“Perhaps on top of us, as well,” Rachel said.
“Perhaps,” said Trinity, “but is that any worse than being used as whores, only to die later, when they’re tired of us?”
“You’re right,” Rachel sighed. “When do we start?”
Suddenly there was a distant shot.
“That answers your question,” said Trinity. “Listen. Perhaps we can hear a little of anything that’s said.”
They listened, and while they could hear nothing from the Texans, they could hear the outlaw leader as he laid down an ultimatum.
“Ride off and leave them wagons,” Russ shouted, “and we’ll let the women go. If you don’t, we’ll have our fun with the girls, and then we’ll take the wagons. We got three men to your one. You got maybe an hour, until the sun is noon-high.”
The two sentries, having fired a warning shot, had withdrawn to the cabin. Mac, Red, Haze, and Buck had reined up just out of rifle range. It was Mac who responded to the outlaw ultimatum.
“Turn the women loose, and then we’ll talk.”
“Go to hell,” Russ shouted. “They’re our ace in the hole. You got maybe an hour.”
“Damn,” Red grunted, “they got an open field of fire, with protection at the flanks and behind. How in thunder do we get to ’em?”
“That open field of fire could be used against them,” said Mac, “if we could somehow drive them out of that cabin. I can see at least two chimneys, both showin’ smoke. If one of us could get to the cabin roof, we could plug the chimneys and smoke ’em out. Get ’em out in the open, and we can cut ’em down from the canyon rims.”
“The rest of you circle around to the rims and get as close to the cabin as you can,” Red said. “Usin’ a lariat, I’ll try to swing down to the roof of the cabin and block one or both chimneys.”
“It’s our only chance,” said Mac.
Inside the cabin, the women were making their own desperate move.
“We’ll fire the outside wall first,” Trinity said. “Perhaps the fire will eat through it before our time runs out.”
“We could pile these straw ticks against the door and burn it down,” said Elizabeth.
“We could,” Trinity agreed, “but it would almost immediately attract the attention of the outlaws. Starting with this outer wall, we could have an entire side of the cabin afire before they discover it. We must create enough of a distraction to take their minds off us and to force them into the open.”
The logs were powder-dry, with resinous knots, but the flames seemed to move painfully slow. Ripping open one of the ticks, the women stuffed straw into cracks where log ends touched the chimney. There the fire took hold more readily, and flames quickly swept toward the shake roof. Partially sheltered by the canyon overhang, the shakes caught, and the flames soon burst through the roof. Burning debris began raining into the room, and the four frightened women stood with their backs to the barred door. While the renegades were unaware of their peril, Mac and his Texas companions were on the canyon rims, and trying desperately to reach the roof of the cabin.
“By God,” said Mac, “That’ll drive the outlaws out, but before we can deal with them, those women will be fried to a crisp.”
“It’s got to be the women who started that fire,” Haze said. “That part of the roof that’s afire may be right over their heads. When it’s burned enough of it away . . .”
“Knot a couple of those lariats together,” said Red, “and lower me to that roof. I’ll take an extra rope with me, and lift them out of there. It’ll be up to the rest of you to haul them up here.”
“We’re fighting against time,” Buck said. “That roof’s gettin’ weaker by the second, and your weight may drop you right on through.”
“I’ll risk it,” said Red.
“So will I,” Mac replied.
“No,” said Red. “The longest haul is from the roof up here. It’ll take all of you at this end of the rope.”
“We’ll knot this end of the rope to a saddle horn,” Haze said.
Quickly, Red looped the end of the rope under his arms, and they lowered him toward the roof of the flaming cabin. Some of the outer wall remained, and Red perched on those logs that hadn’t burned. He could see the frightened women, their backs against the door, as flaming shingles rained down from the burning roof. From his precarious perch on the log wall, he could never rescue them in time. They must be lifted directly from where they stood to the canyon rim. Quickly Red knotted the third lariat to the two that extended from the canyon rim. In the loose end, he made a loop that must go under the arms. Such a lift would be painful, and cause rope burns, but there was no other way. The women had seen Red, and lifted their arms in a desperate, silent appeal. There was enough length to the lariat for Red to throw it, and he did. It went over Hattie’s head, and she quickly snugged it under her arms. Red waved his hat to his companions above, gritting his teeth as they lifted the girl off her feet. He knew what the rope was doing to her breasts, her back, and shoulders. It seemed a painfully long time until Hattie was safe and the rope was lowered a second time. More of the roof collapsed, flaming fragments raining down on the helpless women below. Trinity was the last to be lifted to freedom, but time had run out.
“Thunderation,” one of the outlaws bawled, “the whole damn place is afire.”
The lariats were dropped for the last time. Red slipped the loop over his head, under his arms, and snugged it tight. The outlaws slammed the door open to the burned-out room where the women had been imprisoned. Red shot two of them, but a third fired, and a slug flung the Texan off the wall. But his comrades from above had taken up the slack, and Red was lifted to safety.
“My God,” cried Hattie, kneeling beside Red, “he’s dead.”
“Not quite,” said Mac, “but he’s hard hit. The hell of it is, we can’t take him or any of you back to camp, until we discourage those renegades. Sorry about your clothes, but there’s blankets in our bedrolls.”
“Damn the blankets,” Trinity said. “I’m burned in so many places, I couldn’t stand for anything to touch me. Get me a gun.”
“Take Red’s,” said Mac.
“All of you have revolvers and rifles,” Hattie said, “and you can’t use both at the same time. Let us have the one you aren’t using, and let’s shoot some renegades.”
The outlaws had left the burning cabin, rescuing their clothing and saddles, but were perfect targets from the canyon rim. Trinity, Mac, Buck, and Haze fired Winchesters, and Hattie, Rachel, and Elizabeth cut loose with Colts.
CHAPTER 5
The renegades, shaken by the burning of the cabin, were without cover. The range was close enough for revolvers, and the women proved themselves accurate. Besides the two Red had shot, a dozen more of the outlaws were gunned down. While some were only wounded, their wounds were sufficient to take them out of the fight. Those who were able leaped on their horses without saddles and rode for their lives. Wounded comrades were left to shift for themselves.
“We ought to put them that’s wounded out of their misery,” said Haze.
“Leave ’em lay,” Mac said. “There’s only three, and if they’re shot up so they’re not able to ride, they won’t survive. We have to get Red back to camp and see to his wound.”
“Before we go,” said Trinity, “I’d like one of those blankets. My modesty’s gone forever, but the wind’s cold, and I’m freezing.”
“Just old Red’s luck,” Buck said. “Four beautiful ladies jaybird naked, and he’s out of it with a gunshot wound.”
“He saw us first,” said Trinity, “and I think he was as shocked to see us as we were to see him. He shot two of those men, and I think he could have shot the one who shot him if he hadn’t been distracted by us.”
“I can’t fault him for that,” Mac said. “You ladies are downright distracting.”
“Now that you’ve all had a good look,” said Hattie, through chattering teeth, “can’t we get those blankets?”
&nbs
p; “Yes,” Mac said. “Haze, you and Buck loosen the bedrolls and get those blankets. Save one for Red, too. I’ll see how hard he’s been hit.”
Mac knelt over his friend and felt for a pulse. It was steady but weak. He breathed a sigh of relief when he opened Red’s shirt, for the wound was high up. Serious enough, but the lead hadn’t struck anything vital. Hattie, a blanket draped about her and concern in her eyes, knelt beside Mac.
“He was hit high up,” Mac said, “so there’s likely no internal damage. He’ll make it, if we get him back to camp, disinfect the wound, and keep him warm.”
“Put him in our wagon,” said Hattie. “What he did was magnificent.”
“No more magnificent than what you ladies did,” Mac replied. “If you hadn’t set that place afire, some of us—and maybe some of you—would have been killed. There were too many of them, and they’d have been shooting from cover.”
“The fire was Trinity’s idea,” said Hattie. “The rest of us went along, because we’d have preferred being burned alive to being used by that bunch of brutes.”
Haze and Buck led the horses. Trinity, Rachel, and Elizabeth, draped with blankets, followed.
“One of you ladies will have to ride Red’s horse,” Mac said. “You’ll have to set far back in the saddle and hold him in front of you.”
“I’ll do it,” said Hattie.
“I’ll help you to mount,” Mac said, “and then we’ll lay Red across in front of you. It’s a poor way for a man to ride, but the only way to keep him on the horse. We’ll take it slow, so we don’t jounce him around too much.”
“It’s not easy, wearing a blanket and straddling a horse,” said Hattie, as the troublesome blanket rode up above her thighs.
Quickly the other women were lifted astride the horses and the men mounted behind them. They set out toward camp, riding along the rim of the canyon. The cabin was in ashes, and the few tendrils of smoke were whipped away by the wind. The three renegades lay where they had fallen, unmoving.
“Will those who escaped leave us alone?” Trinity asked.
“Maybe,” said Mac, who held her in front of him. “It depends on whether or not we killed the segundo. As far as we know, Red killed two, and those three there in the canyon are done for. Nine of those who rode away were hit. If they’re hurt badly enough, and if the leader of the outfit is dead or wounded, we may be able to travel beyond their reach before they’re able to regroup. But we can’t count on that. We’ll have to be damned careful. That means no more wandering away alone, for any reason.”
“If we ever take another bath, or even go to the bushes,” Hattie said, “one of you—or maybe all of you—will have to go with us.”
Buck Prinz laughed. “It’ll be our pleasure.”
They rode slowly, for the sake of the wounded Red and the women. Mac regarded the four of them with more appreciation than he had at any time since leaving Dodge. They all had their faces, arms, hands, and bodies smudged with soot, and their hair was ragged and matted, tufts of it having been burned away.
“After what we’ve all been through,” said Elizabeth, “I know this is going to sound awfully unwelcome, but we must wash ourselves.”
“I reckon you do,” Mac agreed. “You can use that same pool where you were before.”
“I won’t feel safe there,” said Hattie. “You’re not going to leave us alone?”
“No,” Mac replied. “We’ll stand watch. As improper as it seems, we can’t afford the risk of leaving you alone.”
“I don’t see anything improper about it,” said Trinity, “after what we’ve all endured. I feel like a plucked chicken, passed through the fire and ready for the dinner table. No man has ever seen me in such a mess, and a week ago I’d have swooned at the very thought of it.”
“We all would have,” Hattie added. “We’re changing, adapting to a much harder life than any of us has ever experienced. Would any of us ever have left Kansas City, had we known we’d be dragged naked into a cabin full of outlaws, and then lifted up the side of a cliff at the end of a rope?”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” said Rachel, “but that rope may have scarred me for life in some important places. From the waist up, I’m so sore I can barely breathe.”
“Sorry about the rope,” Buck said, “but we didn’t have any better way. There’ll be sulfur salve in the medicine chest for the rope burns, but you’ll just have to live with the soreness until it goes away.”
They reached the shallow end of their arroyo, reining up near the pool of water that had resulted from the runoff from the Cimarron.
“You ladies go ahead and wash up,” said Mac. “Haze and Buck will stay with you until I get back. I’m taking Red on into camp, and I’ll leave him in your wagon. I’ll have Port Guthrie put on some water to boil, so we can tend to Red’s wound.”
“Please bring us some salve for the rope burns,” said Trinity.
Mac walked Red’s horse on into camp. Concerned, Port Guthrie and the teamsters met him, every man armed with a Winchester.
“We was commencin’ to worry about you hombres,” Guthrie said. “Is Red—”
“No,” said Mac. “Wounded, high up. Will one of you hang a pot of water over the fire, so we can tend the wound? We all came out of it alive, but the women are skinned up some. They need some salve from the medicine chest.”
“I’ve had considerable experience with gunshot wounds,” Guthrie said. “You want me to take care of Red?”
“I’d be obliged,” said Mac. “I’ll be back to help you.”
Mac returned to find all the women kneeling in the shallow pool, dousing themselves with water, passing around the soap.
“Here’s the salve,” Mac said, “when you’re ready for it.”
“I’m ready now,” said Trinity. “You can put some on my back. I . . . I suppose I’d best do the . . . front.”
She blushed and Mac laughed. “I reckon you had,” he said.
The wind had a bite to it, and the washing was done quickly. The women scrambled out of the water, and after salving their rope burns, hurriedly dressed.
“I’m going to see how Red is,” said Hattie.
The others weren’t far behind. The water was hot, and Guthrie was cleansing Red’s wound.
“The slug passed on through,” Guthrie said, “so it didn’t hurt nothin’ vital.”
“Maybe not,” said Red, who was conscious, “but it’s dealin’ me some misery.”
“I’ll give you a slug of laudanum, after I disinfect and bandage the wound,” Guthrie said. “Tonight will be the worst, and you can sleep through that.”
“I’m so glad you’re going to be all right,” said Hattie, kneeling beside Red. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”
“That’ll help a powerful lot,” Red replied. “Did all of us get out of it alive?”
“Yes,” said Mac, “thanks to you. Besides the two you shot, we plugged a dozen of those renegades, leavin’ three more dead.”
“You were magnificent,” Hattie said. “We owe our lives to you.”
She leaned over and kissed him just in time for Haze and Buck to witness it.
“Damn it,” said Buck, “next time, I get to shinny down the rope.”
“I wouldn’t count on them outlaws just ridin’ away and leavin’ us alone,” Red said.
“That ain’t your worry,” said Haze. “The rest of us will be watching careful, and if they pay us another visit, we’ll be ready for them.”
“I think we’ll stay here another day or two, until Red begins to heal,” Mac said.
“I reckon we’d have to do that, even if Red hadn’t been shot,” said Guthrie. “Most of the snow’s melted, but it’ll take two or three days of steady sun before we can move the wagons. Mud’s axle-deep.”
“We’ll be safer here than on the trail,” Haze said. “If those outlaws regroup and come after us, we’ll still be outgunned. We’ll need all the cover we can get.”
“Haze, you and Bu
ck come with me,” said Mac, “and we’ll drag in some more logs for wood.”
“In view of this outlaw threat,” said Port Guthrie, “do you aim for us to go on takin’ the mules to graze?”
“Tomorrow,” Mac said. “We’ll take them out at first light and bring them back in at noon. We can’t crawl in a hole and hide from those damn renegades.”
The renegades, shaken by the loss of their cabin and the deaths of their comrades, had reined up a dozen miles east of their old stronghold. Of the original gang, five were left dead or dying at the burned-out cabin, and five more would be dead before another day dawned. Of the remaining twelve, four were wounded, including Russ, the leader.
“Haw, haw,” one of the outlaws cackled, “four damn women and four bull-of-the-woods gun-throwers, an’ they chased us out like we was yellow dogs.”
“Shut up, Irvando,” Russ snarled. “We ain’t whipped. Even a damned ignorant Indian has sense enough to back off, once his medicine’s gone bad. We’ll camp here until we’ve buried our dead and our wounds have healed. Them of you that ain’t wounded, gather up some firewood and get some water on to boil.”
“Hell,” said Wilkerson, “them wagons will be long gone before we’re able to ride. It’s you, Chug, Gillis, an’ Taylor that’s wounded. There’s eight of us that’s ready, willin’ an’ able to go after them wagons right now. We can do that while the rest of you are layin’ around here doctorin’ one another.”
“Damn you, Wilkerson,” Russ gritted, “I ought to gut-shoot you. I’m boss of this outfit, and we ride when I say. If you don’t like it my way, then you ride out alone, and don’t come back.”
Wilkerson laughed. “I’ll stay until I’m ready to ride out, and I ain’t ready yet.”
For a long moment Russ stood there, the left sleeve of his shirt bloody, his right hand near the butt of his Colt. His hard eyes met those of the remaining ten men, and when he spoke, it was in a savage growl, through gritted teeth.
The Winchester Run Page 8
