Then, as if it were an afterthought, he had added a note to the bottom in smaller writing that was even harder to read than the first.
Sorry about the dead guy. He came after you left. Crazy bounty hunter. Broke his neck. Needed his horse.
Luke crumpled up the paper. “Blast his greedy, no good . . .” Luke sighed. “I’ll have to do it alone.”
“That ain’t such a bad thing,” the Stranger mused, rubbing his scarred chin.
Luke tossed the crumpled note into the cold fire pit. “What are you talking about? This is bad any way you look at it. Me against fourteen armed men.”
“Maybe not. Maybe this is where it starts,” the Stranger said, an odd eagerness in his voice.
“What?” Luke asked.
The specter grinned a smoky grin. “The Legend of Luke Bassett.”
18: Preparations and Unexpected Repercussions
An excerpt from the Tale of Luke Bassett
“Try a cigarette! The cheaper and healthier option!” – Ad for Lovely Lupita’s Happytime Fags in the Las Vegas Gazette, Las Vegas, New Mexico, April 7 1875. Features an image of a buxom woman in a ragged dress smoking a cigarette while sitting casually on the chest of a prostrate man wearing a full tuxedo. His eyes are X’ed out and his tongue is hanging out of his open mouth. A partially smoked cigar is lying on the ground beside his head.
“Do you have a plan of attack in mind?” the Stranger asked.
“At the moment, I’m mostly concerned about my bullet-to-Black Spot ratio,” Luke replied. Though a quick calculation told him there were at least fourteen of the bandits in town, the number could be higher. He had three bullets left in his Smith and Wesson. Bobby’s gun held six and his old spare only five. Exactly fourteen. “Tom better not have raided my stash.”
Luke trotted to the rear of the ravine. The largest of the small caves in the cliff’s side was one he had claimed for himself. It was only about three feet tall and just as deep, but it was the perfect size for his needs.
Luke was glad to see that the dirt-covered tarp that disguised the entrance looked undisturbed. He lifted the tarp and dragged out the wooden chest he had hidden in the cave. Old and beat up and reinforced with bands of iron, it had started out as a strongbox on a stage coach the Red Stars had robbed a couple years back. Now it held Luke’s own private armory.
He lifted the lid and smiled at the treasure within. On the top were a few odd handguns he had snagged off of bandits and people that the Red Star Gang had held up over the years. Most of them fired old paper cartridges or were small single shots. He kept them mainly as keepsakes. Still, he took several of the small derringer style ones and tucked them in various pockets. They weren’t good at any sort of range, but why not?
Then he pushed the others aside and focused on what he was really here for. Bullets; boxes and bags and leather purses filled with ammunition of various sizes, but mostly .38 ammo. Luke had been collecting it for years. He had fired off countless rounds perfecting his craft and spent most of his loot buying more.
He reloaded his Smith and Wesson and began loading up his gunbelt. It had loops for ten cartridges on each side, but that still didn’t feel like enough. He pulled out two more boxes, then shut the lid.
“Just pistols?” asked the Stranger, who was standing behind him.
Luke frowned. The specter knew he didn’t quite like the feel of a rifle. He had often teased Luke that it was probably because Sandy was so good with them, but Luke didn’t believe that. He had just never felt as comfortable holding a weapon in two hands.
Sighing, he reached back into the cave and pulled out a Winchester rifle and a shotgun. Then he pushed the wooden chest back into the hole and covered it back up with the tarp. A few handfuls of dirt and a scattering of rocks later, it looked like part of the cliff face again. Of course all it would take was a stiff rainstorm to spoil the illusion, but he felt better with it covered anyway.
Luke returned to the fire pit feeling like he could take out a full army regiment. He was already putting together a plan, mapping out the streets of Luna Gorda in his mind. Where might the Black Spots be waiting for him and what would be his best entry point for attack?
“That Black Spot you let loose will be getting to town in a few hours,” the Stranger said. “Best if you weren’t too far behind him.”
Luke nodded. If they planned to dig in and wait for his approach it would be a good idea to strike before they had their defenses set. Maybe it was best to plot along the way. Then his nose caught a rancid odor.
Luke swore. “First I have to deal with Tom’s present.” Grumbling, he walked to the shack and peered inside at the dead bounty hunter. “He could’ve at least had the decency to leave the man’s underwear on.”
Luke was willing to bet that Tom had just been too lazy to take care of it himself. Either that or he had left the naked corpse there as his idea of a joke. Whatever Tom’s reasons, Luke had to deal with it. Not only would a rotting body leave a nasty mess to clean up later, it would attract scavengers. Luke didn’t want to have to root out a nest of vultures or a coyote den the next time he came to the hideout.
The hot sun had created an oven like temperature in the shack and the body was already starting to stink. Luke reached down and grabbed the dead man’s legs, grimacing at the warm and clammy texture of the skin. He started to drag the body out of the shack, but its right arm got caught under one of the cots. He had to reposition the body before he could move it.
The Stranger was watching him with arms folded when Luke dragged the ex-bounty hunter out onto the dirt. “Don’t tell me you’re going to take the time to bury that man,” the Specter remarked.
“Next time I see Tom, I’m shooting his toe off,” Luke promised. Which toe didn’t matter. Maybe he’d start with the smallest one and work his way up until he felt satisfied. He dropped the man’s feet, leaving the corpse to stare emptily up at the sun. “But you’re right.”
Burying the man would require hours of digging and Luke didn’t want to waste the time. He looked over at the horse he had taken from the Black Spot camp, an idea forming in his mind.
He wrapped the corpse in a spare blanket and lifted it over his shoulder. It wasn’t an easy task. The man hadn’t been a light weight and his back cried out at the effort of lifting it. Staggering, he carried the man to the horse and laid him over its saddle. Then he tied the corpse down and went to loading his own horse with weaponry.
He put on his duster and set out on his mare a short time later, leading the other horse and its grisly burden behind him. The ride took longer than he had hoped. The Black Spot’s skinny horse was skittish; unhappy with the smell of its passenger.
Two miles further down the trail, he found a good spot and dismounted. Luke untied the corpse and shoved it down a slope, letting it tumble into a crevasse below. He looked back at the horse and decided he had no further use for it.
Luke removed the horse’s saddle and bridle and tossed them down the slope after the dead bounty hunter. With a shout and a smack across the horse’s rump, he sent it off on its own. That done, he trotted on towards Luna Gorda.
He struggled briefly over which route to take, but in the end the best way seemed to be the trail through the hills south of town. It was a twisting trail which would slow him down a bit, but it wasn’t heavily travelled and used only by a couple of ranchers who lived in the area. More importantly, it was hidden from view until it came out close to town not far from his parents’ house. If he was careful, he could get there unseen and if it wasn’t too closely watched, get them out of town until this was over.
The journey took several hours and it was late in the afternoon by the time he came to the end of the trail. Luke decided to wait until dark to proceed. He stayed there near the trailhead and checked his pistols over and over again while going over his plans in his mind. The Stranger stayed absent during this time, but that didn’t bother Luke too much. He knew that appearing sapped his backer’s strength and he
was going to need the specter’s powers if he was going to pull off his assault on the Black Spots.
When dusk came, Luke tired of waiting. He exited the trail and rode towards the town’s spring. There was a line of trees there that would further help disguise his approach. Finally, he reached the edge of the tree line. From here on in, there would be nothing to hide his approach.
“Luke,” said a male voice from within the trees.
Luke twisted in his saddle, his left hand drawing his gun and pointing it so fast it seemed as if it had materialized out of this air. “Step out from behind that tree.”
“Lower your cannon, kid. It’s me,” the man said and stepped into the fading light just far enough that Luke could make out his features.
He didn’t lower his weapon. “Sheriff Dale. You planning to bring me in?”
Dale had been a long time deputy in town before he became sheriff. Luke’s stepfather helped him build his house and the two were good friends. That didn’t mean Luke could trust him, though. Like the Stranger always said, lawmen are lawmen.
“Of course not, you idiot!” the sheriff whispered harshly. “Now climb down from that horse and get over here before someone else sees you!”
Reluctantly, Luke did as Dale asked and led his horse into the copse of trees. He didn’t put away his revolver, though he did keep it pointed towards the ground. He felt a little better when he saw that Dale was alone.
“What the hell are you smoking?” Luke asked.
“This?” Dale asked, removing the thin white tube of paper from his mouth. “It’s new. Called a cigarette. My grandma sent a whole case of them to me from Mexico. She says I should smoke these instead of cigars. She wants her only grandson to be healthy.”
“Well, it doesn’t suit you,” Luke observed. Dale had always smoked long thick greenish cigars. “It’s just sad. Looks like a fat toothpick hanging out your mouth. How did you know I’d be coming this way?”
“Most of the roads in are easily seen from town,” Dale replied with a scowl. He dropped the cigarette to the dirt and ground it out with his toe. “Besides, I’ve always known your hideout’s somewhere near Alberto’s land. This trail ends out that way.”
Luke had not expected that. He tried not to react. “And what would make you think that?”
“Come on. You think people haven’t heard you out there target shooting?” Dale said.
Luke frowned. While they didn’t actually shoot inside the ravine, ricochet being a real risk, they did practice nearby. “Look, none of that matters. What do you want?”
“I came out here to warn you off,” Dale hissed. “Where are the other two?”
“We split up,” Luke said. “I don’t know where they are, but they aren’t coming this way. They don’t know the Black Spots are in town.”
He sighed. “Well, I guess that’s a blessing. Still, you should get gone.”
The Stranger chose that moment to appear behind the sheriff. He didn’t say anything, but Luke could see his one good eye and the butt of his cigar glowing softly in the dark.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Dale?” Luke said.
“Two days ago. A whole mess of Black Spots came into town,” the sheriff said. “I already had an idea what they were looking for because a bounty hunter came in just before them wanting to post a $200 reward for information on you three. It wasn’t official, though, so I didn’t let him. By the way, what the hell were you thinking, robing the bank of Puerta Muerte?”
“We didn’t actually rob it,” Luke countered, wondering if that particular bounty hunter was the one he had disposed of just hours ago. “Well, we held it up, but we’re not stupid. We only stole Jeb Wickee’s money.”
Dale placed his hand wearily on his forehead. “Not stupid?”
“It’s not our fault he went and lied to everybody,” Luke replied. “Look, just tell me what the Black Spots have been up to.”
“Not much at first. They were just hanging around, watching the streets and leering at the womenfolk. One of ’em was lounging outside Alberto’s shop, one following Jeremy around. Nothing I could do anything about,” Dale said. “But earlier today, a rider showed up; galloped pell-mell up to the saloon where that Black Spot leader, El Cid was camped out.”
“What did El Cid do then?”
Dale cocked his head. “Is it true you shot two of their men?”
“In the head. They were threatening to rape Sandy’s mother,” Luke explained. “Also it was self-defense.”
“Well whatever your reasons, it was a bad idea!” Dale said loudly. He let out a slow breath and continued with a softer tone. “El Cid doesn’t believe y’all really intend to turn yourselves in. He went in a rage. Tore up Hank’s bar.” Luke winced at that one. “Then he ordered his men to grab your families.”
“Did you do anything to stop him?” Luke asked.
“There’s just me and my three deputies,” Dale snapped. “We did what we could. Walked in the bar and reminded El Cid that there was an agreement in this town. Jeb’s promise, you know?”
Luke nodded.
“He said y’all voided that promise when you stole his money. I told him that we’d have to arrest anyone who laid his hands on our citizens. He said he’d cut off my nose and keep it on his necklace. Then he promised he’d burn the whole damn town to the ground.”
Luke’s face flushed and he felt a wave of heat rush over his skin.
The Stranger’s eye glowed a brighter yellow. “No way you could know, boy.”
Luke shook his head. This was all his fault. He should’ve left with Tom. “What did he do next?”
“Had his men gather everyone up; your parents; Alberto and Elizabeth-Ann; Tom’s mother and all his siblings. They took ’em over to the schoolhouse and that’s where they’re holed up, waiting for the three of you to arrive.”
“Alright,” he said through clenched teeth. “Exactly how many of them are in town?”
“More have been trickling in. I’d say near twenty right now,” Dale replied. “El Cid’s got seven or eight with him at the schoolhouse and the rest are scattered around town, keeping a lookout for you.”
Luke tried to keep a level head, thinking who in town might help. But all that would likely do is get some of them killed. “Will we get any help from the railroad police?”
“They won’t do anything. The Black Spot’s haven’t gone near their new vaunted street,” Dale said, spitting on the ground. “Best I could do was send a telegraph to the Marshal’s Service. Got a message back saying they would send help, but it’ll be a day or two. Even by train. Listen, all you can do is hold back and wait ’till help comes.”
Luke snorted. “Meanwhile, he carves on our families.”
“Surely . . . he wouldn’t,” Dale said unconvincingly. El Cid’s reputation was well known. The big hulk of a man loved using his knives and he wasn’t a patient man.
“They got men watching my house?” Luke asked.
“I counted two as I rode over here, but look . . . You can’t worry about that,” Dale urged. “Just come with me. I got a place for you to hole up. Wait ’till the marshals get here. I’ll deputize you; let you be part of the group when we storm the place.”
“I don’t want a badge,” Luke growled, his shame turning to anger. He looked to his backer. “You go ahead, scout the place out. Scare the hell out of them. I want those men pissing their britches when I show up.”
“Just how am I supposed to do that?” Dale sputtered.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Luke said. The Stranger chuckled and the glow of his eye blinked out as he faded into the darkness. “What I want you to do, sheriff, is get your deputies and protect the rest of the town while I get to work.” He shoved his revolver back into its holster. “I’m going to kill a lot of men tonight.”
19: The Shootout at Luna Gorda
An excerpt from the Tale of Luke Bassett
“There’s many ways to kill a man. I plan to use all of ’em.�
�� – The killer, Jim Miller, El Paso, Texas, June 1888. Despite his braggadocio, he wasn’t quite as creative as he claimed.
Luke’s parent’s house had changed greatly since the Stranger had visited when he was nine. Jeremy’s “unfinished wing” had been finished years ago, along with two other expansions. The two room home now had two bedrooms, a kitchen with a separate dining room, a living room, and, new to Luke, a shop out back where Jeremy could work on whatsoever side projects he wished.
Sheriff Dale had been right about the two men watching the house. One of them sat out on the front porch in a rocking chair, while the other one was rifling through Rebecca’s pantry. The lamp he had lit inside meant that Luke could just see the man through the kitchen window.
Luke, who was crouched in the back of his stepfather’s wagon a short distance away, smiled grimly as he watched him down the sights of the Winchester rifle. Pity about his mother’s big new window. He aimed for the man’s left breast.
To Luke’s disappointment, the bullet didn’t shatter the window completely, but left a roundish hole as it struck the man just to the right of where he had aimed. The .44 caliber bullet shattered the Black Spot’s sternum on its way to his back, where it lodged in his spine.
At the sound of the shot, the man on the front porch sprang to his feet, lifting a rifle in his hands. Luke’s next shot was a bit less accurate than the first. In his defense, the moon hadn’t yet risen and the man was wearing a dark blue shirt. The bullet slipped between two ribs and pierced his right lung, leaving quite a mess on Rebecca’s front door as it exited his back. Both bandits lay dying.
“Okay, so rifles have their place,” Luke said. He could see why Sandy preferred them. It would have been a much harder shot by pistol at this distance. It also didn’t hurt that the Winchester’s tubular magazine held fifteen bullets.
He jumped down from the wagon and rushed over to his horse quickly, knowing that the shots had been heard and men would be on their way. His plan wasn’t to head over to the schoolhouse right away. He would likely find himself surrounded on all sides. Instead, he would pick them off one-by-one as the Stranger sowed fear and confusion along the way.
Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western Page 23