Ambush at Shadow Valley

by Ralph Cotton

  ‘‘Real? I’m not the one to ask,’’ Sam said. ‘‘But the more I acknowledge Satan’s power, whether he’s real or not, the more power I give up to him. Suelo Soto’s demons are only as powerful as I allow them to be over me.’’

  Hector thought about it. ‘‘Then you have no fear in facing them?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ Sam replied, ‘‘I had better not, unless I want them to win. When a man becomes too afraid of his enemy, he’ll give up his fight without firing a shot. He starts to think it’s useless to even try.’’ He looked at Hector with a raised brow and asked, ‘‘What about you, Guardia, are you afraid of your enemies . . . afraid to even fight your demons?’’

  ‘‘You saw me kill one of the demons who stood over me while I sat sleeping,’’ Hector said in defense. ‘‘You tell me if I am afraid.’’

  Sam allowed himself a thin smile. ‘‘You’re afraid of nothing, Hector. But you’re still young enough to question those things you were raised to believe in.’’

  ‘‘You do not question those things you were raised to believe in?’’ Hector asked.

  ‘‘No,’’ said Sam, ‘‘my job is to stop evil men, not question evil itself. The evil I see in some men would cause Satan to run for cover.’’ He nudged his stallion forward; Hector did the same beside him.

  They rode on.

  By midafternoon, the two stopped in the shelter of the treed hillside overlooking the Pierman hacienda. Gazing down onto the front yard and checking all around for any sign of Soto or his Satan’s Brothers, Sam said, ‘‘Seems peaceful enough down there. But for all we know, Soto and Beck could be lying in wait. As much as I want to believe Memphis Beck would have no hand in what we’ve seen, he’s still an outlaw . . . a tricky one at that.’’

  Looking at the big paint horse standing beside Beck’s at the hitch rail, Hector said almost with a sigh, ‘‘There is my brother Ramon’s horse. I am taking it back with me, the way Ramon would want me to do. . . .’’

  Inside the hacienda, Beck looked out the window with a pair of binoculars raised to his eyes, a rifle leaning on the wall beside him. He scanned the hillside and trail for any sign of Soto or the men in their white peasant clothes, like the two whose bodies he had dragged inside the hacienda and into the bedroom earlier. ‘‘Two riders coming, Clair,’’ he said over his shoulder to Clarimonde, who had gathered the dead men’s straw hats and stood feeding them into the hearth fire.

  Beck took the binoculars down from his eyes and continued watching the two figures as Clarimonde slipped in beside him. ‘‘It’s Ranger Burrack,’’ Beck said, recognizing the ranger’s pearl gray sombrero, then the man himself. ‘‘I don’t know who the other man is.’’

  ‘‘Is this going to be trouble?’’ Clarimonde asked quietly, staring out with him.

  ‘‘Sam Burrack is always trouble,’’ Beck said. ‘‘But he’s fair for a lawman. Anyway, he’s got nothing on us. We’ll see what he wants and try to get rid of him as quickly as we can.’’

  As Sam and Hector neared the weathered and crumbling hacienda, Beck called out from the open window, ‘‘That’s close enough, Burrack. The next step gets you a bullet in the belly.’’

  The ranger motioned for Hector to stop his horse beside him. Then he allowed his stallion one more step and brought him to a halt. ‘‘I’m hunting Suelo Soto,’’ Sam called out.

  ‘‘He’s not here. What else?’’ Beck replied, the barrel of his rifle visible at the open window ledge.

  ‘‘I didn’t think he would be,’’ Sam said. ‘‘But I believe he will be soon enough.’’

  ‘‘Oh? Why’s that?’’ Beck asked.

  ‘‘Because he and his pards, in white clothes and straw sombreros, are tracking your men down, killing them one by one,’’ Sam said. ‘‘We’ve found two of them dead so far.’’

  Beck winced at the thought. But knowing the ranger wouldn’t be lying to him about such a thing, he had to ask, ‘‘Who’d you find, Burrack?’’

  ‘‘We found Earl Caplan, not far from the train robbery,’’ Sam said. ‘‘Then we found Bowen Flannery, four or five miles farther on. They’d both been robbed. Both of them were hacked to death with machetes.’’

  Beck made no reply. After a silence, Sam asked, ‘‘Do you have the goatherd’s daughter, Clarimonde, with you?’’

  ‘‘Yes, she’s with me,’’ said Beck.

  ‘‘You’ve got to set her free,’’ Sam said. ‘‘We’re taking her back where she belongs.’’

  ‘‘I’m not giving her up, Ranger,’’ Beck said. ‘‘She doesn’t want to leave me. You see what kind of murderer Soto is. What do you think he’ll do to her if she’s on her own right now?’’

  Sam couldn’t argue with his reasoning, but he said anyway, ‘‘If she wants to stay, I’ll have to hear it from her. She’ll have to make me believe it.’’

  ‘‘Tell him,’’ Soto said to Clarimonde, standing beside him.

  ‘‘I’m staying with Memphis,’’ Clarimonde called out the window.

  Sam and Hector looked at each other, both glad to hear her voice, after all their time trying to catch up to her. But then Sam called out, ‘‘That’s not good enough, Beck. Both of you step out on the porch and put some space between you. I want to believe she doesn’t have a gun to her back.’’

  Beck shook his head. ‘‘Always the rough, tough lawman, eh, Ranger?’’ he said.

  ‘‘Out on the porch, right now, Beck,’’ Sam repeated, without acknowledging Beck’s words. ‘‘I want to see her and know she’s all right.’’

  Slowly Clarimonde stepped out of the hacienda and to one side of the porch, Beck coming out cautiously beside her, the rifle raised in his hands. ‘‘I’m keeping you covered, Burrack,’’ Beck said, his thumb over the rifle hammer. ‘‘Don’t try anything.’’

  ‘‘Hector, if you hear his rifle cock,’’ Sam said, ‘‘don’t wait for me. You drop him.’’

  "Sí, I understand,’’ Hector replied, his hand on his holstered gun butt.

  ‘‘Ma’am,’’ the ranger said, touching the brim of his sombrero toward Clarimonde, ‘‘we’re both grateful to see you alive and well. Now, if you’ll please move farther away from Memphis Beck, we’d be obliged.’’

  Clarimonde did as she was told, but only after a nod from Beck. ‘‘I’m all right as you can see, Ranger,’’ she said, ‘‘and I do appreciate you both searching for me.’’ She looked back and forth between Hector and the ranger. ‘‘It wasn’t Memphis Beck or any of his men who kidnapped me. It was Soto and Nate Ransdale, nobody else.’’

  ‘‘We know that, ma’am,’’ said Sam. ‘‘We followed the string of killing and bloodletting those two left behind them.’’ He looked her up and down, making certain for himself that she wasn’t being forced to say anything against her will. ‘‘I’ve got some good news for you. Your shepherd dog that Soto thought he killed was alive and mending when we left the old mission. I expect she’ll be eager to see you real soon.’’

  ‘‘Oh my, Bess is alive. . . .’’ Clarimonde raised her hands to her mouth; her eyes welled. She turned, teary-eyed and smiling, toward Beck, to whom she had told everything on their way to the hacienda.

  ‘‘We’re obliged, you both coming here,’’ Beck said to the ranger. ‘‘As you can see, she’s all right. I won’t let nothing happen to her. You’ve got my word on that.’’ He stared closely at Sam and said, ‘‘As long as Soto thinks she’s alive, not only she, but her father and their animals are not safe. You know what Soto is. You know I’m right.’’

  ‘‘Hector and I are taking him down, Beck,’’ Sam said with determination.

  ‘‘Best of luck, Ranger, but you and Hector haven’t done it yet,’’ Beck replied.

  Sam stared at him, realizing that he had a plan of some sort in mind. Knowing Beck, whatever it was, it would be as good as any he and Hector could come up with. As long as Soto and any of his demons remained alive, Sam understood that Clarimonde’s father and their way of life would be i
n danger. That was something he and Beck could both agree on.

  Seeing the conversation about to wind down, Hector said to Beck as he pointed to the big paint horse, ‘‘That horse belonged to my brother. Suelo Soto killed him for it. I must take it back.’’

  ‘‘Take it,’’ said Beck.

  Hector eased his horse over, lifted the paint’s reins from the hitch rail and pulled the animal in beside him.

  ‘‘Where’s he headed, Beck?’’ Sam asked suddenly.

  ‘‘Back to where he came from, Ranger,’’ Beck said without hesitation, both of them knowing he was talking about Suelo Soto.

  ‘‘You mean to Shadow Valley, where all the Satan’s Brothers will protect him,’’ Hector cut in, a concerned look coming upon his face.

  ‘‘That’s where I would look,’’ Beck said as if concluding the conversation. His expression softened a bit and he said, ‘‘Thanks for telling me about Flannery and Caplan.’’

  Sam only nodded at Beck. He touched his fingers to the brim of his sombrero and said to Clarimonde, ‘‘Ma’am,’’ and turned his stallion back out of the yard toward the trail.

  As the two lawmen rode away, Beck stared after them and said to Clarimonde, ‘‘Well, that’s done. I know he means well as far as helping you goes. But he lives strictly by the book. He refuses to ever look the other way, or step short of the law for any reason. It’s hard to trust a man like that.’’

  Clarimonde also stared off behind the ranger and Hector, her eyes still misty. ‘‘I am so happy my Bess is alive. I must go to her. I want to hold her, to tell her how much I love her, and take her home to Papa, so he will see that we’re both all right.’’

  ‘‘All in time, Clair,’’ said Beck. ‘‘But if you want your papa and your shepherds safe, this comes first, the way we agreed to do it.’’

  ‘‘Yes, I know.’’ Clarimonde sniffed and dabbed her sleeve to her eyes. ‘‘Do you think those two will ride all the way to Shadow Valley, tonight?’’

  ‘‘Yes, I believe they will,’’ said Beck. ‘‘He knows that sooner or later Soto is going to be there. He wants him bad enough, he’s willing to go there and wait it out. Meanwhile, we had better get ready, and do what we need to do here.’’

  Fifty yards along the trail, Sam and Hector veered up onto the hillside. ‘‘Do you think Soto and his demons will be coming here tonight?’’ Hector asked, leading the big paint behind him.

  ‘‘I’m counting on it,’’ Sam said. ‘‘So is Memphis Beck, the way I read him. He’s got something in mind for Soto when he gets here. He thinks it’s something he can’t trust us with. That’s why he wanted to send us off to Shadow Valley. He wants us out of his way.’’

  ‘‘But whatever happens tonight, we will be here waiting for Suelo Soto and his demons, eh?’’

  ‘‘Without a doubt, Hector,’’ Sam said, ‘‘we’re going to be here, whether Memphis Beck likes it or not.’’

  Chapter 23

  As darkness fell moonless and black around the hacienda and the surrounding hillsides, Clarimonde heard Beck walk away from the corral, leading his horses and the horse that had belonged to Dave Arken off toward a stand of woods. A moment later she heard him returning toward the hacienda, this time alone, having hitched the horses to a scrub juniper inside the tree line. ‘‘We can’t risk finding them butchered in the corral,’’ he said, stepping inside through the rear door.

  ‘‘Did you see anything, hear anything?’’ Clarimonde asked, a bit anxiously.

  ‘‘No,’’ Beck replied. ‘‘But I wouldn’t anyway, not unless Soto wanted me to.’’ He reached out, took her by her shoulders and drew her to him firmly, but gently. ‘‘It’s going to be all right. You’ll see. I know how this man thinks—so do you. We both know how he is going to come at us. We’ll be ready.’’

  She allowed herself to relax for a moment in Beck’s arms, feeling safer than she had for a long time. ‘‘Perhaps we should have told the ranger—’’

  ‘‘Shhh,’’ said Beck, cutting her off. ‘‘We can handle ourselves. Look at everything you’ve been through. The ranger might have been on his way, but he wasn’t there. You did it on your own. You’re the one who found your way out from under Suelo Soto. You freed yourself.’’

  She thought about it, and decided not to question the matter any further. Instead she said, ‘‘Now that I know my shepherd, Bess, is alive, as soon as this is over, I want to go to her and take her home.’’

  ‘‘We can do that as soon as it’s safe for you,’’ Beck said. ‘‘Did you give any thought to what we talked about?’’ On their ride to the hacienda he had invited her to travel with him and the gang. She hadn’t responded and he didn’t push the subject too hard right then.

  ‘‘Yes,’’ she said, ‘‘and I’m afraid that is not the life for me. I have lived wild and dangerously in the past. All I want now is to live simply, and to sleep well of a night. I am sorry if I disappoint you.’’

  ‘‘Don’t be sorry.’’ Beck smiled. ‘‘I haven’t given up on you yet. I still have some time. I plan on talking you into it.’’

  ‘‘No,’’ Clarimonde said amiably, ‘‘if I were interested you would not have to talk me into it.’’ She gave him a tired smile.

  ‘‘Seeing Paris, sunny Italy, South America? Instead of being Clair, your new name would be ‘Lady Dynamite’? None of that excites you?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Lady Dynamite . . .’’ She shook head slowly. ‘‘There was a time, perhaps, when it would have excited me,’’ she admitted. ‘‘But not anymore. Life had its way with me long ago. Now I want only to tend goats with my papa and spend time with my shepherds. Please don’t try to dissuade me. It will only make me feel bad, turning you down.’’

  ‘‘Ah,’’ said Beck, seeing an opening and reaching in for it. ‘‘If it makes you feel bad turning it down, maybe you just need to think about it some more?’’

  Clarimonde looked at him closely and said, ‘‘I know that if you talked enough about it, I will give in. I know that if I think enough about it, perhaps I will change my mind. But try to understand that I do not want you to talk me into it. I do not want to talk myself into it. A terrible event has taken place in my life. Now that it is over, I don’t want to let it change anything. I want my life to go on as it was.’’

  ‘‘But shouldn’t you be able to take something good out of it?’’ Beck asked.

  ‘‘I want nothing from it,’’ she said, ‘‘except to wake up and have it gone, like someone awakens from a bad dream.’’

  Beck sighed and relaxed his arms around her. ‘‘All right, I give up,’’ he said. ‘‘But we’ve still got a deal on you mixing explosives for me?’’ As he spoke, he turned an oil lamp down low and carried it to the bedroom.

  ‘‘A deal is a deal.’’ She smiled, following him. ‘‘I will be back with Papa and the herd as soon as it is safe. When you need me, you will know where to find me.’’

  ‘‘All right then,’’ said Beck. ‘‘Now for the rest of the deal.’’ He set the dimly glowing lamp on a nightstand, and said as he turned it even dimmer, ‘‘It’s bedtime, Clair. Are you ready to ride?’’

  ‘‘Yes, I’m ready. Are you?’’ Clarimonde smiled. She loosened her clothes, stepped out of them and let them fall in a heap on the floor beside the bed. Beck looked at her standing naked before him in the dim glow of the light.

  ‘‘Oh, yes,’’ said Beck, as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. He tossed the shirt onto a chair beside the nightstand. He took off his hat and his gun belt and hung them both on a chair back. Then he slipped his Colt from its holster and held it to his naked chest. ‘‘After you,’’ he said in a gentlemanly manner.

  From across a short stretch of flatlands to the west of the hacienda, Suelo Soto had seen the lamplight go low. He smiled thinly to himself watching the dim glow travel from window to window through the hacienda, like a ghost. Behind him Satan’s Brothers waited with the horses, keeping the animals as silent as themselves.


  But Soto was in no hurry. He gave Beck and the woman all the time they needed—plenty of time to sate themselves with one another, he told himself. He could wait. While he waited, he sat deftly cutting cord for the two canvas-wrapped balls of clay he had tied together. Down between the two balls he had stuck three vials of pure nitroglycerin. A gift from hell, all for you, Memphis Beck and Clarimonde . . .

  When a half hour had passed, just as the brothers behind him had begun giving one another questioning looks, their eyes adjusting some to the darkness but still unable to see clearly, Soto rose into a crouch, a black cigar smoldering in his mouth, and moved away toward the dimly lit window of the hacienda.

  Once beneath the half-opened window, he pulled himself up enough to look into the dim light. He saw where Clarimonde and Beck had shed their clothes. He saw the empty holster, knowing that Beck would be the kind of man to sleep with his gun beneath his pillow. But tonight his gun wouldn’t help him, Soto thought, easing down the deadly balls of explosives by their cord until they rested on the floor.

  I hope the whore was worth it, Memphis Beck . . . , he said to himself, looking at the exposed arm lying draped sidelong out from under the sheet. Instead of puffing the cigar to stoke it, he jammed the cord down into the blackened tip and twisted it back and forth until it found the buried fire and began to sizzle to life.

  Easing back to the ground beneath the window, he waited only a second with his gun drawn, making sure the burning fuse cord didn’t awaken the sleeping lovers. Then he slipped away into the darkness as silently as he’d arrived. . . .

  Lower down on the hillside where the two lawmen had set up watch from the cover of the trees, Sam had noted the faint, reddish glow of fire from the cigar move down the hillside toward the hacienda. Instantly he’d recognized it and realized what was going on. ‘‘That’s him. That’s Suelo Soto,’’ he’d said to Hector, sitting eight feet away. ‘‘He’s making his move.’’

  Hector had seen the cigar at the same time. He rose quickly, followed Sam to the horses and jumped into the saddle. Leaving the big paint horse hitched to a tree, the two lawmen raced across the stretch of flatlands toward the house. But halfway across, the air around them came alive with whistling bullets slicing past their heads. To their right along a hill line, heavy rifle fire flashed like angry fireflies. Rather than sacrifice his stallion, Sam reined up quickly, grabbed his rifle from its boot and leaped from his saddle. Giving the stallion a slap on the rump he shouted, ‘‘Go, Black Pot!’’ Then he dived to the ground.