by Kurt Barker
As he bore down on the caboose, Blackshot spotted the bigger of the two deputies climbing up the ladder on the outside of the car. The deputy saw him too, and his eyes grew wide when he realized who it was. Struggling to hang onto the shaking ladder with one hand, he reached for the gun at his side. Blackshot pulled his feet from the stirrups and up onto the saddle as he crouched on the stallion's back like a coiled spring, then pounced onto the ladder, slamming into the deputy with all his weight.
“Surprise! I don't die that easy!” he hissed. “Not as easy as you!”
The man almost lost his grip on the rungs, but Blackshot's sinewy arm circled around the back of his neck and slung him against the ladder, mashing his nose against the iron bar. The stunned deputy reeled backward, blood streaming down his unshaven jaw, as he strove to break the iron grip around his neck. Blackshot gave him no time to recover, smashing his face against the side of the ladder once more, and then a third time.
The pistol slipped from the deputy's suddenly leaden fingers as he drew it from the holster, and it flashed in the afternoon sun as it skipped away across the receding tracks. As his other hand lost its hold on the ladder, Blackshot clamped his arm around his throat like a vise, crushing his windpipe with the relentless pressure. Finally he released him and the man fell, tumbling across the dusty ground as limp as a rag doll.
No sooner had he hit the dirt but Blackshot had hefted himself up to the top of the ladder and onto the roof of the caboose. There he saw Mariposa prone on her back with one arm pinned behind her back, lashing out furiously with the other against the remaining deputy, who was fighting just as hard to hold her down. The constant flood of profanities and threats of unthinkable violence issuing from both of them was almost comical, but Blackshot was in no laughing mood; he drew one of his Colts and slashed it across the side of the deputy's face, knocking him off Mariposa and splitting open his ear.
The man scrambled up onto his knees but Blackshot snatched him by the collar of his shirt and held him up with their faces only inches apart.
“Son of a bitch!” the deputy gasped as he recognized Blackshot. “You- you were dead!”
“I hope you didn't spend too much on my funeral,” Blackshot replied. “Where's Preston?”
“I dunno!”
“You really want to play that game with me?” Blackshot jabbed the barrel of the pistol into the man's cheek.
“Take it easy! He ain't here, dammit!”
“I didn't ask where he wasn't!”
“He's at the well, okay?! He's out there.... with them girls.”
“What's he done to do them? Talk!” The muzzle stabbed into the deputy's jaw again.
“Nothing! He ain't hurting 'em! He's waiting to see if they told him the truth about the money!”
“If he's laid one finger on those girls he'll wish he'd never been born!”
“Okay! Okay! I'll give him the message!” the deputy quailed.
Blackshot hoisted him to his feet and dragged him to the front of the caboose. “Don't trouble yourself. I'll deliver the message myself!” he growled, and with a mighty thrust he threw the man over the edge of the roof.
The deputy hurtled down between the cars and disappeared under the churning wheels of the train with a strangled cry. Blackshot returned to Mariposa who was still lying in the same position as before, her naked body stained with dirt and sweat. With a painful effort she pushed herself up onto one elbow and dabbed at her lips with her finger.
“Shit! Am I bleeding?” she winced.
“Not yet,” Blackshot replied, and swiped the back of his hand hard across her mouth.
The sharp blow knocked her onto her side and Blackshot lunged forward to grab her wrist as she tried to raise the pistol hidden behind her back. “Didn't think I would notice that the deputy's holster was empty, did you?” he grunted as he tore the gun from her hand and cast it off the side of the car.
He dragged the girl to her feet and led her to the ladder, stopping only to allow her to retrieve the bag of money before descending. Khamsin was still keeping pace with the train and Blackshot jumped into the saddle and pulled Mariposa down in front of him. They took off at a gallop toward Jubilation, leaving the train receding into the distance behind them.
“You've got to sleep sometime,” Mariposa glowered, clutching the carpet bag to her chest, “and when you do I'll make sure you never wake up again!”
“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Blackshot replied. “We've got miles to go before we sleep!”
Chapter 22
The sun was setting over the rooftops of Jubilation by the time they reached the outskirts of town. Blackshot took a winding route through the lanes and back roads, keeping away from the main street. A man riding with a naked woman was sure to attract attention and he wanted as little attention as possible right now.
“You're going to turn me in, aren't you?” Mariposa asked sullenly.
“Of course not.”
“When this is all over, I mean; you're gonna cash me in for a big reward!”
“You're only here because you and that money are going to help me get Ingrid and Molly out of Preston's hands,” Blackshot stated. “Once that's done, you're free to go. If I didn't need you for that, you could have been gone already for all I care.”
Mariposa was silent for a while, then spoke. “I wouldn't have left if I thought Preston was gonna hurt Ingrid and Molly.”
“That doesn't matter now.”
“It does fucking matter! You think I don't care about them, but I care a hell of a lot more than you do! Sure they took care of me, but I took care of them too! I'd never let anything happen to them!”
“Are you trying to convince me or you?”
“Fuck off! You think I can't see you're just in this for the money?! I don't believe all your bullshit; you're planning to hand me over to the law and keep the money for yourself!”
“Don't worry about that,” Blackshot replied as he pulled Khamsin to a stop behind a building. “If we do this right, there won'd be any law in this town to hand you over to.”
“What's this place?” Mariposa asked as Blackshot slid down from the saddle and helped her to the ground.
“Why, don't you recognize the august halls of journalistic purity known as the office of the Jubilation Herald? Well, this is the back door so I suppose I'll excuse your ignorance. Wait there a moment and don't try to run off if you don't want to end up in the obituary column.”
Mariposa didn't answer but stalked over to the wall where Blackshot had indicated and stood glaring at him. He went up to the door and tried the knob; it gave way and he pushed it open and looked in. Sam Marvin was sitting at one of the cluttered tables and his son was standing at the printing press near the back door.
“Hey Pop!” the boy called as he looked up and saw Blackshot.
“It's you again!” Marvin said as he stood up. “Black... Blackshot, wasn't it? What can I do for you?”
“Have you got a coat or a rain slicker handy?” Blackshot asked.
“Sure, I suppose I do. Why do you ask?”
“Do you want to trade it for the best story you've had in a year?”
Chapter 23
Sam Marvin wasted little time in retrieving an old faded duster from a hook on the side of an overladen shelf, and his son presented it to Blackshot.
“Thanks. I'll be back in a minute,” Blackshot said, and ducked out the door. He tossed the coat to Mariposa. “Here, it's no burlap sack, but make the best of it.”
“It's about damn time,” she grumbled as she wrapped the duster around herself. “It was a big joke to throw my clothes away, but you'll be laughing out the other side of your mouth if you try anything like that again.”
“Tut tut, always so grumpy. Come on in and meet the editor. He'll be happy as a pig in mud to meet such a famous folk hero as El Potro's sweet Mariposa.”
Mariposa didn't move. “What the hell are you trying to pull?” she demanded. “You've cooked up some sche
me to get me in trouble, haven't you? All the way over here you've been plotting against me! I knew it!”
“Come along, all that paranoia will give you gray hair before your time,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her through the door. In truth, the girl's voluptuous bare ass bouncing in his lap for the whole trip had made it difficult for Blackshot to scheme about anything, but there was no point in wasting time discussing such superfluities.
As soon as Mariposa came into the room, Sam Marvin's eyes grew so wide that Blackshot could see that introductions were unnecessary. “It's-- it's a pleasure to.... uh, it's a pleasure,” the old man stammered.
“Mariposa, meet Sam Marvin, editor of the Jubilation Herald,” Blackshot said, pushing her forward toward Marvin. “You're going to tell him your whole story, about El Potro and Viking Mike's wife and sister and Sheriff Preston and the whole damn payroll scheme, and you're going to do it in time for Mr. Marvin to get it into a special evening edition of the Herald.”
“Sheriff Preston?” Marvin inquired, “Is he mixed up in something dirty?”
“Don't ask me; there's your story,” Blackshot replied, pointing at Mariposa. “Maybe she'll even sit still long enough for you to finally get a picture of her that's fit to print.”
“Why should I tell this guy anything?” Mariposa snapped. “What's this about?”
“Insurance. That posse's going to get themselves together and come after us sooner or later and I want them to know that it's Preston they should be stringing up, not me.”
“Not us, you mean.”
“Oh, they'd string you up as soon as look at you regardless, so don't waste time arguing with me. The sooner you finish your interview, the sooner I can get you out of town.”
“Russ, get the press ready,” Marvin instructed the boy.
As Russ hurried to do as he was told, Sam Marvin fished an ink pen and paper from the mess on the desk and began to question Mariposa. Reluctantly the girl started relating the story of Calvin Preston's relationship with El Potro's gang while the old man scribbled furiously, barely able to contain his excitement. Blackshot had remained by the back door, and after a few minutes he stepped outside.
“Hey! Where are you going?!” Mariposa called.
“I have to run a few errands. You're going to need a horse-- and maybe some pants.”
Suddenly the girl jumped to her feet. “My bag! Where's my bag?!!”
“Easy, don't give yourself a heart attack,” Blackshot chuckled. “I put it right here inside the door.” He picked up the bag and held it open to display a sheaf of bills in its mouth. “See? Safe and sound.”
“Idiot! Do you have to show the whole world what's in it?! Give it to me!” She snatched the bag out of his hand and retreated into the room.
“That's the thanks I get for making you famous,” Blackshot laughed as he mounted his horse.
Chapter 24
The low-roofed house and barn were only black spots rising into the purple twilight from the dark floor of the valley. Blackshot could make out no movement around the buildings or the well from his vantage point among the rocks in the shadow of the cliff wall.
“He'll be nervous in there,” Mariposa said. She sat on the carpet bag with her elbows resting on her knees. “His lackeys should have been back with the money by now.”
“That's why we have to move quickly,” Blackshot replied. “I don't want him to make any rash decisions about what to do with Ingrid and Molly.”
“What's your plan?”
“We're going to sneak up to the back of the house and see if we can find out where Preston's holding the girls. Then we can figure out how to get them out of there and how to get the drop on Preston and his gang.”
Mariposa stood up. “You do the sneaking,” she said. “I'm riding up there and calling the bastard out.”
“Or maybe you'll just keep riding.”
“Fuck you! I told you I want to help my friends, and I'm doing it, see?! I'm trusting you not to turn me in, so you'll just have to trust me now!”
“Fair enough, but what's to stop Preston from shooting you on sight?”
“He tried that before and I'm still here. Look, he thinks you're dead, right? If I distract him you can get in there and rescue Ingrid and Molly, and he'll never see it coming. It's the best play we can make right now.”
Blackshot didn't like the idea, but he knew she was right. “Fine, then let's get moving,” he said.
Mariposa got up into the saddle of the red pony Blackshot had found for her, and spurred it on toward the well without a word. Blackshot set off on foot, running fast but staying low to the ground and keeping to the shadows as he homed in on the back of the little house. He could tell by the echoing of the hooves from across the valley that the girl was taking a wide looping course to give him time to reach their destination first.
As he neared the back of the house he began to detect movement from the front; Preston had heard the approaching horse and soon he would see that it was not who he was expecting. Blackshot reached the back wall and flattened himself against the boards, stealing along to the back window. He edged forward until he could just see around the window frame without revealing himself to anyone watching inside.
The room was dark, but illuminated faintly from a light in the main room, and he could make out its occupants. Against the wall opposite the window, Ingrid and Molly were sitting on the floor, their arms bound behind their backs. To Blackshot's relief, the girls appeared to be unharmed aside from a bruise on Molly's cheek; he could imagine the fiery redhead's reaction when she learned who “Gancho Chavez” really was. A large man in a dirty undershirt and jeans stood before them in the center of the small room with his pistol in his hand, his hulking body tensed for action as he heard a shouting voice from the well.
“Surprise, motherfucker! You thought you could double cross me again, did you?!” Mariposa's derisive cry carried through the thin walls of the house.
Her voice caused a rustle of excitement from the other occupants of the room, too. Ingrid began to whisper frantically to Molly, who was wide-eyed with fear.
“You're the double-crosser, bitch!” Sheriff Preston's livid voice boomed. “You all got what you deserved for cutting me out!”
“Cry me a fucking river, asshole! You want the money, do you? See? I got it right here!”
“Hand it over and I'll let your friends live-- I'll let you all go! It's as simple as that!”
The big man noticed the women's hushed conversation and took a step toward them. “Shut up, you two!” he barked. “I told you already that-”
Whatever he had told them before, he got no chance to repeat it, for in an instant later he was face-down onto the dirt floor with Blackshot atop him. The pistol was ripped violently from his hand, bending his fingers in unnatural angles. He would have cried out in pain but a boot heel crunching into his groin like a sledgehammer rendered him speechless. His hands groped at Blackshot's shirtfront but Blackshot brought the pistol down heavily across his skull, once and then again and again until the barrel was soaked red and the man moved no more.
“Chase me for it, limp dick!” Mariposa's shrill voice was punctuated by the thumping of hooves as her horse burst into a gallop.
As she rode away from the well Blackshot heard swearing and then Preston roared, “Stop her! Run the bitch down!” Within seconds several more horses were running past the house in pursuit, and then a gunshot rang out.
As Blackshot arose from atop the guard's lifeless body, he spotted a short-bladed knife stuck in the man's belt and pulled it out. He turned to where Ingrid and Molly sat staring at him, their eyes wide and faces drained of color, and held up a finger to his lips and showed them the knife. They took his meaning and scrambled to turn their backs to him so that he could reach their bound hands.
Blackshot knelt down behind Ingrid but before he had a chance to put the knife to the rope that held her wrists, a short man with a scarred face burst into the room with a s
hotgun in his hand. “Hey, Tony! Forget the sluts! We gotta get after that-” he called, stopping short as his eyes flew from the body of Tony on the floor to Blackshot and the girls.
“Shit!” he sputtered and swung the shotgun around, but Blackshot pounced up at him like a panther on his prey. The knife in his hand gouged through the man's throat, half severing his head from his body with the ferocity of the blow. Blood sprayed in wild patterns across the wall of the room as the man lurched against the door frame and the gun clattered onto the floor at his feet. Blackshot took him by his blood-soaked shirtfront and slung him to the ground beside the body of his fellow.
“Son of a bitch...” Molly gasped.
“My thoughts exactly,” Blackshot said as he cut the ropes that bound the girls' hands. He helped them to their feet and pointed to the window. “Get through that window and as soon as you're outside, start running. Go straight for the rocks and hide there until I come for you.”
“What are you going to do?” Ingrid asked as Molly clambered out the window.
“About Sister Grace?”
“You know whole story now, I guess. What's she doing out there?”
“A cat and mouse game, but don't worry about her; the rules of the game are about to change!”
Chapter 25
There was no one else in the house, and when Blackshot stepped out the door he saw no sign of anyone around the barn or the well either. He heard the running horses passing in the darkness, and a smile came to his lips; Mariposa was leading the chase in a big circle around the house. He ran out to the well just in time to see the last of the pursuing riders round the side of the barn.
The Colts flew into Blackshot's hands in a flash and he hammered out three quick shots at the streaking rider. The man's body jerked in the saddle and then tumbled off the back of the horse with blood streaming from his chest and side. Blackshot vaulted over his fallen form as he chased down the suddenly riderless and bewildered horse, snatching up it's reins before it could run away. In an instant he was in the saddle and digging his heels into the beast's flanks, driving it forward to join the chase.