by Tony Masero
Angelino sniffed the hot morning air and could smell cooking. They were eating inside and that proved the mysterious residents filled their bellies as other mortals did. Diehard’s arrival had ensured the Apache that this was indeed a sacred place for the whites; he had recognized the cowboy as the one who was the maker of magical horses. The one who had brought them forth from the desert and when lost to him as the white mare proved, he could call them back at will. It all bemused the Indian and aroused his curiosity.
The three riders were moving ponderously slowly. They were a set of heavily built men and their overladen rides were tired and caked with sweat and dust.
Then Angelino saw the monk and the Negro boy come out onto the mission steps and stand waiting for the trio to arrive. Now was his chance to discover if there was truly a mystique to the building that was set so high and obvious that it might be seen for many miles away. The structure was almost an insult in itself, a blatant challenge to the Indians, displaying a boldness that could withstand any sort of invasion and survive without fear in the heart of Apache land. It rankled Angelino and he was determined to bring the place under his heel just as he had every other white man’s property he had come across.
‘Welcome!’ smiled Brother Aloysius.
‘Howdy, Reverend,’ rumbled the leader of the three men. ‘You got water for our ponies here?’
‘We have indeed and for you too if you so wish.’
‘Be obliged,’ said the big man dismounting. ‘We come a fair way.’
‘Well, come along inside out of the heat. Let the black child take your horses, he will stable them for you.’
Angelino watched closely from his hiding place as the three brothers Cole, Ben and Reggie Rayde followed the monk inside. He watched as the monk made a motion with his hand and saw with surprise as the four men walked into the wall and vanished from sight. What trickery was this? He wondered. A conjuring that allowed men to walk through walls and into the heart of rock.
Alcasay was on his feet, determinedly shedding the sheet as he ran for the mission steps. The dust fell in a white cloud from his blue army jacket as he ran. Alcasay had once been a member of the tribal police and he still wore the jacket over his loincloth and moccasin boots. Frustrated, the Apache beat his fists in anger at the unresisting adobe walls inside the mission house foyer. He bellowed in aggravation but Angelino could see his lieutenant was wasting his time.
Instead, Angelino threw off his covering sheet and ran at full tilt after the small Negro child leading the ponies away around the opposite side of the mission. But they were gone when he got there. There was no sign of the boy or the ponies. Looking this way and that across the empty open plain around him, Angelino cursed bitterly as a crushing sense of defeat came over him. Like pollen in the wind they were gone, this was a magic he could not defeat, it was beyond his power.
Angelino sunk down on his haunches and pondered what to do.
He would wait, he decided. They must come out sometime and then he would kill them all.
As Brother Aloysius brought the three men into the dining hall, Diehard quickly slid back out of sight as he recognized them. He bit his lip and stepped into the shadows of the kitchen alcove. Although he knew they did not know his face he still felt some consternation that they might sense his presence and guess by instinct who he was.
The monk went through the process of introduction and Gentry pushed boldly forward, as was his way, and offered a noisy greeting.
‘Step up, boys,’ he said, offering his hand. ‘The friar here has food and wine, if you’ve a fancy. How was your journey?’
The brothers mumbled thanks and looked around suspiciously, peering at the company from under lowered brows.
‘Good enough,’ answered Cole finally, taking a seat on one of the benches as his brothers still stood cautiously behind him.
‘Here, my friends,’ beamed Brother Aloysius, bringing a jug of cool water to the table. ‘Pray refresh yourselves.’
Greedily, the three brothers ignored the clay cups offered and swallowed directly from the jug.
‘Damn me!’ growled Reggie, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘That is good, it’s hotter than Hades out there.’
‘You come a ways then?’ Gentry asked, confidently placing one boot up on the bench next to Cole and resting an elbow on his knee as he leaned forward curiously.
‘From Marionville,’ said Cole, coolly looking the soldier up and down, obviously finding the boot on the seat next to him intrusive. Gentry saw the look and quickly moved his foot away.
‘Quite some journey, I declare,’ observed Bellamy innocently, still grasping his ever present carpetbag close to his chest. ‘We ourselves, were set upon by the Indians and forced to take refuge here.’
‘Saw the burnt out stage outside,’ rumbled Cole, noting the dark outline of Diehard in the shadows and trying to make out his face. There was a wire of subtle tension hanging in the air as the brothers searched each face intently and tried to assess the group.
‘Did you see any of the savages?’ asked Bellamy.
‘Not hair nor hide,’ Reggie answered.
‘Perhaps they have moved on,’ Bellamy said hopefully.
‘Wouldn’t count on it,’ said Lilly, coming out from her room and all eyes turned to observe her arrival.
The three brothers went silent, as they took in the unexpected presence of a woman and one as blatantly bold as this one. Their heavyset faces were impassive but the gleam in their eyes was obvious.
‘Didn’t you come from down that way, Diehard?’ prodded Gentry maliciously.
Three pairs of eyes turned from Lilly to Diehard’s silhouette in the shadowed portico of the kitchen.
‘You come up from Marionville, mister?’ asked Cole. ‘We’re looking for a man from Marionville.’
‘Just passing through,’ said Diehard.
‘What about some breakfast, gentlemen?’ interrupted Brother Aloysius. He had detected a sudden shift in the atmosphere and was seeking to transfer attention away from what was clearly a touchy subject.
‘Maybe later,’ rumbled Cole, twisting his bullet head on his thick neck and directing his attention at Diehard. ‘You know anything about the killing at Marionville? We lost our cousin down there, shot down and murdered and we aim to find the guilty party.’
Diehard’s hand was slipping unobtrusively towards the Schofield pistol at his waist, ‘Don’t know nothing about any murder,’ he answered truthfully. ‘Heard there was a legal shooting though.’
‘That weren’t the way of it,’ barked Reggie, suddenly angry.
‘No!’ agreed his brother Ben. ‘Both our cuz and boss man were shot down merciless.’
‘It was a cold blooded killing,’ concurred Cole. ‘Over nothing more than some danged pony.’
‘Maybe our friend Diehard knows more than he’s saying about that,’ needled Gentry, curling his lip with mean satisfaction in Diehard’s direction. ‘Him and Lilly here been real close, ain’t that right, Lilly? The cowboy say anything to you about a killing in Marionville?’
Lilly stared coldly at the soldier, ‘Why don’t you wind your neck in, Gentry? Concern yourself with your own peckerwood business.’
‘Just saying,’ said Gentry with an overtly innocent grin.
‘What you say, cowboy?’ pressed Cole. ‘You know something about this?’
The three brothers had tensed and although Cole sat like a solid block on the bench his body was wired and ready to move at the slightest sign of danger.
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ pleaded Bellamy, looking around nervously. ‘I’m sure Mister Diehard is no killer; in fact he himself is in search of some troublemakers. Is that not so, Diehard?’
Attention turned to the banker at the interruption, ‘What are you?’ Cole asked bluntly. ‘Some kind of store clerk, or something?’
Bellamy grinned weakly, ‘Just an officer of the bank, no more no less. Purely a messenger, I assure you.’
�
�Then I guess this don’t concern you,’ growled Reggie. ‘Best stay out of it. Speak up, cowboy. You the one we’re looking for?’
Brother Aloysius determined to make a stand, ‘Forgive me but I would remind you all, you are guests in God’s house. This is a place of peace and goodwill, let us not sink to recrimination and ill feeling.’
‘Shut it, reverend,’ said Reggie, brushing the monk aside. ‘I believe we got business with this punk-ass cowboy here.’
Diehard stepped away from the alcove, his hand hovering over his pistol. ‘I don’t want no trouble, boys.’
‘Looks like you got it though,’ sneered Gentry. ‘He’s your man, fellas. Plain to see, ain’t it?’
‘Damn you, Gentry!’ snarled Lilly. ‘You are no more than a chicken-shit loudmouthed army thief.’
‘Shut your mouth, whore,’ spat back Gentry, his fingers unsnapping the flap on his Army Colt. ‘I ain’t taking no more from you. One more word and I’ll blow your face out.’
‘Please, desist!’ begged Bellamy, clutching the carpetbag defensively before him and looking from one side to the other in terror.
Reggie pulled out a Colt and raised it long-armed at Diehard, ‘Time to die, you murdering rat.’
Brother Aloysius grabbed his arm and pulled it down as the pistol went of with a deafening boom in the enclosed place, the ricochet whining icily from off the flagstone floor.
There was no alternative now, it was a matter of survival and Diehard drew and fired at the first available target, he loosed off two shots as he backed away towards the cover of the pillar behind him.
Both of his bullets hit the broad body of Cole Rayde where the miner sat bent over the table and trying to free his pistol from his belt. Cole shook as the first slug hit him high in the chest and rocked his big body back, then the second ripped into his windpipe and he sat coughing and choking on his own blood with both big hands clutched at his pumping throat. Behind him, his brother Ben ducked sideways down below the table edge, pulling out his pistol as he went and slamming off a shot in Diehard’s direction. The cowboy jumped back into cover as chunks of adobe and white dust spat from the holed pillar.
Bellamy screamed a long pitiful whine of terror and sat hunched in his seat, clutching his bag tightly before him as the mayhem broke out and bullets whistled past him.
Gentry, to one side of the brothers and glaring meaningfully at Lilly, took the opportunity of the distraction to cross-draw his Colt. He was cocking the hammer on the heavy pistol with his left hand when Lilly quickly hiked up her long skirts and pulled out the derringer she kept in a garter holster there. With slick speed and a face set in stone she loosed off both barrels without hesitation. The two shots from the small double barrel banged out and Gentry curved over backwards as he received one of the bullets in the left eye. The shot opened a bloody hole in his head and with an expression of surprise the soldier fell backwards as the small lead bullet rattled around inside his skull and turned the soft tissue inside to mush.
Brother Aloysius was still struggling with Reggie who was trying to free his gun arm from the monk’s sturdy grip, ‘Let go my danged arm, you fool!’ he bellowed, throwing the friar to one side.
From behind the pillar, Diehard leveled his gun and putting the exposed miner in his sight pulled off an easy shot. Reggie spun around with a scream of pain as the slug took him in the lower arm and tore gory ribbons of flesh from a bloody rent in his forearm.
His brother Ben was pushing aside the body of Gentry that had tumbled across him where he crouched below the edge of the dining table.
‘He killed Cole, goddamn, he shot our brother,’ Ben screamed in frustration as he fired wildly across the top of the table without raising his head to aim.
Lilly, standing at the head of the table, was reloading her derringer with a determined set to her features.
Bullets were now winging around the hall, splintering adobe in clouds of dust and spitting off the stonework to scream through the gun smoke clouded air. The noise was deafening, each shot banging in echo through the enclosed space with the cataclysmic sound of a battle fusillade.
Gritting his teeth, Diehard dropped to the floor and lying side on, brought Ben into his sights under the table. He fired, the flash of his Schofield a spitting glare of light in the shadows. Ben buckled with a loud cry of agony, the bullet plunking into his thigh and throwing him down on his back.
Lilly stepped forward, a merciless look of grim intent on her face as she stood over the fallen miner.
‘Hold it, Lilly,’ called Diehard. ‘There’s no need.’
Lilly looked down at Ben who stared back at her with unremitting aggression despite his face being twisted in pain. ‘Damn you, you ugly…. ’ he spat, calling her a name no man should use to a lady and stonily Lilly arched an eyebrow and fired point blank into his grimacing face.
Diehard had turned his attention back to Reggie, who was still standing in plain sight whilst clutching his wounded arm with his gun hand and whimpering in pain.
‘Drop it!’ Diehard ordered, leveling his pistol.
Brother Aloysius stepped in front of the miner and held his arms wide in protection. ‘Enough!’ he called. ‘Enough, I say.’
‘Step aside, Brother,’ ordered Diehard. ‘It ain’t over yet.’
‘Alright, alright,’ called Reggie. ‘I’m done,’ and he dropped his pistol with a clatter onto the stone floor.
Only silence and the remembered noise of the shooting filled the smoke-filled hall as Diehard stepped cautiously from the cover of the bullet ruined pillar. Both Lilly and Diehard moved into the room, carefully checking on the fallen as Brother Aloysius helped the wounded miner to a seat.
Lilly glanced across at Diehard and jerked her chin sadly in Bellamy’s direction. Diehard looked over at the seated figure of the banker, still clutching his carpetbag before him.
‘Hot damn,’ breathed Diehard as he noted how the small man was slumped forward over his treasured bag and sat deathly still.
‘Looks like that precious bag of his didn’t do him no good in the end,’ said Lilly.
The banker was dead, a stray bullet having passed clean through the carpetbag and taking him in the heart, killing him instantly.
Lilly stepped over the dead bodies of both Gentry and Ben Rayde and with a passing look at Cole where he lay slumped over the table in a pool of blood, she made her way across to Bellamy.
‘Let’s see what this sucker held so dear all along,’ she said, prying the carpetbag from the dead man’s hands.
‘Leave it alone,’ whispered Diehard.
Lilly raised her eyebrows, ‘Not on your life,’ she said, unfastening the clasps on the bag. ‘I’ll bet this fellow was more than just an errand boy, he’s cleaned out his bank and is on the run, I’ve thought it all along.’
‘Lilly….’ said Diehard.
But Lilly had upended the bag and poured out the contents. Thick blocks of ribbon tied papers broke apart and fell open, fluttering loosely across the bloodstained table. Handwritten bills of lading, lists of inventory, wills and testament of ownership tumbled like snow. Transaction receipts and stamped deeds sealed with wax, legal documents and promissory notes scattered in a pale whirlwind of random leaves.
‘Well, damn me!’ cursed Lilly in disappointment. ‘He was telling the truth all along, he weren’t nothing but a bank messenger after all.’
Diehard sighed and with automatic distraction broke open the Schofield and started to reload.
‘I want you to leave now,’ said Brother Aloysius, not looking at them as he worked on Reggie’s wounded arm. ‘Lothar!’ he called. ‘Where are you, boy? I need clean water, bring salve and bandages.’
Finally looking up at the two standing before him, ‘You have brought great and terrible destruction to this house by your actions,’ he said, his face a picture of grim accusation. ‘I wish you to leave now, there is no longer any sanctuary for you here.’
‘I’m real sorry, Brother,’ said Diehar
d sorrowfully.
‘It weren’t our doing, padre, you have to see that,’ said Lilly indifferently as she slipped her derringer back in her stocking.
‘Murder, this is bloody murder. You’re sins are great,’ reprimanded the monk. ‘I hope God will forgive you, look at the slaughter you have committed. It is a deplorable act in this sacred place.’
‘Brother….’ Diehard began but Lilly tugged on his sleeve.
‘No good, Diehard. We ain’t welcome here no more, time we were gone. I’ll get my stuff and we’ll hit the trail. Come on, I guess you’re heading to the races and I can show you the way.’
Diehard watched guiltily as the little Negro boy scurried forward a bowl in his hands and a towel across his shoulder.
‘Maybe we can help,’ Diehard offered halfheartedly.
‘You have done enough already,’ said Brother Aloysius without looking up from his work. ‘Be gone, I beg of you. I trust God will forgive you as you truly test my ability to do so.’
‘Yes, ride out, you bastard,’ hissed Reggie, through clenched teeth. ‘But you’d better keep looking over your shoulder as I’ll be coming, I swear it.’
Diehard sucked on his teeth and shrugged. He knew none of the real blame could be laid at his door and yet an overwhelming feeling of guilt filled him. It was his mother’s church he had defiled by the killing and, although there had been no other alternative but resistance, still it touched him and gave him cause for concern. Turning away sadly he followed Lilly who had quickly packed a small valise of her belongings and was making for the stairs leading to the stables in the cavern below.
Chapter Ten
The disguised cantilevered section of ground cover that made up the entrance to the underground stable swung up easily on balanced weights and Diehard guided the mules up the ramp and out into the sunlight and the plain beyond. He had tied off the mare to the tailgate of the buckboard and the animal pranced happily at the prospect of leaving the gloomy stable behind. As they left, the doorway dropped back into place and disguised the entrance way completely. To anyone watching it appeared as if the buckboard and its passengers mysteriously rose up from out of the bare desert floor. It was that which caused the watching Angelino’s jaw to drop in awe and gave him momentary pause as Diehard and Lilly rode off.