They Came to Kill

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “Thought about shootin’ him but figured I might as well save the bullet,” Preacher said. “Thought about keepin’ him alive and tryin’ to question him, too, but then decided it’d be a waste of time. Likely he never would’ve done anything ’cept maybe spit in my eye.”

  “Umm,” Nighthawk said.

  “Our friend concurs,” Audie said. “We should check the other two, although they certainly appear to be deceased.”

  Preacher did that, and just as expected, the other two Apaches were dead. “Maybe we should’ve let one of ’em get away,” he mused. “Jamie wants the ’Paches to know we’re here so they’ll come after us instead of us havin’ to hunt ’em all down. It’s mighty hard for me to leave an enemy still drawin’ breath, though. I ain’t in the habit of it.”

  “They’ll be aware of our presence soon enough,” Audie said. “I have no doubt of that.”

  Nighthawk added, “Umm,” and the former professor went on. “Yes, we’d better catch up with the others now. I’m sure they heard the shooting and are curious.”

  They left the Apaches where they had fallen but rounded up the ponies and drove them on ahead as they rode south again. Extra mounts might come in handy, although the Indian ponies were wild enough that they weren’t very reliable.

  The three men on horseback moved faster than the wagons could, so within an hour they came in sight of the rest of the party. Jamie had been watching for them and rode back to meet them.

  As he reined in, he said, “I’m glad to see that all three of you boys look to be all right. Those shots we heard must mean that you found some Apaches.”

  “They were up on that mesa watchin’ us, just like we thought they might be,” Preacher said.

  “Any of them get away?”

  “Nope. Not sure if that’s what you wanted, but that’s the way it played out.”

  Jamie nodded. “That’s all right. The farther we go, the more of them will be around. Today was just a start, like the one we ran into back at the canyon.”

  “That’s four down,” Preacher said. “No tellin’ how many more to go.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Chester Merrick had been driving the surveyors’ wagon all day while Noah Stuart sat beside him with a large pad of paper on his lap and made sketch after sketch of the landscape, marking every landmark for when it came time to create an actual map of the isolated territory.

  They came to a drop-off formed by a low, rugged escarpment that appeared to run for several miles in both directions. Preacher and Jamie, riding ahead, reached it first and reined in.

  “This looks like the Cap Rock over in Texas,” Jamie said. “Just not as high and rough.”

  “Don’t reckon the wagons’ll have any trouble handlin’ it,” Preacher commented as he leaned forward in his saddle. “I see several places where the slope’s gentle enough for them to get down there.”

  “And maybe a spring or something over that way,” Jamie said, pointing to the west. “I see a little bit of green, so there has to be some water.”

  “Dog and me’ll check it out,” the mountain man offered. He rode down the slope with the big cur trotting alongside him while Jamie turned his horse and waved an arm for the others to stop.

  “What is it?” Fletch asked as Jamie rode up to the lead wagon. “Another canyon?”

  “No, just a place where the ground drops off some,” Jamie explained. “It shouldn’t give us any trouble. Might be a good campsite down there. Preacher’s gone to have a look.”

  Noah Stuart jumped down from the wagon seat and walked ahead to the other wagon. He asked Jamie, “Are we stopping for the day?”

  “Maybe longer than that. We’re far enough south now that if this turns out to be a good location, we might go ahead and establish our main camp for a while.”

  Some of the men on horseback had moved in close enough to hear Jamie’s comments. Dog Brother grunted and said, “Good. It is time to kill Apaches.”

  “For once, the filthy savage and I agree,” Ramirez said with a cocky grin.

  Tennysee nodded. “It’s time we had us some good fightin’, all right, and that ain’t no joke.”

  “Wait here,” Jamie told him, then turned his horse back to the rimrock. As he peered down the slope, he spotted Preacher. The mountain man was already returning.

  “It’s a good spot, all right,” Preacher reported as he and Dog reached the top of the ridge. “A little waterhole with some grass around it for the mules and horses, even a few cottonwood trees. It’s between a couple of places where the ridge sticks out, but the rocks ain’t close enough on either side to hem in the camp. And the slope at the back ain’t so steep that the horses couldn’t climb it, although I don’t reckon it’d be easy to get the wagons up. Couldn’t move the wagons fast, anyway. But the upshot of it is, I don’t believe we’d be likely to get boxed in there, and I’m thinkin’ the water comes from underground somewhere, so it shouldn’t run dry.”

  “Sounds like we won’t find a better place,” Jamie said.

  “Not likely,” Preacher agreed. “Might be some just as good, but none better.”

  “And this one’s right here handy.” Jamie turned his head from side to side as he studied the terrain. “We can put a man at the top of the slope to stand guard, and one each on those little promontories you mentioned. The way to the south is wide open, so nobody’s liable to sneak up on us that way.”

  “That’ll mean leavin’ three men at the camp,” Preacher pointed out.

  Jamie nodded. “We can do that. There’ll be six men in camp, counting Fletch, Stuart, and Merrick, and we can split up the other twelve into two groups of six to scout for Apaches. I’ll take one and you take the other.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” the mountain man said. “We’d best go tell the others.”

  They turned their horses and rode to rejoin the group. It didn’t take long to explain that they would be making camp at the waterhole and likely would stay there for several days.

  Clementine was visibly relieved at the news. “Fletch and I have been on the move so much, for so long, that it’ll be nice to stay in one place for a while.”

  “We stayed in Santa Fe for several weeks,” Fletch pointed out to her.

  “Yes, but that was different. I was always worried that my brothers might show up.”

  Fletch grunted, looked over his shoulder, and said, “They still might. We don’t know where they are or what they’re doing. They could be on our trail right now.”

  “Or after everything that happened, they could have decided to turn around and go home.” Clementine didn’t sound as if she really believed that.

  Jamie knew that he didn’t.

  They drove the wagons down the ridge, with Fletch and Noah Stuart handling the reins, and then turned west toward the little oasis Preacher had found. When they got there, Jamie saw that the waterhole was about fifteen feet across. The water was clear enough that he could see the bottom, and it filled what appeared to be a natural sinkhole in the rock.

  When he knelt beside the little pool, scooped up water in his hand, and took a drink, he found that it was cool and sweet. The water was seeping up from one of the underground streams that could be found even in the desert.

  Before letting the horses and mules at it, the men filled canteens and topped off the water barrels, pausing to drink deeply themselves. Some plunged their heads into the cool water, straightening to shake their heads and sling drops from their soaked hair.

  As Pugh approached the waterhole, Edgerton said, “Not you, mister. You’ll foul it for the rest of us even worse than the mules.”

  “I ain’t plannin’ on takin’ a bath in it,” Pugh replied.

  Ramirez laughed. “Good! I’m not sure there is enough water in the world to rid you of your stench, señor.”

  “Hold on,” Deadlead said. “Pugh’s our friend, so we can talk that way about him, but I ain’t sure I cotton to you doin’ it, mister.”

  Ramirez sneered
at him. “If you are offended, señor, you know what to do about it.”

  Deadlead tensed. He was good with a gun himself, and he didn’t like that arrogant challenge.

  “Hold on,” Jamie snapped. “How many times do I have to tell you fellas we’re here to fight Apaches, not each other?”

  Pugh said, “It’s all right. I don’t want nobody squabblin’ on my account. And like I said, I ain’t figurin’ on takin’ a bath or nothin’. I’ll just fill my canteen.”

  He did so while Deadlead and several of the other old mountain men glared at Ramirez, who ignored them.

  The gunfighter wasn’t through stirring up trouble. He sidled over to Clementine and said, “Perhaps this pool is large enough that you could have an uninterrupted swim in it this time, señorita. I mean, Señora Wylie.”

  “You need to stop making that mistake,” Clementine told him sharply. “I’m a married woman, and I don’t believe you actually keep forgetting that.”

  Ramirez shrugged eloquently and said, “Perhaps it is just that I know when a woman is saddled with a man who does not deserve her.”

  Kneeling beside the waterhole, filling a canteen, Fletch heard him even though Ramirez hadn’t spoken loudly. Fletch looked up quickly with an angry scowl on his face. “Hey!” he said as he came to his feet. “You can’t talk to my wife like that, and I don’t appreciate you talking about me that way, either.”

  Ramirez gave him a cool, contemptuous glance. “You believe that I care what you appreciate or not, Wylie? Why would I do that?”

  Jamie saw the way Fletch stiffened and could tell the young man was about to lose his temper. Before that could happen, Jamie allowed his own anger to boil over. “By the great horn spoon, Ramirez!” he bellowed as his big left hand fell on the gunfighter’s shoulder. He hauled Ramirez around and gave him a shove that made him stagger several steps backward.

  Ramirez caught his balance and his hands darted toward his guns.

  Jamie waited until Ramirez started his draw, but he cleared leather first anyway. Ramirez’s guns were barely out of their holsters and still pointed at the ground when Jamie’s Walker lined up on the Mexican’s face and the hammer clicked back.

  “I’m sick and tired of you trying to start a ruckus, mister,” Jamie said in a flat, hard voice. “I started out thinking we needed every man we had, but now I’m not so sure you’re worth it. You just go ahead and tip those hoglegs up if you want to. Won’t bother me a bit to squeeze the trigger.”

  For a second, it seemed that Ramirez was going to go ahead and try it. He had no chance of beating Jamie, but he might believe he could get off a shot or two before he died.

  But then, with another eloquent shrug, he let the guns slide back into their holsters. “I am no fool, Señor MacCallister. And I am patient. I can wait for a better time.”

  “You give me your word that so-called better time won’t come until after we’re finished with the job that brought us here?” Jamie cocked his head a little to the side. “Or should I just go ahead and put a bullet through your brain right now? With all the other trouble I have to keep an eye out for, I don’t feel like watching over my shoulder for you, too, mister.”

  Ramirez’s lips thinned. After a couple of seconds, he said in a voice that showed the strain of keeping his hot-blooded emotions under control, “I give you my word, MacCallister. You will have no more trouble from me until we are done with the Apaches.”

  Jamie studied him, narrow-eyed, for a moment before he carefully lowered the Walker’s hammer. “All right,” he said as he pouched the iron. “I’ll accept your word, Ramirez. And if I get even a hint that you’re not going to keep it, I’ll go ahead and kill you right then, no questions asked.”

  Preacher added, “And if you make me even a mite suspicious, I’ll kill you, too. I ain’t as patient as Jamie here.” He paused. “One more thing. Keep your distance from Miz Wylie and don’t talk to her less’n you got a good reason, too. Comprende?”

  “I understand,” Ramirez said. His gaze flicked toward Fletch and Clementine for a second. “But my opinions are still my own.”

  “As long as we don’t have to listen to them,” Jamie said, “and these two young folks don’t, either.”

  Stone-faced, Ramirez turned away. He went to his horse, got his canteen, and walked over to the waterhole to fill it. After a moment, the hubbub of making camp resumed, although at a more subdued level than earlier.

  Smiling a little, Preacher said quietly to Jamie, “Ol’ Ramirez looked plumb surprised when he saw the way you outdrew him. You’d figure that even down yonder in Mexico, a pistolero like him would’ve heard about how slick on the draw Jamie Ian MacCallister is.”

  “Well, I won’t be taking him by surprise again,” Jamie said. “I don’t believe he’s the sort to do any back-shooting—no fame or glory in that—but I don’t think he’ll forget what just happened here. Sooner or later, I may have to face him.”

  “Yeah,” Preacher said, “unless Dog Brother kills him first. Or them ’Paches wipe us all out.”

  Jamie chuckled. “Yeah,” he said with a note of grim humor in his voice. “Maybe we’ll be lucky.”

  CHAPTER 26

  They had a cold camp that night, which caused some grumbling about the lack of hot food and coffee. Despite the fact that Jamie wanted the Apaches to know they were in the vicinity, he didn’t believe it was wise for them to draw too much attention to themselves just yet.

  “I think it would be a good idea for us to have a better look around first,” was all he said by way of explanation. He wasn’t in the habit of justifying his decisions or actions.

  Guards were posted at the three spots he had mentioned to Preacher. The guard shifts rotated among the experienced fighters. Fletch and Noah Stuart had both volunteered to stand watch, but Jamie told them it wasn’t necessary. To spare their feelings, he didn’t go into detail, but he just didn’t have the confidence in them that was necessary to assign them to a job where the lives of the entire group might be in their hands.

  The next morning, Clementine kindled a small fire to prepare breakfast.

  While the group was eating, Jamie announced, “Greybull, Pugh, Dupre, the three of you are going to stay here in camp today while the rest of us do some scouting. I don’t want any complaints about missing out on the action, because somebody else will be staying here tomorrow. Besides, we may not run into any trouble today at all.”

  “I suppose we were chosen at random?” Dupre asked.

  “That’s right,” Jamie replied with a nod.

  Actually, he had picked the three mountain men for what he believed to be a good reason. They were three of the oldest and steadiest in the bunch. They could be trusted to remain alert and not pick any fights with Fletch or pay any undue attention to Clementine. On this first day at the main camp, that was what Jamie wanted.

  He had devoted considerable thought to how he was going to split up the group and had discussed the matter with Preacher. They’d agreed that Ramirez and Dog Brother couldn’t be trusted to be in the same scouting party. There was too much chance of trouble between them.

  “I’ll take Ramirez with me,” Preacher had said. “He’s already got a grudge against you because of the way you showed him up. Besides, I’ll have Audie and Nighthawk with me, and those two won’t tolerate any shenanigans. And if it’s all right with you, I’ll take them two Scandahoovian brothers with me. Them and Nighthawk have become pretty good friends.”

  Jamie had grinned at that. “With those three along, none of the rest of you will be able to get a word in edgewise.”

  “Oh, we’ll manage, I reckon. That leaves you with Dog Brother, Edgerton, Powder Pete, Tennysee, and Deadlead, who’s carryin’ a little grudge against Ramirez, too.”

  “That’ll work. I’ll go east along this escarpment for a ways with my bunch and then cut south. You head west and do the same.”

  Preacher had nodded his agreement with that plan.

  After telling who
would be remaining in camp, Jamie announced who would be going with him and who would be part of Preacher’s scouting party.

  Edgerton asked, “If we run into any Apaches, do we fight or do we try to avoid them?”

  “We didn’t come all the way down here to duck trouble,” Jamie said. “If the odds aren’t too high against us, we’ll fight.”

  Satisfied looks appeared on the faces of most of the men. Several of them nodded in emphatic agreement.

  After breakfast, Noah Stuart went over to Jamie and asked, “Are Chester and I supposed to stay here in camp today?”

  “It’s too dangerous for you fellas to be out roaming around on your own.”

  “Isn’t it also dangerous just to be in this region?”

  “It is,” Jamie admitted. “We all knew that before we started down here. But the Wylies can fight, and I know from what happened back in Santa Fe with Clementine’s brothers that you’ve got some sand. Greybull, Pugh, and Dupre have a lot of experience at staying alive. Unless a mighty big war party happens along, you should be all right.”

  “I hoped to set up my instruments and actually take some readings today, as well as doing some more preliminary cartographic work.”

  “Mapmaking, you mean.”

  “That’s right,” Stuart said.

  “Like I told you before, we’ll probably be shifting camp in a few days. Maybe you can do some of your work then.”

  As a matter of fact, Jamie wasn’t convinced that they would need another base camp. They might not be able to find one as good as this. It all depended on how much luck they had finding the Apaches they were supposed to drive out of the territory. Whether or not Noah Stuart and Chester Merrick would be able to carry out their jobs didn’t really matter that much to him.

  “All right,” Stuart said with obvious reluctance. “I’d like to explore this escarpment and do some more sketching, though, if there’s ever time for something like that.”

  “We’ll see,” Jamie said.

  A short time later, the two groups of men who would be leaving mounted up. They were taking enough supplies with them for a couple of days, because it was impossible to predict what they might encounter. They might get involved in a running battle with the Apaches and have to stay out that long.