by John Legg
That brought forth a fusillade from the outlaws’ position. Culpepper’s men hunkered down where they were, and let the outlaws’ bullet whine harmlessly off the stones. About the only effect all the gunfire had was to spook the horses a little, so all the men but Culpepper, Maguire, and Reinhardt went back to help the three men already there calm the animals down.
Finally the gunfire dropped off and Culpepper’s men retook their position along the wall. The shadows were deepening, but the fading sun was right in their eyes. Still, they managed to make sure none of the outlaws was either fleeing or attacking.
About that time, one of the men began a fire and threw some coffee, as well as salt meat and beans, on to cook. Since they would be leaving soon, Culpepper, Reinhardt, and Maguire ate first, filling their bellies against the night’s chill and the coming work.
Dark at last began to arrive in full, and Culpepper and his two special deputies prepared to leave. Each made sure his two pistols were loaded—all six chambers this time—and that their cartridge belts were full. Culpepper pulled on his great bear coat and dumped a box of .44-caliber shells in one pocket. He looked at his two companions.
Maguire and Reinhardt also had pulled on their coats, the former’s of fur-lined canvas, the latter’s of heavy blanket material. Both were short, coming to about halfway down the men’s buttocks. Maguire tied his hat on, but Reinhardt tossed his aside.
“You boys ready?” Culpepper asked.
“Shit yes,” Maguire snapped.
Reinhardt only nodded.
The three walked around the wall and began moving slowly toward the other ruins. Bear padded along silently at Culpepper’s left side. It was near about pitch black, since the moon and stars had not risen yet, but Culpepper had counted on that. The inky night would hide them from the eyes of the outlaws until they were right on top of them. It might cause the three some problems because they couldn’t see, but if necessary, Bear could help them get to the ruins without much trouble, despite the darkness.
They were three-quarters of the way to the ruins, Culpepper estimated, when the sound of horses running suddenly washed over them.
“Shit, goddammit,” Maguire snapped angrily. “The bastards’re gettin’ away.”
A moment later, Bear growled low in his throat, and then several shots rang out.
“I’m goin’ in!” Culpepper shouted. Then, more quietly, “Come on, Bear.” Culpepper drew one of his Remington’s and charged forward, the dog at his side. He moved to his left a little, in case someone had tried to pick up on his voice. Then he ran straight ahead—and straight into one of the walls of the ruins.
“Durn all to Hades and back,” he muttered angrily at himself. He got up, found the pistol he had dropped, and then leaped over the wall, using one hand on it.
A bullet banged off the rocks inches from his head as soon as he landed on the ground. He dropped down to one knee. With relief, he spotted the outlaw in the low glow of the fire. He fired twice, hitting the crouching man twice in the chest. The man went down.
Bear growled fiercely and suddenly shot forward. Culpepper rolled onto his right shoulder and then rolled a few more times before coming to a stop up on one knee again moments later. By then, Bear had an outlaw’s arm in his mouth and was gnawing at it while the outlaw screamed.
The outlaw was frantically trying with his left hand to pick up the gun that had fallen when Bear had latched onto his right arm. He finally managed to get it. He brought it up and clobbered the mastiff on the head. Bear yelped but did not let go of the arm.
“Bear, here!” Culpepper bellowed. “Now!”
The dog let go of the outlaw’s limb, whirled, and dashed toward his master. As soon as the mastiff did that, Culpepper calmly fired twice more.
The outlaw slumped onto his knees, dropping his pistol. His arms swept around his midsection as he fell onto his face.
“Good boy,” Culpepper said, patting Bear a moment. “There anymore? Huh? Is there? Any more outlaws?”
The dog rushed off, and Culpepper rose slowly. Warily he approached the man he had just shot. He stuck a boot toe under the man’s chest and then rolled the outlaw over. The man was still alive, but he wouldn’t linger long. Culpepper knelt and quickly searched the man for weapons. He found another pistol and he shoved it into his coat pocket. He swiftly replaced the four cartridges he had expended.
Bear came trotting back, looking pleased with himself, and plunked himself down next to Culpepper. “Didn’t find no others, then?” Culpepper asked, petting the animal’s head again. “Come on, let’s go see about that other pukin’ scoundrel.”
That outlaw was already stone dead. Culpepper breathed a sigh of relief, but then worry reasserted itself in his stomach.
There still could be more outlaws lurking about, but he seriously doubted it. Still, he had neither seen nor heard from either Maguire or Reinhardt since the first burst of gunfire some minutes ago.
“Buster?” he yelled, trying to keep the urgent worry out of his voice. “John? Where are you rascals?”
It was a few heart shaking minutes before Reinhardt called out, “Over here, Jonas. Outside the wall.”
Reinhardt’s voice hadn’t sounded right to Culpepper, and he hoped his friend was not wounded. He slapped a hand down on the top of the wall and vaulted over it. Then he had to wait a moment before his eyes adjusted to the darkness once again after they had become used to the light cast by the fire.
“Bear, go find Buster,” he finally said. “Come on, take me to Buster.”
The dog moved off, but kept half a step ahead of Culpepper, who kept an ever-so-light hold on the dog’s tail. Finally some shadows moved and he saw Reinhardt, who was crouched or kneeling. Culpepper almost tripped over Maguire’s body before he knew it was there.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, no,” he whispered, as he knelt alongside Maguire’s still figure. His thick fingers felt around on Maguire’s throat, searching for a pulse.
“He’s dead, Jonas,” Reinhardt said flatly. “I figure he died right off.”
“That first fusillade get him?”
“Yeah. I saw him go down, and I knew he was hit just by the way he fell. I’ve seen it too many times before not to know that look. I threw myself down right away and popped off a couple shots of my own, but I don’t think they did any good. I heard you and Bear chargin’ up there, and decided I’d wait where I was, just in case. Hell, I didn’t want to shoot you—or get shot by you—runnin’ around in the dark there.” He sighed. “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” he snapped. Then he calmed himself down some. “You get any of ’em in there, Jonas?” he asked.
“Two. One’s dead. The other wasn’t far from it when I left him. I suppose he’s crossed the divide, too, by now.”
“There any more about?”
“Doubt it. I figure those pukin’ scoundrels were ridin’ out of here when we heard the horses. I expect they left those two just in case we tried somethin’. I suppose they would’ve lit out before dawn and caught up to their cronies.”
“I suppose. But I don’t like it, not knowin’ for sure.”
“Me neither. But if any of those maggots was still there, they’d have shot me down easy, considerin’ I was standin’ right there in the firelight.”
“Yeah, you must be right.” Reinhardt sighed again. John Maguire had not been his best friend or anything. They hardly even socialized outside of this work they did for Culpepper. Still, Maguire had been a good man, and Reinhardt had not minded working with him. He was sad to see his friend—for that’s what he and Maguire were, friends, when all was said and done—die. “What do we do now?”
“Wait here ’til I get back,” Culpepper said. He left and went back into the outlaws’ camp, where he found two horses. He also found the body of the man Maguire had killed earlier in the day. He grabbed that body and tossed it across the saddle of one horse. He did the same with the first man he’d killed, using the same horse. Then he took the third body and put that on the
horse, too. He usually wasn’t nearly so cruel to animals, but the horse would have to walk less than a quarter of a mile with the three bodies on its back.
Culpepper led both horses out around the fallen-down side wall of the ruins and over to where Reinhardt still waited. “Put John’s body up on this horse here, Buster,” he said, indicating the animal with no bodies on it.
Reinhardt did so and then the two men, each leading a horse, and Bear walked slowly back toward their own camp. As they neared it, Culpepper called out, “It’s Jonas and Buster comin’!”
Then they were in the camp, and the posse men were crowding around, full of questions as well as fear.
“Shut up!” Culpepper finally bellowed. “All of you.” When they had quieted down, Culpepper said in an even tone, “John opened his mouth out there, and that gave away his position. Most of the outlaws took off, but they left two behind. They got John, then I got them. The third one there is the one John shot from here this afternoon. That’s all there is to tell. Now leave off with all your questions.”
“I got to ask one more, Sheriff,” Ward Graham said tentatively.
“What’s that?” Culpepper asked, fighting his temper.
“What’ll we do now?”
“What do you want to do?” Culpepper countered.
“Head back to Silverton,” Graham said flatly. “I don’t know about the rest of these boys, but I’ve had enough of this shit of trackin’ outlaws. Not for Anvil Minin’s money. I’m sorry about Maguire’s bein’ dead, but I hardly knew him, and I’ve got no time for grievin’ over him.”
Culpepper rose and turned to face the men. “The rest of you boys feel the same?” No one said or did anything, so Culpepper snapped, “Have the sand to stand up and say what you feel, boys.”
All the men except for Reinhardt nodded their agreement.
Reinhardt was about to berate them all when Culpepper held up his hand to stop him. “Leave them be, Buster,” Culpepper said. “They’re entitled to their opinions. And their feelings. These men’ve been away from their families for what, four, five days, maybe, and it’ll be several more before we get back to Silverton. They’re not like you and me, Buster. You know that as well as I do.”
Reinhardt nodded. He didn’t like it, but he could accept it. “So, what’s next, Sheriff?” he asked.
“We leave for Durango at first light. From there we head home.”
“And then?”
“And then, Buster, I’ll see. If you’re of a mind to join me on my next little mission, I’ll be glad to have you along. But there’s a heap of things got to be done first.”
Reinhardt nodded again. “Anything you need me to do before I take to my bedroll, Jonas?”
“No. Thanks, Buster. Ward, you and Pepper’ll stand guard over the horses. Phelps and Curran, you relieve them in four hours. The rest of you’d best get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
Culpepper had a little trouble getting to sleep himself. Telling the wives of the two posse men who’d been slain was not going to be easy, especially Caroline Maguire. The thought of it gave him an uneasy night.
Culpepper pushed the men as hard as he dared the next day. He knew they could not make it to Durango in one day, but he wanted to make as much distance as possible then to make the run into Durango easier the next day.
Maguire’s body was wrapped in a blanket and tied across his own horse. Brown’s body also was blanket wrapped and tied on his horse. The three dead outlaws were tied to the horses taken from the outlaw camp—two on one horse, one on the other. The next day, the bodies were switched on those horses.
It was well past dark when Culpepper called a halt and allowed camp. The men were tired and complained some about the pace and the many hours they had ridden that day. But they didn’t grouse too much. Each mile they had put behind them today was one less mile they had to go before getting to Silverton.
Four other men split the horse-guarding duties. They grumbled about that, saying that there was no need for it now as there had been the night before.
But Culpepper was taking no chances. “Just because those pukin’ scoundrels rode off out of that camp last night doesn’t mean they went all that far. They could be right on our tails, lookin’ to get revenge for sendin’ their three cronies across the divide.”
That was enough to quiet the men down, though it did nothing to help the others sleep comfortably. Most kept waking throughout the night, sure they heard outlaws creeping into their camp to kill them in their bedrolls.
Chapter Twelve
They rode into Durango under the interested eyes of a fair portion of the town. Durango was a wild enough place at the best of times, but it was still unusual for a posse to coming riding into the city with five bodies dangling over saddles.
Culpepper stopped them in front of the office of La Plata County Sheriff Frank Hammond. Culpepper dismounted. Everyone waited on their horses as Culpepper and Bear went into the office.
“Back so soon?” Hammond asked. It seemed to Culpepper as if Hammond had not moved since the last time he’d come into the office. “Any luck?”
“We picked off three of those maggots.”
“That’s good news. I didn’t think you’d even find ’em.”
“But we lost two men from the posse.”
“That’s not good,” Hammond agreed. “Am I the first to know?”
“Yep. Except for the people standin’ outside gapin’ at my men.”
“Why?”
“I need your help.”
“Doin’ what?”
“I need your undertaker to fix up my two men.”
“Go see Marshal Hernandez for that. That’s his jurisdiction.”
“I will. I also need your help in gettin’ the reward money for those three maggots we killed.”
“You’re in a hell of a hurry.”
“Yes I am. You should have paper on all three of them. I think their names are Buckley, Knight, and Chamberlain. I don’t know how much they’re worth, but I figure it’s at least a couple hundred each.”
“I’d say so.” Hammond did not move.
“I’d be obliged if you was to find the papers on them so we can get this taken care of.”
“Come on, Sheriff,” Hammond said easily. “You know it ain’t that easy. There’s paperwork to fill out, and banks to deal with, and all that kind of shit. You leave the three bodies here. I’ll get all the particulars in my own good time and send the money up to Silverton.”
“You don’t seem to understand, Frank,” Culpepper said flatly. “We’re leavin’ tomorrow. And I want that reward money in my pocket when I do leave.”
“Jesus, you’re a money-grubbin’ son of a bitch, ain’t you, Jonas?” Hammond said, not asked.
Culpepper got up from his chair and reached over the desk. He grabbed Hammond’s shirtfront in his big left hand and jerked Hammond forward until his face was only inches away.
“Now, you listen to me, you maggot-eatin’ little puke,” Culpepper said harshly. “I’ve got two dead men out there’. One of them’s a good friend of mine. I’ve got to go back to Silverton and tell their wives that they died doin’ their duty. I ain’t going to do that without some kind of money to give them to tide them over and maybe ease the pain of their losses a little.”
“Well, don’t get so goddamn uppity, Sheriff,” Hammond said with a distinct quiver of nervousness in his voice. “I didn’t realize...I wasn’t thinkin’ about that.”
“It’s obvious you weren’t thinkin’ at all, you maggot,” Culpepper said, still roughly. He shoved Hammond back into his seat. “I’ll go speak to Ed Hernandez about the undertakin’. But I expect you to take care of this other. I aim to be on the durn train when it pulls out tomorrow mornin’. Either I have the reward money in my pocket when I get on the train, or I’ll pay you another visit. I have to do that, it won’t be as pleasant as this visit. And you’d best goddamn heed what I just said, boy.”
Hammond
blanched. Anyone who knew Jonas Culpepper more than an hour knew that if he ever used a curse word, then he was deadly serious, and mighty angry. “Yeah, yeah, Sheriff. It’ll be ready. Hell, I’ll bring it over to the train myself. Sure thing.”
“Make sure of it.” Culpepper spun. “Come on, Bear,” he said, walking out. Outside, Culpepper mounted his horse and silently led the way to Marshal Hernandez’s office. His reception there was considerably more favorable than it had been in Hammond’s. Culpepper quickly explained what he needed.
“I can see to that for you, Jonas,” Hernandez said. “You just leave your friends with me and I’ll make sure they get taken care of. I’ll have them in nice coffins, waitin’ for you at the train station in the morning. You can leave the outlaws, too. I’ll see that they get cheap coffins and get buried over near the cemetery.”
“I appreciate it, Ed,” Culpepper said, feeling relieved.
Culpepper and his men were just loading their horses onto a small boxcar on the narrow-gauge train when Hammond arrived. He looked nervous, and he pulled out a wad of cash. “Seven hundred dollars,” he said. “Three hundred on Chamberlain, two hundred each on Buckley and Knight.” He shrugged. “The bank’d only give it to me in paper money,” he said apologetically.
“That’ll do,” Culpepper said, as he took the cash. He stood and patiently counted it in front of Hammond, making almost a show of it. “It’s all there,” he finally said, stuffing the money into a pocket. “Thank you for your help, Sheriff.” He turned, dismissing him.
Meanwhile, his men finished loading the horses. Moments later, Hernandez arrived. Behind him were two hearses moving slowly, majestically. The hearses stopped and several men took one coffin out of one and carried it to another train car. That done, they did the same with the second. Then the hearses moved off again, their large black horses almost prancing.
“I hope that’s satisfactory, Jonas,” Hernandez said. “It was kind of a hurried job.”
“It appears to be all we could ask for, Ed. How much do I owe you—or the undertaker—for it?”