by J. T. Edson
Hogue’s mistrust of Mexicans had caused them to disagree on the best way to handle the situation. So they had decided that Ruiz should try to gain access via the door, using a trick he had learned as a boy, while Hogue attempted to enter through the bedroom window. Once inside, they were to kill the girl and carry off every document that might prove her identity. After producing a ladder for Hogue and pointing out the window of Room Fourteen, Smith had left them to do their work.
The attempt had turned into a miserable fiasco. However, Smith’s superior had suggested a way by which they might still be able to carry out the orders. They could stop her reaching Counselor Talbot’s office later that morning. To avoid mistakes, Smith had arranged for the hotel’s desk clerk to direct the girl by a specific route to the lawyer’s office. The man had remained opposite the hotel and the clerk had signaled when the correct female left.
Although the Texan’s intervention had prevented them from doing more than steal the girl’s documents, The Outfit’s senior representative had insisted that the two men left Mulrooney without delay. He had promised that he would telegraph warning of any pursuit to Spatz’s way station. Knowing the penalty for disobeying The Outfit, Hogue and Ruiz had not argued. They felt that they had carried out their orders adequately, if not entirely. If Talbot followed Lawyer Endicott’s instructions, he would only tell the girl about the Rafter C when satisfied that she had the right to know about it. Somehow she had convinced the Mulrooney lawyer that she was Martha Jane Canary, and followed them accompanied by a man. Most likely he was the same fast-moving Texan who had saved her life.
It had been Hogue’s suggestion that they hire Spatz’s men to prevent the following pair from continuing the journey. Although harboring suspicions about the identity of the Texan, Ruiz had not argued the point. Now that the attempt had failed, the Mexican felt it was time that he take control of the situation.
“We’ll stop them,” Ruiz stated. “Not here and now, but on the trail.”
“You mean lay for ’em and down ’em as they ride by?”
“That would be chancy, they might escape. I think it is better that we wait until tonight. Then we’ll take them while they sleep.”
“Great!” Hogue sniffed, returning his rifle to its boot. “How do we find ’em when they’ve bedded down?”
The girl and her companion had disappeared into the way station’s main building, so the two men turned their horses.
“That will take some thought,” Ruiz admitted as they set the animals moving. “But it should not be beyond the ability of intelligent men like us. Let us figure that they will not be less than ninety minutes, or more than two-and-a-half hours behind us when they leave Silvers’. Then, toward sundown, we will look for places where riders about that far behind would make camp. After that, we find a high place close at hand and watch for them to come.”
“Like we done last night?” Hogue said coldly.
“No. We will be in position before night falls, so that we can see for sure where they camp. Riding relay, they will both be very tired. So we let them get soundly asleep and move in silently as ghosts. The man we must kill straight away, but it won’t sorrow me if we take the girl alive.”
“You’re a mean, horny devil, Otón,” Hogue grinned. “Only, what she did to your wedding-tackle in Mulrooney, I didn’t reckon you’d want her that way.”
Cold, savage evil played across the Mexican’s face and he reached involuntarily toward the place where Calamity’s knee had landed. Hard riding had done nothing to lessen the ache he felt.
“She will pay for that!” the Mexican promised.
Grinning at his companion, Hogue urged the bay gelding to a faster pace. Ruiz made the sabino equal it and they pushed on to the north through the rolling plains between the Plane and South Loup Rivers. Once again they kept a watch to the rear, but saw nothing of their pursuers. Neither spoke much during the journey. When the appointed time came, Ruiz suggested that they should start to look for possible places which might appeal to the other two as camp-sites.
For about a mile, no location struck them as being suitable. Then Ruiz reined in his sabino and pointed ahead.
“They won’t get much farther and will most likely camp somewhere down there.”
Following the direction indicated by his companion, Hogue nodded. At that point the stage-trail dipped into a valley. Crossing a stream in the middle, the wheel-ruts of the coaches turned upstream along the opposite bank. Although the other side of the valley had a covering of woods, its bottom was fairly open. The area would have considerable appeal for travelers who could not reach the way station on the South Loup by nightfall. It had good water and grazing for the horses, shelter and some protection against the elements.
“Could be,” Hogue grudgingly conceded. “There’s plenty of places where we can keep watch on the other side.”
“If we go right on to where the valley curves,” Ruiz remarked as they rode down the slope, “we will be able to see them no matter where they camp. Their fire will guide us back.”
“If they light one,” Hogue grunted, refusing to admit, even to himself, that the Mexican made right good sense. “They didn’t last night.”
“We didn’t see it last night,” Ruiz corrected patiently.
Keeping to the stage-trail so as to avoid leaving tracks that might attract unwanted curiosity, they reached the stream. After allowing the horses to drink, they pushed on along the valley. About a quarter of a mile after leaving the ford, Ruiz nodded to a hollow in the near-side slope. Fringed with bushes, its base offered a good-sized area of free ground.
“It’d be a good place to bed down,” Hogue agreed. “Happen they come this far, I’d bet this’s where they’ll pick.”
Continuing for almost another half a mile, they left the trail instead of following it around the curve. Riding up the incline through the trees, they reached the top and dismounted. After taking care of their horses, and making certain that the animals would not be seen from the bottom of the valley, the two men moved to a position from which they could watch the trail. They could not chance lighting a fire to cook food or brew coffee, a fact that increased the burly white man’s hatred of their pursuers. Hogue consoled himself with the thought that they would be able to make use of the other two’s property later that night.
About two hours after the two men had settled down on either side of a big old cottonwood tree’s trunk, with the sun sinking in the west, they saw the girl and Texan appear on the other side. Leading their reserve horses, they rode down the stage-trail. A savage grin twisted Ruiz’s lips at the sight. Clearly the pair suspected nothing, they were acting too casual and incautious for that.
With the horses watered, they crossed the stream. Riding toward the curve, they were looking about them. On drawing level with the mouth of the opening, the girl pointed to it and spoke to her companion. Apparently they shared the two men’s opinion of the spot, for they turned their horses toward it. Once they had entered the hollow, the couple passed out of the watchers’ range of vision. However, there was no way they could leave without being seen, so Hogue and Ruiz felt no concern.
“They’ve played into our hands, amigo,” Ruiz stated.
“We may’s well get some rest, then,” Hogue answered.
“You go. I’ll watch for a while,” Ruiz suggested.
Accepting his companion’s advice without argument, for once, Hogue backed off the rim. Ruiz watched for a short time longer. A movement among the trees caught his attention. Looking closer, he discovered it was caused by the girl as she moved about the slope above the hollow collecting firewood. Shortly after she had disappeared again, the Mexican saw the glow and smoke of a fire. Nodding his satisfaction, Ruiz withdrew and joined Hogue. They spread their blankets and settled down to rest.
At midnight, Ruiz stirred and sat up. Coming to his feet, he woke the other man. Hogue crawled from his blankets, cursing and scratching at his belly. Going to their horses, after folding t
heir bedrolls, they saddled up. When all was ready for their departure, Ruiz stood for a moment, testing the wind.
“It’s blowing along the valley, not across,” the Mexican decided. “We can take our horses closer.”
“Don’t see why not,” Hogue agreed. The wind would not carry their mounts’ scent to the animals in the hollow. “Let’s get going.”
Leading their horses, the two men went on foot along the rim. They took their bearings from the faint glow of red below. When almost directly above its source, they came to a halt under the low-hanging branches of a white oak. Dropping their split-ended reins was all that they needed to do to prevent the animals straying. Range-trained, their mounts would not try to roam while the reins dangled loose to catch the feet. Glancing at Ruiz, Hogue drew the rifle from his saddle-boot. The big man still remembered the bullet whizzing by his head as he had entered the alley behind the Railroad House. So he did not intend to take unnecessary chances with the girl. Recalling how the Texan had reacted to Smith’s attack, Ruiz nodded his approval and drew his own Winchester.
If their approach along the rim had been made carefully, it did not come close to the caution they showed as they descended the slope. Finding a game trail, they inched through the head-high bushes until they received their first view of their victims’ camp. Still in the shelter of the bushes, they studied the scene before them.
Although dying down, the fire threw a pool of light over the center of the clearing. The couple were camped sufficiently far in the open for the men to feel pleased that they had brought their rifles and did not need to rely on handguns. A movement near the mouth of the hollow drew the two men’s gaze. They saw the girl’s and Texan’s horses picketed close to the opening. Looking at the animals, Ruiz remembered something he had heard about Cabrito. His last doubts were wiped away. According to all the stories, the Ysabel Kid did not need to fasten up his white stallion; but left it free to act as a roving sentinel while he slept. The Texan’s white horse was fastened to a sapling not far from the other mounts.
“They’ve sure got themselves made comfortable,” Hogue whispered, diverting Ruiz’s thoughts from the horses.
Turning his eyes in the direction of the fire, the Mexican felt inclined to agree with his companion. Carefully he studied the blanket-covered figures lying at the edge of the lighted area. Although the three saddles formed an n-shaped shelter which hid the sleepers’ heads from the watchers, the outlines of their bodies showed plain enough beneath the blankets. From all appearances, they were bundling belly to belly and in each other’s arms. The young man’s back was toward Hogue and Ruiz, his shoulder exposed above the coverings and arm draped across the girl. Their boots stood by the foot of the temporary bed and their hats hung on the horns of the riding saddles. Hanging across the seats of the saddles, the two gun-belts were so positioned that the watchers could see the revolvers in their holsters.
“If we shoot him, the bullets will go through and kill the girl,” Ruiz warned Hogue in a soft voice.
“You’ll have to chance it,” the white man replied, no louder. Even as he spoke, they saw the sleeping Texan’s arm move a little. “Take them!”
Swinging up their rifles, they lined the sights. Two shots rang out at almost the same instant, lighting the night with their muzzle-blasts and slamming echoes along the valley. Through the whirling powder-smoke, Hogue and Ruiz watched the blankets agitate as the bullets ripped through into the back of the male sleeper. Although his body jerked under the impact, neither he nor the girl attempted to rise or even moved.
“Got ’em both, like I figured!” Hogue announced, working his rifle’s loading lever and striding from the bushes.
Following the white man, Ruiz fed another live round into his Winchester. As soon as they had made sure that the couple were dead, the Mexican planned to take care of the insulting gringo and be the only one of them to return to claim the rewards for their work.
Chapter 9 TAKE HIM ALIVE
“YOU RUINED MY SHIRT.”
Soft spoken, gentle almost, though they were, the words which came from the right of the advancing pair sounded charged with menace and bore a deadly warning. With sickening impact, Hogue and Ruiz knew that something had gone terribly wrong.
Turning his head in the direction of the speaker, Ruiz let out a savage snarl that combined anger with superstitious fear. Two figures had stepped from the bushes about thirty yards from where the would-be killers had come to a sudden halt. Dressed as she had been on the street in Mulrooney, except for her kepi and gunbelt being missing and moccasins instead of boots on her feet, the girl gripped a Winchester carbine ready for use.
Bare-headed, rifle in hands, the Texan wore all black clothing and had the face of a scalp-hunting Pehnane Dog Soldier. The bowie knife that usually rode on his gunbelt swung sheathed from his waistband.
“Cabrito!” Ruiz croaked.
The words jolted through the shock that had numbed Hogue into immobility. With a curse, he started to swing in the couple’s direction and whip the rifle to his shoulder. Throwing off his fears and thoughts on how the figure in the bed had moved its arm, Ruiz copied his companion’s move. Already the Kid’s Winchester was rising in a lightning-fast, smoothly flowing motion. His right eye squinted along the barrel as the butt settled into place. While Calamity was still raising the lighter carbine, the Kid squeezed his old yellow-boy’s trigger.
Once again gunfire illuminated and shattered the silence of the darkness. Twice in a second the Kid’s Winchester cracked, its lever blurring down then up between the shots so fast that the eye could barely follow the movements. Firing at such speed did not allow for a change in the point of aim. So, even as he turned loose his second bullet, the Kid was relying on Calamity to stop Ruiz shooting him. Both the girl’s and the Mexican’s weapons were lining and the Kid’s life hung in a very delicate balance.
Wanting a living prisoner whom they could question, the Kid had shot to wound rather than kill. Hogue was the faster of the pair to recover, so he received first attention. Both of the Kid’s bullets ripped into the right side of the burly man’s chest, spinning him around in a full circle. The rifle flew from Hogue’s hands and he stumbled in front of Ruiz just as the Mexican laid sights on the Kid. Unable to stop himself, Ruiz completed his pressure on the trigger. He saw flame lance from his rifle’s muzzle and a hole appear in the center of Hogue’s back.
The same accident that saved the Kid had a beneficial effect on Ruiz. A split second after the Mexican fired, Calamity’s carbine spoke. Meant for Ruiz, the bullet spiked into the center of the reeling white man’s chest. Yet the Mexican knew that he was far from out of the woods. Staggering on, Hogue collapsed face down and left his companion exposed to Calamity’s and the Kid’s weapons. Already the dark Texan had sent another bullet into his rifle’s chamber and was changing the direction in which its muzzle pointed.
Discarding his rifle as a useless encumbrance to his escape, Ruiz hurled himself toward the bushes. He moved just in time to avoid catching the Kid’s next bullet. Calamity’s carbine swung and spat. Jerking from his head, Ruiz’s sombrero spun away. When he did not fall or break stride, she knew that she had hit the hat but missed its wearer. Throwing her lever through its reloading cycle, she wondered why the Kid did not use his rifle to bring down the fleeing man.
“Watch that ’n’, gal!” the Kid barked, lowering the Winchester and laying it on the ground. “I’m going after the other. I want to take him alive.”
Before Calamity could debate the point, even if she had wished to do so, the Kid went racing into the bushes where Ruiz had already disappeared. Watching him go, Calamity gave a low hiss of anxiety. She hoped the Kid had not forgotten that he had only his bowie knife and Ruiz packed a revolver on his belt. Putting the thought from her mind, she turned her attention to the clearing. Alert for any hostile move on his part, she walked toward Hogue. There was no need for precautions. The Kid’s two bullets might not have killed him, but either of th
e others would have been fatal. If the Kid wanted somebody to answer questions, it would have to be the Mexican.
Crashing through the bushes, Ruiz went up the slope as fast as his legs would carry him. At any moment he expected to feel lead driving into his body, but it did not come. So he gave a thought to what would be his best line of action. Stopping to avenge Hogue never entered his head; his main aim as he ran was to save his own skin. If he could reach the horses and mount up, he stood a better than fair chance of making it. Fast though Cabrito’s white stallion was reputed to be, there would be a delay while he collected and freed it. During the time he spent doing it, Ruiz would be building up a lead. Using Hogue’s bay and his sabino to ride relay, he could press on fast, reach Hollick City and get help to deal with the Kid and the girl.
Having decided on what to do, he approached the horses. They still stood patiently under the white oak. Going between them, he grabbed hold of the bay’s reins in his right hand. Taking up the sabino’s reins in his left, he inserted his left foot into the stirrup, gripped the dinner-plate horn of his Mexican saddle in both hands and started to mount. Even as he swung himself astride, he heard the soft pad of rapidly approaching feet and remembered that, like the girl, the Kid had been wearing moccasins.
For all his advantage in footwear, the Kid had not been able to catch up with the fleeing Mexican on the slope. Seeing the man mounting, the Kid launched himself into the air. Reaching upward, his hands hooked over one of the tree’s lowest branches. With a surging swing, the Kid propelled himself at Ruiz. Two feet smashed into the Mexican’s shoulder. Barely mounted, Ruiz felt himself struck by the Kid’s flying body and tilted sideways. Startled by its rider’s unexpected behavior, the sabino lunged forward. Taken with the Kid’s attack, the motion unseated Ruiz. Unsettled by the disturbance, the bay followed the sabino. Missing its departing rump, the two men plunged to the ground.