No shots rang out as he followed the trail on through the badlands and emerged from them half an hour later to enter a wide stretch of flats that ran all the way to the base of the mountains. Not until then did he heave a sigh of relief.
As he rode on toward the Little Devils, he thought about the encounter with the Rurale patrol. They were a long way from La Farva, over in New Mexico Territory, which was the last place Almanzar and the giant Lopez had been seen.
At least, as far as Luke knew that was the last place the two surviving renegade Rurales had been. Maybe Almanzar and Lopez had crossed back over the border and headed for the Diablitos, thinking they would find sanctuary there. They could have been spotted somewhere along the way and reported to Lieutenant Sanchez. That made sense, Luke decided.
Of course, he might not ever have a full explanation, and if he didn’t that was just fine with him. As long as they didn’t interfere with his mission, the Rurales—good or bad—were no concern of his. He just wanted to find Kelly and Dog Eater.
He made a cold camp that night and pushed on toward the mountains the next morning. If nothing happened to delay him, he would reach them today, he mused as he rode toward the peaks. Then there would be the matter of locating the Don del Oro mine, which was supposed to be located at the head of a valley near the northern edge of the mountains, under a sawtooth peak that could be seen for miles.
Luke had spotted that sawtooth a couple days earlier and had been steering toward it ever since.
As he approached the mountains, he came across a pair of ancient ruts worn deeply into the ground. Reining in, he studied them and realized they were wagon ruts, etched into the earth by the iron-tired wheels of heavily loaded wagons passing along that route by the score. Loaded down with gold from the Don del Oro mine, Luke thought. It was the best indication yet that he was on the right trail.
If the man who had heard Kelly and Dog Eater mention the name hadn’t made a mistake about what they said . . . If they had actually been talking about the abandoned mine . . . If they were still there . . .
He would have answers to those questions soon, Luke told himself. All he had to do was keep moving.
He reached the foothills by midday and pressed on into the mountains. Close up, the peaks were more impressive than they had appeared from a distance. Even though they were considerably shorter than the Rockies, they still loomed massively over a man to make him feel small and insignificant.
With the sawtooth mountain as his guide, he found a valley that penetrated into the Little Devils range. Once some ancient river had run through there and carved out the valley, he thought, although the ground was rocky and dry now.
According to the old desert rat—and it was just hearsay, since he hadn’t been there but had heard about it from others—the mine was located at the head of the valley. If Kelly and Dog Eater were using it as their hideout, Luke couldn’t just ride up there. They might see him coming and ambush him.
After he had ridden a couple miles up the valley, he stopped to rest his horse in a jumble of rocks and trees and wait until nightfall before continuing. He even got a little sleep, which showed just how cool-nerved he really was.
Once it was dark, he moved on up the valley, taking it slow and easy. His pulse quickened when he spotted a light up ahead. Out in the mountain wilderness, miles from the nearest village, he took the faint glow as a good omen. It had to be manmade, and he told himself that the men who’d made it were the ones he was after.
The light grew stronger as he got closer. Luke dismounted, drew his rifle, and left the horse in a thicket of scrubby pine trees to steal forward on foot.
After a few minutes, he was able to make out the buildings of the abandoned mine. Time and the elements had taken a toll. A long adobe building that might have served as a barracks had partially collapsed. So had a smaller, squat structure set some distance away that had probably housed the powder magazine. But a house built of stone was still standing, not far from the black hole in the side of the mountain that marked the mouth of the mine shaft. The light glowed from a window.
The superintendent of the mine must have lived in that stone house, Luke thought.
The most alarming thing he saw was a sturdy pole corral that appeared to have been built fairly recently. The corral itself wasn’t what alarmed him, really, but the dozen horses inside it.
Kelly and Dog Eater had stolen horses from the ranch they had raided a day or so out of Rio Rojo, Luke recalled, but probably not that many. From the looks of it, several men besides the two outlaws were inside the house, making his job more complicated. Likely, they were the same sort of men as the ones he was after, and wouldn’t allow him to just waltz in and take Kelly and the Apache.
He was pondering his next move when the sound of hoofbeats in the night made him stiffen. A lot of horses were coming, and moving fast. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows under the trees where he had been spying on the mine as a group of riders swept past him. With a clatter of hooves, they rode up to the stone house.
“Señor Kelly! Señor Creighton!” one of the newcomers called.
Two things immediately struck Luke. One was the fact that the man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. He had heard it somewhere before, although he couldn’t place it. The other was a question. He wasn’t surprised to hear Kelly’s name, but who in blazes was Creighton?
More lights appeared as several men stepped out of the house. Luke spotted Gunner Kelly and Dog Eater standing in the middle of the group.
The rider who had called out stepped down from his saddle and moved into the light from lanterns carried by a couple men on the porch. The yellow glow reflected off the barrels of guns held by the men on horseback.
Luke’s jaw tightened as he realized why the man’s voice had been familiar. He was Captain Almanzar, the renegade Rurale officer. Luke looked carefully at the new arrivals and was able to pick out the hulking form of Lopez among the group of night riders.
“I have brought you something, señors,” Almanzar said in that preening, arrogant voice of his. “I came upon a patrol of my former comrades and thought you might like to question their officer. So we ambushed them.”
Almanzar turned and made a flicking gesture. Lopez dismounted and hauled something down from the back of his horse. Carelessly, he tossed the burden on the ground. It was a man’s body, and as he rolled onto his back so that the light shone on his face, Luke recognized the earnest features of the young lieutenant, Diego Sanchez.
“Several more of the dogs still live,” Almanzar went on. “I hope they might provide some entertainment for you, Señor Creighton.”
Luke got the biggest surprise of all then. The Apache warrior known as Dog Eater looked down at the captive Lieutenant Sanchez with a fierce, bloodthirsty smile on his face and said in an accent eerily reminiscent of Milton Dietrich’s, “Splendid, Captain. Absolutely splendid.”
CHAPTER 25
“Have Lopez bring the lieutenant inside,” Dog Eater—or rather—Creighton, as it appeared his name really was—went on. “The other prisoners can be placed in the old barracks. Part of it still has walls and a roof and is sturdy enough to contain them.”
Luke’s mind was reeling. Dog Eater didn’t sound like any Apache he had ever encountered. But there was no doubt in Luke’s mind that the man was the same one who had taken that shot at him back in Rio Rojo as the bank robbers made their escape. He never forgot the face of a man who tried to kill him.
Kelly spoke up. “What do you want with those Rurales?”
“They might have valuable information regarding how much the Mexican government knows about us,” Creighton replied. “Our plans pose a threat to it, you know.”
Kelly grunted. “I don’t reckon anybody in Mexico City has ever heard of us, at least not yet.”
“They will,” Creighton said. “When we take over all the territory along the border, they’ll know who we are. They’ll have to deal with us, because we’ll be the rulers
of this new empire. We won’t be a couple two-bit bank robbers anymore.”
The whole thing was loco, Luke thought, but it was starting to make a sort of cockeyed sense. Creighton, or Dog Eater, or whatever the hell his name was, had an ambitious streak.
Like everybody else whose trail had crossed that of Gunner Kelly and Dog Eater, Luke had assumed that Kelly was the boss of the pair. Clearly, though, Dog Eater was more than just Kelly’s sidekick. From the sound of it, he was the brains of the operation.
Luke wondered if he was actually an Apache.
Remaining concealed in the shadows, Luke watched as Lopez picked up Sanchez’s senseless form, threw it over his shoulder, and carried the officer into the house, following behind Kelly, Creighton, and Almanzar.
Luke turned his attention to the other new arrivals and the half dozen prisoners with them. The captives had their hands tied and were roped together, with the lead rope attached to one of the horses so that they had been forced to run along behind. Their ripped, bloodstained clothing indicated that they had fallen at least once and been dragged before regaining their feet.
Luke didn’t feel any real sympathy for the captive Rurales. Even Lieutenant Sanchez, who apparently was devoted to his duty, probably wasn’t as innocent as he acted.
But Luke still wanted to capture or kill the two men he had pursued, and since the odds against him had gone up, he needed some allies. He didn’t have to like those Rurales to get some use out of them.
The men who had ridden in with Almanzar and Lopez prodded the prisoners toward the old barracks. One of the men who had brought a lantern out of the house went with them. By its light, Luke got a look at the gang Kelly and Creighton had gathered. The outlaws were the usual motley mix of border trash from both sides of the line, some Mexican, some gringo, all hardened killers and thieves. They were plenty dangerous, all right, but not impressive in any other way.
And yet, judging by what Creighton had said, he intended to use them as an army to take over that part of Mexico. It wasn’t unheard of. There was always some tinpot dictator-in-the-making stirring up trouble in Mexico.
The thing of it was, from time to time, they were successful enough to challenge the government. If Creighton gathered enough followers and financed his efforts with the proceeds of the bank job in Rio Rojo and other robberies, there was no way of knowing what he might be able to accomplish.
That was another reason to stop him, Luke thought. He would be nipping a potential revolution in the bud.
Mainly, though, he just wanted another shot at the two bank robbers.
With that in mind, he waited until the prisoners had been marched into the barracks and the outlaws returned outside. A couple didn’t emerge from the building, and Luke supposed they had been left to guard the Rurales. The others unsaddled their horses and turned them into the corral. Then the men went into the stone house.
The old Don del Oro mine was quiet again.
Luke’s brain worked quickly. He couldn’t get to Kelly and Creighton as long as they were surrounded by nearly a dozen men. What he needed was a distraction to draw the others out of the house. The prisoners would provide that distraction if he could set them free. They would know they would be fighting for their lives.
Already, they knew they would be lucky if the outlaws simply executed them. It was more than likely they would be tortured to death in the name of sport.
With a plan of sorts in mind, Luke set out to circle around toward the old barracks.
He used every bit of cover and shadow he could find and moved with the stealth that had become part of him during his years of man hunting. There was a good chance none of the outlaws expected trouble in their stronghold. As far as they knew, no one else was aware that the abandoned mine was their hideout.
Luke reached the far side of the partially collapsed adobe building and knelt a couple feet from a large gap where part of the wall had fallen in. He listened and heard two men talking softly in Spanish. A smell slightly sweeter than that of regular tobacco drifted to his nose. He knew they were smoking hemp as they stood guard over the prisoners.
He took off his hat and edged his head into the gap to take a look. It was too dark to see anything, but he sensed the guards were close by.
He couldn’t just bust in there with guns blazing. That would alert the men in the house and ruin any chance he had of taking them by surprise. After thinking for a moment, he picked up a chunk of adobe that had been left scattered on the ground when the wall collapsed and tossed it so that it landed with a thud about a dozen feet on the other side of the gap.
The noise was loud enough to be heard inside the barracks. The soft, bored voices of the guards came to an abrupt halt. Silence reigned for a few seconds, then one man asked the other if he had heard that.
“It must have been Almanzar or one of the other men,” the second guard replied in Spanish.
“They all went into the house. There is no reason for any of them to be behind the barracks.”
“It was nothing,” the second guard insisted. “Just one of the noises that the night makes.”
Luke tossed a smaller, fist-sized piece of adobe. It bounced when it hit the ground and clattered against the wall.
“Something is back there,” the first guard said.
“An animal. I’ll take a look.” The second guard didn’t sound all that convinced there was nothing to worry about, despite his claim that an animal of some sort had caused the noises. His pride wasn’t going to let him back down, though.
Luke heard wary footsteps as the man approached the opening in the wall.
A rifle barrel protruded through the opening first, followed by the rest of the weapon and the upper body of the man holding it. The guard leaned forward to peer along the wall in the direction of the sounds. He stood motionless for a long moment. Not seeing anything, he stepped over the eight inches of adobe wall that still stood at the bottom of the opening, turning his back to Luke.
The bounty hunter was ready. He had drawn the right-hand Remington and reversed it, gripping it so he could strike with the butt. He raised the gun, flipped the sombrero off the guard’s head so it wouldn’t cushion the blow, and brought the gun down fast and hard.
It smashed into the back of the guard’s head with a crunch of bone. Without a sound, the man dropped like a shot. If he’d been startled by his hat flying off for no apparent reason, his confusion hadn’t lasted long. He was either already dead from the shattered skull or soon would be.
“Paco!” The name was an urgent whisper from the other guard. He hadn’t been able to tell exactly what had happened in the shadows behind the barracks, but had heard the impact of Luke’s gun against the first man’s head. “Paco, are you all right?”
Paco was long past being able to answer.
Several tense moments went by. Luke waited, utterly quiet. Finally he heard the soft shuffle of reluctant footsteps approaching the opening.
The other guard wasn’t a fool. Without warning, his sombrero sailed out through the gap in the wall.
Luke’s steely nerves kept him from reacting, but he knew that a lot of men who were keyed up for trouble would have been spooked into taking a shot at the headgear.
When the sombrero didn’t draw a response, the guard stuck his head out to take a look.
Luke didn’t wait for the man to step completely out of the barracks. He struck instantly. The Remington flashed down, and once again the gun butt smashed into bone with enough force to shatter it.
The guard was conscious just long enough to let out a grunt of surprise and pain before he slumped forward. Luke grabbed his collar and hauled him over what was left of the wall, letting him spill on the ground behind the barracks. He checked for a pulse on both men, but didn’t find one on either.
Two of the outlaws were accounted for.
Straightening, Luke stepped over the wall into the old barracks. He turned his gun around and held it ready to fire. Enough starlight came through the
big holes in the roof for him to make out a door on the other side of the room. The bar that rested in brackets across it told him the prisoners had to be on the other side.
He moved quickly and put his mouth to the tiny crack beside the door. “Anybody in there speak English?” he asked in an urgent whisper.
He heard some surprised muttering in Spanish. Then a man whispered back, “I speak some, gringo. Who are you?”
“The man Lieutenant Sanchez spoke to yesterday in the badlands. I’ve come to get you out of there.”
Again there was silence on the other side of the door. Luke could almost see the Rurales thinking, wondering if it was some sort of trick.
At last, the man who had spoken asked, “Are you not part of the same gang as the traitors Almanzar and Lopez?”
“I am not,” Luke said. “I came here to bring the leaders of that gang, the men called Kelly and Creighton, to justice.”
“Then you are, how do you say, a bounty hunter?”
“That’s right. I’m only interested in those two. You can have Almanzar, Lopez, and the rest.”
“How?” the Rurale asked. “We have no weapons.”
“There are two dead guards out here. They each had a rifle, a pistol, and a machete. That’s enough to arm six of you. If you can lure the other members of the gang in here and jump them, you ought to be able to take their weapons away and use them.”
“Some of us will be killed.”
“That may be true. But they massacred your compadres. This is your chance for vengeance.” Luke knew that would appeal to the Rurales. He heard them talking among themselves in hurried whispers on the other side of the door.
After a couple of minutes of discussion, the spokesman said, “If you let us out, what would you have us do in return?”
“Wait here for ten minutes,” Luke said. “Then take one of the guns and fire several quick shots as if you are breaking out and the guards are trying to stop you. That ought to be enough to bring the others out here to see what’s going on.”
And if that happened, it would give him a chance to slip into the stone house and get the drop on Creighton and Kelly, he hoped.
Luke Jensen Bounty Hunter Dead Shot Page 20