Stampede at Rattlesnake Pass

by Clay More

  Pulling out her Winchester from the boot, she dismounted and made her way stealthily towards the cabin.

  Circling it she noted the hole at the back, which set her mind working. Could the girl have escaped? Could that be it? Were those two fools at that moment chasing her somewhere in the Pintos?

  She gingerly undid the latch of the door and pushed it open. By the failing light she could see a blanket covering a bundle against the wall on the far side of the table, which was strewn with cards, dirty dishes and an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

  "Hog? Cole?" she ventured.

  From the room at the back she fancied that she heard movement. "Are you in there?"

  She crossed the room and prodded the door open with the barrel of her Winchester.

  Cole Lancing was frantically kicking his feet against the dirt floor and shaking his head back and forth.

  Carmen de Menendez tore the gag from his mouth. "What the hell have you two done?" she demanded angrily. "Where is the girl and where is Hog?"

  "Hog is in there and he is stone dead! And the girl is gone. That Scudder guy came and jumped us." His lip curled maliciously. "I managed to cut him up a little, though."

  If he had expected a reward, it was not the one he received. She gave him a backhanded swipe across the face. "You fool! You could have ruined everything."

  Producing a knife she leaned her Winchester against the wall and cut him free. "Now show me Hog," she ordered.

  Cole Lancing heaved himself up, rubbing his wrists to restore circulation. He went back through to the main room and lifted the blanket to show the stiffened corpse of the rustler. "I will kill that Scudder for you, Hog," he said.

  And then to the saloon owner: "Should I bury him?"

  "No time," she snapped. "We have to get going."

  Sheriff Slim Parfitt was madder than a rattlesnake with its tail tied to a stake. At least that was how he felt after several hours spent chasing Scudder’s stallion in and out of canyons around Rattlesnake Pass.

  "When we catch that bastard, there will be no more pussyfooting around with snakes," he snarled at Hank Bott and the other three members of the posse as he remounted his horse, having inspected the ground for fresh tracks. "It will be a straight bullet through the brain for all this aggravation he’s caused."

  "What do you make of that Nantan, Sheriff?" asked the deputy.

  "Damned if I know where he’s gone, but if he’s just headed back to Silver City, I will root him out and –"

  "Give him his own rattlesnake treatment?" Sly Ryker, the tall rider with an ill-fitting Stetson, asked hopefully.

  "Maybe," replied the sheriff, signaling for them all to follow him. "But first let’s concentrate on finding Scudder. Then we’ll settle with Nantan. Come on, he went this way."

  As they trotted after the sheriff in the failing light, Nantan gave a silent grunt of satisfaction from his viewpoint above. He was pleased with the false trail he had laid out for them. He yawned and made himself comfortable, sure in the knowledge that they would be at least an hour getting back to this point. And that would be quite enough time for him to have a refreshing sleep before he laid another false trail.

  * * *

  Jake and Elly were riding along one of the canyons that ran parallel to Rattlesnake Pass in the last stage of evening before darkness fell. Although the moon was doing its best to illuminate the country, the canyon was so deep and narrow that little moonlight ever hit the bottom. Accordingly, it was slow going.

  "Are you sure we are going the right way, Jake?"

  Jake half-turned. "Pretty sure. One thing I seem to have been blessed with is a good sense of direction. And pretty soon we’ll have a few stars to help us along. I reckon we follow this for a couple of miles then we should come out close to the mouth of the pass."

  "But do you - ?"

  He hissed and raised his hand to indicate silence. "I thought I heard something," he whispered.

  Then a moment later they heard the unmistakable sound of several horses riding close by.

  "My God! Who is it?" Elly whispered.

  "Can’t be sure, but I reckon it must be Sheriff Parfitt and his posse," replied Jake. "Sound travels in strange ways in these canyons. They could be some way off, or – they could be around the next bend."

  "What should we do?"

  "Only one safe thing to do. We had better bed down for the night and hope that they pass and keep on going. In the morning we can start afresh."

  * * *

  Carmen de Menendez was a hellcat! The most beautiful hellcat in the world, but not a woman to cross. At least that was Cole Lancing’s assessment. It wasn’t that he felt particularly close to Hog Fleming, but he felt bad about just leaving him to rot in that cabin, a prey to coyotes and all the other creatures of the night that would hone in on the smell of death and fresh meat. He cringed at the thought.

  "How come you came here by yourself, Miss Carmen?" he ventured as they rode quickly through the darkness, making good time.

  "I came to make sure that Rubal Cage and you two didn’t foul up," she replied, eyeing his silhouette with displeasure. "And it looks as if I was certainly right to do so!"

  Lancing had a thick hide and the sarcasm was lost on him. "But how come that Scudder managed to get after us? I thought the plan was for him to get taken care of in town."

  "You mean like the way he saw you and Hog off?"

  Cole stiffened as the impact of that remark stung. "He was lucky. Miss Carmen. No, I thought that something else was planned. That is what Rubal said, but he’s a bit like his name – cagy!" He began to laugh at his own wit, but was silenced by a flick of her quirt on his exposed hand.

  "Don’t ask so many questions, Cole!"

  He rubbed his hand. "Sorry, Miss Carmen. It's just that – you know – with Hog gone, there’s got to be more money coming my way – right? The thing is, I kind of took a fancy to that little girl that we were supposed to separate from Scudder. With some money, maybe I could buy – "

  Carmen de Menendez slowed down and turned to Cole. In the moonlight he could see her shining white teeth and realized that she was smiling at him. Men did strange things when Carmen de Menendez smiled at them, as Cole Lancing well knew.

  "You have been a good man through all of this, Cole," she purred. "And you have taken a fancy to little Rosalind, have you? Well, don’t you worry. As soon as we get back to Silver City when this is all over, I will have a word with her. The bonus that is coming your way could set the pair of you up." She reached over and squeezed his wrist. "Trust me. I will take care of you, Cole."

  As they set off again, Cole Lancing rode with a light heart. He was riding with a beautiful woman in the moonlight – a hellcat, admittedly – but he was on her good side. And she was going to take care of him. He felt good about it.

  * * *

  Hangover headache and stomach pains from lack of breakfast did nothing to ease the temper of Sheriff Slim Parfitt’s posse the following morning.

  "I reckon that Scudder is playing with you, Sheriff," said Hank Bott.

  "Yeah, he’s leading us in circles," agreed Sly Ryker.

  "More like figure eights," moaned Tod Latimer, the barrel-chested local blacksmith who was beginning to miss his forge more than usual.

  "Why don’t we split up then?" suggested Wade Carson, adjusting his eye patch. "That way we could catch him when he loops back on himself."

  Sheriff Parfitt took a slug of whiskey, his favored remedy for early morning hangover relief. He sucked air between his teeth as the fiery liquid hit his stomach and he immediately felt in control of himself and of the situation.

  "Pipe down all of you. I am the sheriff of Silver City and I am in charge. I know exactly what that murdering dog Scudder is up to and I guarantee we will have him by the end of today. Now saddle up and get ready to follow me, as soon as I pick up the trail again."

  And indeed, it did not take Slim Parfitt long to find the trail, for Nantan had made it as obvious as hu
manly possible. Once again he was watching then from a vantage point high up in the rocks, sure in his mind that they would eventually find their way up to where he now lay, and thence along the snaking route that he planned to take right into Tucksville.

  * * *

  Elly and Jake had settled down for the night and waited for the riders to move away, which they surely had. Then with first light, after a breakfast of cold beans and water they saddled up and continued on their way towards Tucksville.

  Until they heard the echoing of horses on the move.

  "I rather think that is the posse again," said Jake. "It may be that they are following Nantan all the way to Tucksville. I had hoped that he would lose them in the Pintos."

  "So will it be too dangerous to go to Tucksville?" Elly queried. "But couldn’t I go? There’s no reason for them to stop me."

  "Except we don’t know whether they have any knowledge about the killing or not. They could be in on this whole thing, or they could just be stooges being used by whoever is behind all this."

  "Then I think the best bet is to go to the Double J and get Jeb Jackson to help us."

  Jake shook his head doubtfully. "I am not so sure, Elly. Maybe it would be better if we start by getting you back safe to the ranch. I am betting that your brother must be frantic by now." He smiled, and then added:

  "To say nothing of that young man of yours."

  * * *

  Johnnie Parker was more anxious than he thought was possible. But having lost so much blood and with his wounds only half-healed he felt well nigh helpless. Rubal Cage had gagged and tied him hand and foot, then left him on the bed while he dragged the unconscious Yucatan through the ranch-house hall to surprise Saul Horrocks.

  From time to time Johnnie heard Saul’s raised voice as he argued and pleaded with Rubal Cage.

  "You just sit tight, Horrocks," he heard Cage say. "We are all just going to have a nice wait."

  "What for?" Saul Horrocks had demanded.

  "Never you mind. You three men are just going to have to enjoy my cooking. Those ropes aren’t too uncomfortable, are they?" And then he laughed and humiliated each one of them in turn.

  True to his word he had fed and watered them, even allowed individual toilet relief, under his scrutiny with his Colt .45.

  And so it had gone on through a whole day and night until in the morning Johnnie spied two riders approaching the ranch. A man and a woman.

  * * *

  Nantan was enjoying himself. A natural horseman, he had quickly bonded with the big black stallion and reveled in the ease with which he had led and misled the posse.

  He now ambled into Tucksville and made his way along the main street to the nearest saloon. He hitched the stallion outside, then crossed to the other side of the street, selected a spot on the boardwalk, and sat down with his back to the wall of a hardware store. Knocking Scudder’s Stetson out of shape, Apache style, he pulled it low to cover his face.

  He looked just like any number of loafers who could be found doing nothing in a town like Tucksville.

  * * *

  Elly and Jake hitched their horses outside the Rocking H ranch-house, sadly looking so deserted in comparison to the busy place it had been but a few days before.

  Elly mounted the steps to the door and pushed it open.

  "Saul! Johnnie! It’s me. I'm back."

  The main room door opened and Carmen de Menendez came out, a broad, welcoming smile on her beautiful face. "Elly, my dear," she said.

  Elly stared at her in amazement, unable to find words. But Jake Scudder, entering a couple of paces behind her, managed to find something to say.

  "Miss Carmen? What on earth are you doing here?"

  Then he felt the unmistakable feel of a gun muzzle being shoved into his back. It was followed by a snarling voice. "Remember me, Scudder?"

  And as Jake turned his head he caught a fleeting glimpse of Cole Lancing’s lazy eye staring at him. Then there was a blur of movement and excruciating pain as the gun crashed on the back of his head and he went down pole-axed.

  Elly stared in disbelief, then she gasped:

  "Saul? Johnnie? Yucatan? Where - ?"

  Carmen de Menendez was still smiling. "That is just what I was about to tell you, my dear. They are all in here," she said, stepping aside for Elly to enter the room. "We’ve all been waiting for you."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sheriff Parfitt and his posse rode into Tucksville amid a cloud of dust. The usual crowd of loafers and urchins quickly congregated in their wake and followed them up the main street.

  "There’s the stallion," said Slim Parfitt, turning to give Hank Bott a smug grin. "I told you all that I would run him down. Now we'll get the dog."

  "But where is he?" Sly Ryker queried, looking up and down the street without seeing the man they knew as Scudder.

  Sheriff Parfitt gave him a slap with his hat, showering him with an accumulation of trail dust. "You expecting him to be sauntering around?" he asked sarcastically.

  "Why not?" rebutted Ryker. "I guess he thinks he gave us the slip a long time ago."

  "Yeah," agreed Tod Latimer. "He probably thinks we gave up and headed back to Silver City."

  Slim Parfitt dismounted beside the stallion and gave it a quick examination. "It’s been here a while, anyway. This horse is all cooled down." He hitched his gunbelt a little higher and pointed his chin at the saloon. "We’ll check in there first. Follow me and all of you spread out as soon as we get inside."

  It was dark inside after the brightness of the morning sun. A solitary bartender was unstacking chairs in readiness for the start of the day’s business.

  "I'm afraid that we ain't open yet, gents," he said.

  "Well, I reckon you'll open for us," said Slim Parfitt, wiping the back of his hand across his parched lips. "Make it whiskey for five."

  The bartender was a tall thin man with a long nose and defiant eyes. "I reckon not. It isn’t allowed in Tucksville for another half hour."

  Slim Parfitt tapped his star. "Don’t you see who I am?" he said pompously. "I am Sheriff Slim Parfitt of Silver City and I am in charge of this posse here."

  "Still no whiskey," returned the bartender. "Isn’t that right, Deputy McCaid?"

  All five turned as a small, tubby man of about fifty with pebble-thick wire framed spectacles stepped through the bat-wing doors. The pose members looked disdainfully at the slightly comedic figure standing before them in a shirt buttoned up to the collar and with a crudely made deputy marshal badge pinned to a waistcoat, which strained over his paunch.

  "That is certainly correct, Amos. No drinking at this time of the day. Marshal Matt Brooks won’t countenance it at all."

  "The hell with that!" exclaimed Sheriff Parfitt. "Now you just look here, Deputy whatever-your-name is, I'm the sheriff of Silver City and I am aiming to take a murdering dog by the name of Jake Scudder into custody."

  "Do you know that he is in Tucksville?" Deputy McCaid asked, peering myopically from one to the other of the posse.

  "That is his black stallion hitched out there."

  "This Jake Scudder. Is he a young Apache kid?"

  Slow understanding crept across Parfitt’s face, which colored rapidly with ire. "Nantan! He's been playing games with us! I’ll kill him! Come on, men."

  And as one they all rushed past the deputy into the street.

  Nantan was now leaning against a post on the opposite boardwalk, smiling at them.

  "Nantan! You damned well suckered us," snarled Slim Parfitt. "Well, we're gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget. Get him, boys."

  Another voice entered the fray. "Hold it right there. You and your men will teach nobody anything in this town, Slim Parfitt. And don’t even think of going for your guns. Any of you."

  All five of the posse swiveled around to see the tall, capable-looking figure of Marshal Matt Brooks. He was standing with his feet apart and with his hands hanging casually by his sides.

  "Marshal Brooks,
" hissed Slim Parfitt. "I know you and you know me. I am the sheriff of Silver City and I have reason to believe that Nantan feller there has been obstructing me in the execution of my duty. He has helped a known murderer escape my posse. I am therefore taking him in."

  Matt Brooks shook his head. "And I repeat – not in my town. You have no jurisdiction here."

  A large crowd had been gathering on the boardwalks as people slowly emerged from stores and offices to see what all the raised voices were about.

  Sheriff Parfitt’s face was now flushed with rage. "Do you think you can stop five of us all by yourself, Brooks?"

  Deputy Samuel McCaid had circled the group and now stood a few feet away from Matt Brooks.

  "There are two of us here, in case you didn’t notice. Me and my deputy."

  The five men stared at the middle-aged deputy with the thick lensed spectacles and all made sneering noises.

  "That isn’t polite," said Matt Brooks. Then with a nod to his deputy, he said: "I reckon these men could do with a little lesson in manners. How about it, Samuel."

  None of the posse was ready for the blur of movement that followed. And the crowd of onlookers would spread the word, so that it grew into a local legend. Such is the way in towns like Tucksville.

  Marshal Matt Brooks was fast and before anyone could account for it a gun had appeared in his hand. Yet his speed was as nothing compared to his deputy, Samuel McCaid. His blue steel Colts had seemed to jump into his hands and five shots rang out before any of the posse had moved a muscle. With each shot a little cloud of dust rose from between each of the posse members’ feet.