Legion of Fire

by William W. Johnstone

  Russell raised his head slightly and cast a glance from his good eye over to the pile of rubble and then to the still form of Turkey. He settled his head back and said, “It didn’t go as smoothly as we’d hoped, but at least you got the live prisoner you wanted. How bad is his wound?”

  “He’ll make it okay,” Luke answered, “unless he does something stupid to stir up some infection in that bullet hole.”

  Russell’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Speaking of doing something stupid, I guess I managed a pretty good job of that when I moved in too close behind that bearded fellow. He was talking so loud and bold, I . . . I just wanted to make sure I’d be in position to stop him if he tried something.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Things turned out all right.”

  Russell shook his head. “I’m just thankful neither you nor Marshal Burnett got hurt as a result of my foolish—”

  “I said don’t worry about it,” Luke cut him off. “Just move on past it and learn so you’ll know better next time.”

  Tom Burnett walked over from where he’d been examining the bundles of supplies loaded on the now hobbled packhorses and looked down at Russell. “Well now. I see you’re getting a little color back, and I don’t mean just that doozy of a black eye you’re sporting. A little while ago your face was pale as a bowl of milk.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Russell replied, “but I can tell you I’d gladly take being pale over the way my head is feeling right about now.”

  “I figured as much. That’s why I brought you this,” Burnett said, holding out a dented silver flask.

  “What’s in there?” Russell wanted to know.

  “Medicine. Some of the finest whiskey I ever confiscated.”

  Russell’s forehead puckered. “Thank you. But I . . . I never touch the stuff.”

  “Don’t want you to touch it. Want you to swallow down a couple of swigs,” Burnett told him. “We need to get back on the trail as soon as we can, and this will help dull your bustin’ head and make it easier for you to feel like crawling back in the saddle.”

  Russell held up a hand, palm out. “I’ll manage. I started this excursion with an aching head, remember? I figure I can bear some more.”

  “Go ahead and take a drink,” Luke encouraged him. “It’ll do you good.”

  Continuing to look doubtful, Russell pushed to a sitting position and reached out to take the flask Burnett was still holding out to him. He undid the cap, wincing when he got his first whiff of the contents. “Good Lord! Are you sure this won’t numb my whole body?”

  “Been known to do that for a good many over-imbibers,” Burnett said. “But we’re not fixing to go to that extreme. In moderation, whiskey is a blessed cure-all.”

  “Cure or kill, might be more like it,” Russell murmured. But then, taking a deep breath and expelling part of it, he tipped the flask high and poured some of the contents down. When he lowered his arm, his mouth rapidly and silently opened and closed several times, like a fish out of water, until he managed to gasp, “You’re right. I’m suddenly not noticing my aching head anymore, because I’m thinking about my throat being on fire!”

  Burnett and Luke had a good chuckle over that.

  Then Burnett said, “Okay. You’ve lost your whiskey virginity. So taking one more slug will be easier, and that should be enough to set you up pretty good.”

  Russell cocked the brow over his good eye, saying, “Set me up or flatten me out entirely. But if you insist.” After he’d taken his second drink, he handed the flask back to Burnett.

  “Since it’s not polite to let a fella drink alone, I’ll join you in a nip,” the marshal said. After doing so, he held the flask out to Luke. “You, Jensen?”

  Luke took his turn. “Mighty prime,” he said, handing the flask back. “You find that among the supplies we recently inherited?”

  “Not at all. This is out of my saddlebags,” Burnett replied, slipping the flask back into a vest pocket. “Oddly enough, I didn’t spot any liquor at all in those supplies. Nary a drop.”

  Luke frowned. “From the breath on the one who’s still alive and from the stink soaked into the clothes of the two dead ones, I’d have to say they haven’t been separated from some kind of booze for very long.”

  “That may be.” Burnett shrugged. “They must have guzzled everything they had, then.”

  “So what do they have in the way of supplies on those horses?” Russell asked.

  “Just about anything you can name, they’ve got,” Burnett answered. “From grain for the horses to salt pork and canned goods to needles and thread, these boys were doing their part to help make for a well-stocked outfit. Hell, I even ran across half a case of dynamite.”

  “Dynamite,” echoed Luke.

  “That’s right.” Burnett made a sour face. “As if the Legion doesn’t already raise enough hell when they raid a place, think how much worse it could be if they added explosives to their bag of tricks.”

  “You damn betcha you’d better be thinkin’ how much hell can come from the Legion of Fire!” That statement, carried in a harsh Kentucky twang, was suddenly issued by Turkey Grimes from where he lay in chains just a few feet away.

  The faces of Luke, Burnett, and Russell all snapped in his direction. The wounded outlaw had obviously regained consciousness in time to hear part of the three men’s conversation. As their eyes swept to him, he struggled to shove himself up on the elbow of his good arm, returning their looks with a hard glare and a sneering twist to his mouth.

  “Go ahead and gawk. Take a good look,” he said. “Everything you’ve done to me and my pards is gonna be paid back to you tenfold when Sam Kelson and the rest of the Legion catches up with y’all. They’ll rip out your black hearts and hold ’em up for you to see before they’re ever done pumpin’!”

  Luke rose to his feet. He and Burnett drifted closer to the sneering outlaw. Slowly, gingerly, Russell also got to his feet and walked over to stand with them.

  Turkey glared up at all three with hatred brimming in his eyes. “Go ahead and gawp. I ain’t scared of you three nor twenty more just like you. I know you’re gonna kill me. What I don’t know is why you didn’t finish the job after you planted that first pill in me. But it don’t matter none. I’ll be watchin’ from the windows of Hell when you sorry sons get your payback and I want you to be sure and remember that the laughter you hear echoin’ from out of the flames down there will be me!”

  “The only truth that spilled out of that festering pie hole of yours,” Burnett grated, “is the part about one day having a smoky view from the depths of Hell. That’s a guarantee.”

  Turkey’s lips peeled back, displaying a row of twisted yellow teeth. “Damn. Tell me something I ain’t knowed since I was a towhead. But don’t think you’re discouragin’ me none. Fact is, ain’t no place I’d rather be. Already got plenty of friends there waitin’, and plenty more who’ll be showin’ up by and by. So go ahead. Which one of you circlin’ buzzards is gonna be the one to send me on my way?”

  Luke snorted derisively. “Boy, when they were passing out smarts you must have stepped out of line too early. That about right? How else to explain you thinking we’d go to all the trouble of dressing your wound and slapping cuffs on you if all we intended was to shoot you?”

  Turkey’s sneer turned into a puzzled scowl. “I already told you, I can’t feature why you didn’t finish the job on me right off. What are you up to, anyhow?”

  “Are you in such a hurry to die that you don’t bother to listen?” Burnett said. “Or is it that your grimy, unwashed ears are so full of dust from tearing around playing desperado that you plain can’t hear?”

  Turkey’s sneer returned. “Me and the rest of the Legion ain’t playin’ desperado, mister—we’re the real deal. And all the law dogs and all the fine citizens throughout the state ain’t been able to do a damn thing to stop us.”

  “Up until now, that is,” Luke said. “Maybe the whole gang isn’t stopped. Not ye
t. But in case you haven’t noticed, you sure are. Your two pals permanentlike, and you well on your way . . . unless you’re willing to show some better sense than any you’ve demonstrated so far.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Turkey growled. “You keep hintin’ around like you’re talkin’ in, what ya call riddles or some such. How about you start makin’ some damn sense?”

  Chapter 35

  “So that’s how things stand,” Luke said, summing up. “We know the Legion has a hideout up in the Pawnee Badlands. We figure that’s where they’re headed to hole up for the winter, now that they’ve hit Arapaho Springs. All these supplies you and your pals were on your way to deliver are further proof of that. We’ve stopped you and the supplies. Now all that’s left is putting a stop to the rest.”

  “Just the three of you?” Turkey rolled his eyes. “You fellas must be smokin’ Indian weed to make you think so loco. A damn army couldn’t root Kelson and the boys out of those badlands. In the first place, they couldn’t even find ’em.”

  “It wouldn’t take an army,” Luke said in a level tone that matched the gaze he pinned Turkey with, “if the right team of men had the right person to lead them in.”

  Turkey’s eyes stopped rolling and bugged with disbelief. “Me? You think I’m gonna lead you to the Legion hideout?”

  “Depends,” Luke said. “How serious were you a minute ago about being ready to die?”

  “Rather than cross the Legion? Hell, it’s the same difference.” Turkey thrust out his chin defiantly. “So go ahead, if you got the guts. Gun me down in cold blood.”

  Luke turned his head slowly from side to side. “Oh, I’m not going to burn another cartridge on the likes of you. You’re not worth it. There’s only one thing that gives you any worth at all—and if you’re not willing to cooperate, you got nothing to offer as far as we’re concerned. We’ll be on our way, and you’ll be on your own.”

  Turkey scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Are we back to you having dirt in your ears?” Burnett said, joining in the whipsawing. “The man couldn’t have made it any plainer. We’re not inclined to waste time any more than we are bullets. So you can help us out and save your skin, or we’ll ride off and leave your sorry ass to fend for yourself.”

  “What do you mean ‘fend for myself’?” Turkey was beginning to look uncertain, worried.

  Luke sighed. “Once again, I don’t know how it could be said any plainer. We ride away and you’ll be on your own . . . just exactly the way you are.”

  “Like I am? Still in chains, you mean?” Turkey wailed.

  “Now you’re starting to get the picture,” Burnett said. “Chained. No water. No food. No horse. No gun. On your own.”

  Turkey edged toward panic. “That ain’t human! This is the middle of nowhere. I got no chance to make it no place, not hurt and in chains like I am. Not before I freeze or starve or get et by wild critters!”

  “Oh, you’ll make it somewhere eventually,” Luke told him. “That place you said you’d rather be than any other. Where all your pals will be waiting for you. Remember?”

  Burnett added, “In other words, in case that’s something else that wasn’t plain enough . . . Hell.”

  Turkey struggled in an attempt to get to his feet but lost his balance and fell back, jarring his injured shoulder. After emitting a shriek of pain, he hissed out between gulps of ragged breathing, “You can’t treat a body that way. It’s worse than Injun torture. Nobody deserves to be done like that!”

  Burnett suddenly lunged forward and leaned down, grabbing Turkey by the front of his shirt and shaking him. “You listen to me, you disgusting piece of filth,” the marshal growled over Turkey’s squeals of pain. “We saw what you and your two friends did to that girl you left dead back in your last camp. What’s more, we saw what the rest of your gang did to the town of Arapaho Springs—not just the robbing and burning and killing, but the women they carried off with them to be used the same way you did that poor dead girl. Don’t you dare talk to me about what you deserve, damn your vermin-ridden hide!”

  Luke stepped forward and put a hand on the marshal’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Tom. He’s not worth it. We probably couldn’t have trusted him, anyway. Come on. If we’re going to do those gals any good, we need to get moving again.”

  Burnett remained hunched over, holding Turkey in his grip for several more heartbeats before abruptly flinging him away. Straightening up, he turned toward the horses and, without a backward glance, said, “You’re right. Let’s saddle up and get headed into those badlands.”

  In a matter of minutes, the horses were unhobbled and Luke, Burnett, and Russell were in their saddles. The packhorses and the three former mounts of Grogan and the Grimes cousins were strung on tethers behind them. Turkey remained sprawled on the rocky ground, unmoved from where Burnett had flung him. As the others made their preparations to depart, he watched them with alternating expressions of hate and near-panic playing across his dirt-streaked face. They, in turn, gave no further acknowledgment of his presence. No glance in his direction, no word spoken.

  Luke rode out in the lead. Burnett and Russell and the horse string fell in behind him.

  They hadn’t gone more than a dozen yards before Turkey called out in a desperate voice, “Wait! For God’s sake, hold up! Give me another chance. I’ll take your deal.”

  Luke reined in, as did those behind him. The bounty hunter sat his saddle very still for a long moment as if considering. Then he wheeled his horse and, with just a quick sidelong glance at Burnett, trotted back to the wounded man. He walked his horse up very close, making Turkey crab awkwardly backward so he didn’t get stepped on.

  Looming over the trembling outlaw, Luke slowly pulled the little sneak shooter out of his pocket—the hideaway gun the ambusher back at the wedge buttes had tried to kill him with. He held it up for Turkey to see. “I took this off the body of another Legion skunk we ran into a while back. Not really a man stopper, as you can see, but an emergency popper meant for squeezing out of a tight spot. A pill from this in your belly wouldn’t kill you. Not right away. But I shouldn’t have to tell you what a small-caliber gut shot would lead to way out here in the wild with no proper care close by. Maybe it wouldn’t be quite as slow and miserable as being left behind in your present condition, but you can bet it wouldn’t be pleasant. You’d either bleed out or die from lead poisoning, and neither would come very fast.”

  Turkey licked his lips. “W-why are you tellin’ me this? I said I’d cooperate, that I’d take your deal. What more do you want?”

  “What I want,” Luke grated, “is to make sure you understand one false move, one slightest sign of a trick by you—no matter what else happens—I won’t hesitate to plant a pill from this peashooter in your gut and leave your miserable hide to suffer the consequences. Is that plain enough for you?”

  Chapter 36

  When they finally reached it, Ben Craddock had to admit that the Legion of Fire’s hideout and winter quarters was a mighty impressive setup. Located in the heart of the Pawnee Badlands, accessible only after winding through a maze of twisting gullies and canyons amidst weather-beaten, often grotesquely shaped rock outcroppings, it was revealed to be a deep, high-ceilinged cave gained by passing through a narrow, hidden crevice between massive, inward-sloping cliffs. Negotiating the passage meant everyone had to dismount and lead their horses through in single file.

  Inside, the enormous central room of the cave was outfitted with three large fire pits each surrounded by a scattering of cooking utensils; numerous blankets and pelts were spread all around for sitting or lying on; a mound of canned goods, flour, coffee, beans, burlap-wrapped smoked meats, and a variety of other foods was piled between the fire pits; and a half dozen rough-hewn tables and chairs were available for eating or playing cards on. For illumination, coal oil lanterns were placed at regular intervals.

  Off one end of the supply pile sat a large box, four feet high and
wide, five feet long. It was made of smooth, mortar-seamed logs with a leather-hinged lid of the same. Holding the lid in place was a crisscross of heavy chains fastened by a fist-sized padlock. One look at that box, the way it was constructed and chained, was enough to tell Craddock that it held something mighty valuable.

  Had there been the slightest doubt, it was promptly removed when Kelson, immediately upon their arrival in the cave, marched over to the box and unlocked it so he could pour in the contents of the money bag he’d been carrying with him ever since the Arapaho Springs bank robbery. Craddock watched the bundles of fresh bills tumble down over those already contained in the box and realized he was catching a glimpse of more money than he’d ever seen in one place before. Almost more than he could imagine.

  As Kelson rechained and relocked the strongbox, Craddock managed to tear his gaze away so he wouldn’t appear quite as awestruck as he felt.

  Damn, that was a lot of money!

  With effort, he returned to examining the rest of the hideout’s features. Some soot-fringed seams high up in the ceiling indicated a spiderweb of thin openings that evidently served as natural chimneys for smoke from the lanterns and fire pits. Far to the rear, the ceiling sloped down to less than ten feet in height and the area had been sectioned off by a gated barricade of saplings and branches where the horses were kept corralled. A dozen yards to one side of this corral, Craddock could see a rock-rimmed pool of clear water, a natural tank, fed by the steady runoff of a seep trickling down from a crack in the low, sloping ceiling. The tank’s overflow was channeled into a man-made trench that ran over to a wide depression in the floor of the corral.