looking for any help.” Crazy Eyes leaned over in his saddle and spit on the ground. “You got a name?” “Chance Reilly” I answered and could see in his eyes that he recognized the name. “Yours?” He didn’t answer. They exchanged looks and I shifted the shotgun to the center.

  “I only see two barrels on that shotgun” said the one in the middle. “And I count three of us. I think maybe you got a problem.” “But then there’s me” called Mike from the woods. Their eyes drifted in that direction, then back to the shotgun. The one on the right and the one in the center seemed to ease back a little, but I knew one on the left was the wild card.

  “Doing arithmetic was never my best thing in school” I told them. “But it seems to me that gun in the woods changes the odds. I’ve got one barrel apiece for two of you, and that rifle in the woods will take down the third one before he can clear leather. I think it’s time for you boys to go back to Mora. You can leave your guns here with me.” They sat motionless for a second. The one on the right lifted his right hand slowly in the air and began to unbuckle his gun belt with his left hand. The one in the center moved to follow suit. I had begun to think the whole thing might pass peacefully when the one on the left went for his gun. I shifted the shotgun slightly and blew him from the saddle. He fell backwards and hit the ground, one foot still caught in the stirrup. His horse bolted, dragging him on the ground for about 15 yards before stopping. I swung the shotgun back to cover the other two, and they both lifted their hands in the air.

  “Guns on the ground” I told them. “Pistols and rifles. Do the same for your friend over there. Then tie him on his saddle and take him with you.” I indicated the one on the ground with a nod of my head. They complied wordlessly. When all the guns were piled in the center of the road, they remounted. One of them took the reins of the dead man’s horse and they turned to go. Looking back over his shoulder, he pointed to the dead man. “That was Bud Carson you just killed” he told me. “He’s got two cousins who will stretch your hide.” “Thanks for the tip” I said. “Get going.” They left without another word and disappeared down the trail to Mora.

  Mike emerged from the woods, holding the reins and leading his horse out to the trail. His gaze followed the two remaining Mora gunfighters. “You got that right about the odds” he said. “They just got a lot better for us.” I gave him the shotgun and he stowed it in his gear and swung aboard his horse. “What do you plan on next?” he asked. I thought for a second, remembering the cave where I had taken Kate when she’d been injured. “They don’t know I’m back” I observed. “I wouldn’t mind taking them by surprise if they storm the house again.” I told him about the cave in the hills. “Kate will know where it is” I said. “I’m going up there tonight, and then I’m going to find the Carsons that are still out there.” We rode back through Cimarron, then parted ways as Mike rode back to the Randolph ranch and I headed for the cave.

  Jack Carson looked through the window for the fourth time in the last hour. Shadows were lengthening across the yard as the sun set. He swung around to look at his brother. “When were they going to get here?” he demanded. Caleb Carson, tired of answering the question, shrugged his shoulders. “Today. They were supposed to get here today.” Santos said nothing, shifting slightly to ease the pain in his arm. For a flesh wound, it was still painful.

  Jack paced back and forth across the room, cursing under his breath and stopping every few trips to look out the window again. Finally he came to a decision. Tomorrow had to be the day. He was tired of waiting.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mike rode the trail back to the Randolph ranch, forcing himself to remain alert and pausing frequently to listen to the night sounds around him. He had made the trip many times now and felt pretty sure the Carsons remained holed up at their ranch each night, but he never allowed himself to become careless. When he reached the ranch, he stopped to call out the pre-arranged password for the benefit of Sam, whom he knew would be watching on the porch for the first shift that night. After caring for his horse, he entered the house and sat down in the welcome warmth of the kitchen, stacking a few boxes of ammunition on the table.

  Jim and Kate gathered around him, waiting for Sam to check in from the porch. Eventually Sam closed the back door behind him and sat at the table. “Any news?” he asked. Mike grinned slightly. “I’d say news is an understatement.” He recounted, to their amazement, the story of the return of Chance Reilly, the death of Bud Carson, and how two other gunfighters had been sent back to Mora. He could see hope returning to the eyes of the Randolphs, father and daughter. Sam sat back and smiled at Kate. “I told you he’d come back” said Sam, “and it looks like he made it just in time.” Kate smiled back, nodded, and wiped a couple tears from the corner of her eye. “So you did, Sam, so you did.” She looked across at Mike. “Where is Chance now?” Mike shrugged slightly. “He said he was going to find the other Carsons. He said something about a cave and said you knew about it.”

  Jim Randolph looked at his daughter quizzically. Kate sat up, the realization dawning in her eyes. “After I was thrown from my horse in the storm” she told him. “Chance took me there and cared for me while we waited out the storm.” Jim nodded, watching her carefully. Kate sat back and stared at the table, a plan beginning to form in her mind. Sam hadn’t wanted to divide forces before, but things seemed to be better than even in their favor, for the first time. She wanted to find Chance.

  Kate looked up from the table to find all eyes on her. “I want to go to the cave in the morning” she said. Her father started to shake his head no, but Kate grabbed his hand. “Hear me out, please, Dad. If someone will go with me to the high pasture, we can follow the cliffs on the west side clear up to the stream and the tree line on the north. I can make my way across to the cave without being seen. The Carsons are to our east and they’ve never been over on the west side. Chance will be up there by himself against three of them if they find him up there. I know I can get there.” Her gaze swung to Sam. “Sam? Just go with me to the top of the high pasture. That’s all I need.” Sam’s eyes remained on the table. “I’m going to let your dad answer for me on this one.” Kate’s eyes went back to her father. “Dad. I have to go help him. Look at what he’s done for us.” Slowly, reluctantly, Jim Randolph nodded his head.

  I waited until it was pitch dark outside before I started for the old ranch. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, which is what I was counting on for concealment. I struck the trail north of town, moving Archie along at an easy pace. I thought that probably the Carson brothers and their gunslinger friend were too confident to post a guard, knowing that the Randolphs and Sam wouldn’t attack them at night. I didn’t plan to do that either. I just planned to reconnoiter a little and get up to the cave. I wondered briefly if it might have been discovered since I’d last been here, but thought that unlikely.

  When the trail brought me to the turnoff to our ranch—I would never be able to think of it as the Carson ranch—I dismounted Archie and walked him slowly toward the ranch yard and stable. I took
off my bandana and covered Archie’s nose so he wouldn’t awaken anybody by snorting at the other horses. If they reacted to us, I couldn’t help that. My guess was they would be too sure of their own position to get up and investigate. I moved ever so slowly through the yard and paused to count the horses in the corral. I saw only three, which tallied with what Mike had said about how many people I was facing. I saw no lights in the house. After walking Archie a hundred yards or so past the house, I remounted and continued up to the cave.

  It looked undisturbed inside the cave since the last time I had been there. I tied up Archie outside, went in and lit a small fire, then leaned back against the cave wall. I was more tired than I had realized. I reached out my hands to warm them near the fire, and then reached in my saddle bag for a little food. I glanced around, smiling a little as I remembered the last time I had been here, with Kate. By now, Mike would have told her I’d come back. I couldn’t wait to see her.

  I began to try to form a plan in my mind for tomorrow. I needed to meet up with them only one at a time, and I knew that could be a problem. If I found all three of them travelling together, I would have to wait my chance to split one out of the herd, so to speak. Taking on two of them at once didn’t seem like a bargain either, but they didn’t know about me yet. I would have to find a way to let surprise give me the edge.

  Eventually the warmth of the fire and the fatigue from the last few days began to catch up to me, and I found myself nodding off against a cave wall. I found some of the old blankets I had left there and shook them out, then spread them on the hay I used as bedding. As I drifted off, my mind went back to the day I’d carried Kate out of this cave. She’d told me she could have walked, but it was more fun to be carried. I fell asleep with a little smile on my face.

  Morning found Caleb Carson and Santos moving across the open field toward the Randolph property. Caleb was nursing a growing anger towards his brother, Jack, who had ordered them to head over and watch the Randolph ranch this morning. Jack himself, he noticed, seemed to be staying out of the line of fire and giving a lot of orders lately. Santos rode silently alongside, favoring one shoulder and keeping his thoughts to himself. Caleb glanced sideways, then reined his horse to a halt. Santos reined in and gave him a questioning look. Caleb started to suggest that they retrace their steps to confront Jack, but thought better of it. He shrugged. “Let’s swing out a little wider and come in from a different angle” he said. “We’ve come in the same way every time.” Santos merely nodded, and they pushed their horses a little north, cutting a wider swath to the north before entering the Randolph ranch.

  Kate rode against the timberline, working her way toward the cave where Chance had taken her after her confrontation with Red and Yates. It seemed like a very long time ago, though it had happened earlier this same summer. She felt like she had aged several years since that morning. She worked along the bank of the creek that fed the high pasture, knowing it would eventually lead her to the trail up into the cave.

  Sam had been a little quiet this morning. She had sensed that he didn’t think this was a good idea, but had done as promised, escorting her to the top of their property and seeing her off. She had, in return, promised him to come back to the ranch house directly if she failed to find Chance at the cave. Stopping to water her horse, she remembered Sam’s admonition to be extremely cautious, so she crossed the stream to the edge of the trees, working along the extreme northern rim of the ranch. She watched for tracks. She could see the fence now, separating the Randolph ranch from the Carson ranch, and she searched the ground to her left, eventually picking up the trail that would lead her to Chance’s cave.

  There were fresh tracks on the trail, and she could see that the tracks lead in both directions, implying that someone had come and gone from the cave. Kate dismounted and led her horse into the thickening tree line, watching the trail and processing what she should do next. The most likely thing was that those tracks belonged to Chance’s horse, since he’d told Mike he was coming to the cave. But the tracks implied that he had come and gone. Should she follow the tracks down the hill toward the ranch, or go on up and check the cave? And what if the tracks hadn’t been left by Chance?

  Finally she made her decision and led her horse up the trail toward the cave, moving slowly and watching her back trail as she went. The landmarks were no longer familiar in her mind, and the tracks seem to fade out as she worked her way up. Possibly Chance (or whoever it was) had stopped to cover his tracks at a certain point. She stopped to check another cave as she went, realizing that the landmarks were no longer fresh in her mind. The sun was beginning to work its way overhead when she finally came upon what she was looking for.

  Kate tied her horse to a tree behind the cave, then worked her way noiselessly upward, watching for leaves and dead branches as she made her way forward. She paused beside the entrance, pistol in hand, listening for any noises coming from inside. She heard none. Finally she stepped into the mouth of the cave, gun pointing at various spots inside the space as she kept one wall at her back and let her eyes get accustomed to the gloom. The cave was empty. She kept the gun at her side as she explored inside. There was a bedroll on the floor, along with a few cooking utensils near a recent fire. It looked as though Chance might have spent the night.

  After a search at the back, she walked forward to the entrance and pondered her next move. Chance was still by himself out there, against possibly three gunmen. She started toward her horse, but then retraced her steps into the cave. The Henry rifle lay against the back wall, with a box of ammunition nearby. She picked up both the rifle and ammunition, then headed out to her horse. She would follow Chance’s trail down the hill.

  Jack Carson kicked at the dying fire in the fireplace and then threw the last of his coffee on the sputtering flames. They flickered briefly and went out. He wore his perpetual scowl as he stared into the glowing embers and pondered the situation. The Randolphs, besides father and daughter, seemed to have two able guns on their side. He knew one to be the saloonkeeper Sam, whom he grudgingly acknowledged to be a salty old cuss. The other was probably his nephew. The supposed help coming from his cousin in Mora hadn’t arrived yesterday, so he couldn’t count on it. That meant they were outnumbered, and he never liked to be outnumbered, unless maybe he could attack from ambush.

  He turned and walked out of the house, mounting up and turning his horse toward the Randolph ranch. He’d sent his brother and Santos ahead. If they used their heads, they could take up a position near the ranch house over there without getting shot. Not that he was terribly worried about it. Santos was an expendable gun. Caleb was his brother, but they’d fought from the time they were kids and Jack was ready to move on by himself. First, though, someone needed to pay for the death of his little brother Yates. Jack moved toward the Randolph property, but then changed his mind and decided to loop to the north and come in from the far side of the Randolph house. They’d never taken that route. He swung the horse in a more northerly direction and moved out.

  I’d gotten a later start than I’d wanted to. The sun was beginning to climb overhead as I walked Archie down the trail, looking for any tracks other than mine and wondering how to flush the Carsons out into the open. When I reached the stream bordering the high pasture and stopped to water Archie, I got down and refilled my canteen. I knelt beside the stream, running my eye down the fence separating the two ranches. There was no movement to be seen this morning. I wondered if the Carsons had already taken up a position near the Randolph house.

  I decided to work my way over toward the Carson property, staying in the trees and keeping an eye on their pasture. I knew if I climbed the hill a little I would reach a point where the fence ended and I could cross without cutting the wire. I took the reins in one hand and walked forward, leading Archie through the woods. When I reached the end of the fence line I swung around it and eased onto the Carson land. I could hear nothing other than the occasional sound of Archie’s hooves scraping a rock.


  Suddenly a small movement caught my eye. I peered through the trees and saw a single rider, mounted and scanning the pasture below him with binoculars. He seemed completely occupied with watching the open field below him. I tied Archie and came through the trees toward him, my right hand resting just above the holster. He saw me and started to swing his horse, but I pulled the Colt halfway from the holster and held up my left hand. “Hold it there.” He stopped the horse and kept both hands in view on the horse’s neck. “Get down” I told him. “Slowly.”

  He did as I said, but when he’d dismounted, movement on my left caught my eye and another man stepped out from the trees, a small smile on his face. Too late, I realized they had seen me first and set a trap. I reproached myself in my mind for not seeing it sooner. Too late now. The one on the right took a couple paces forward. “I’m Caleb Carson” he said. “You’re trespassing on my land. We might just have to do something about that. Who are you?”

  I glanced over at the one on my left. He was holding his ground so far. I swung back to concentrate on the other one. His name was Carson, which meant he was my priority. “Chance Reilly” I told him. The muscles around his eyes tightened. “Chance Reilly? You murdered my little brother.” “No,” I said mildly. “It was a fair fight. He had a chance to back away.” His eyes hardened and his right hand moved almost imperceptibly toward his gun. The one on my left began to move slightly farther to the left. I would be impossibly flanked within a few seconds.