by Phil Dunlap
“Well, he did what you asked, and it worked out for the best. But enough about me, what happened?”
“I was shot, but ol’ Jack here plugged Scat Crenshaw before he could finish me off. Blade Coffman got away, though. He’s probably already told Cruz that I’m down. They’ll figure they ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. Do they know you ain’t their prisoner anymore?”
“Not unless someone came to the cabin. They probably figure I’m still there, all trussed up like a Christmas goose, just pining away for that handsome Scat to try fondlin’ me some more. I’m glad to hear he’s laid out cold.”
“Did that devil Scat lay a hand on you?”
“He thought real hard on it, but fate seemed to step in each time he took a mind to.”
“So you aren’t hurt?”
“No, thank God.”
She squeezed his hand. He pulled her closer, wincing in the process.
“What can we do now?” she asked.
“With Scat and Dogman both dead, Cruz has only Blade and Ben to handle the gun work, and a handful of other men, none of whom has any real shootin’ skills,” said Cotton. “You two help me out to my horse, and I think we can wrestle that critter to the ground.”
“You’re not up to any ridin’, pardner,” said Jack. “Miss Emily brought her crew in, and together I think we can mess up Cruz’s plans easy. If the lady will agree to such an arrangement.”
“The lady does agree, Mr. Stump. Go to it.” Emily blurted out.
“I’ve got a stake in this, Jack, you don’t. It’s my job. So how about a hand here, ol’ buddy?” said Cotton.
Jack turned and started for the door. “Not today, Cotton. Me and the Wagner bunch got our work cut out for us, and we got no use for a crippled sheriff taggin’ along. Adios.” He hurried outside to gather Emily’s men and work out a plan to stop the robbery.
Cotton finished tucking his shirt in his pants. He took his gun belt off the chair and strapped it on.
“You should listen to your friend, Cotton. I have a feeling that Jack, Henry, and the rest of my bunch will prove a formidable force against Cruz’s cutthroats,” said Emily.
She saw an approving smile come across his lips as she took his hand, then kissed his cheek. The look on his face suggested he was feeling better, but deadly serious about his next move.
“I have a score to settle with Cruz for what he did to you, and I’ll not let anything stand in my way. Tell me the location of the cabin where he held you.”
“Why?”
“You’re the hole card in this game, Emily. And Cruz intends on playing it. Believe me when I say if Henry hadn’t come when he did, Cruz would never have let you live. If he escapes Jack’s attempt to stop the robbery, he’ll need a hostage to help him get out of the county. If I’m right, he’ll come back for you. I aim to see this game play out to the end.”
Chapter 55
“Dad, they’ve just ridden out,” yelled Cappy as he burst into Hank’s bedroom.
“Good. We ain’t got much time, so you gotta pay attention. First, tell Wu Chang to get up here with two loaded shotguns. Then, you ride into town and see if you can find that Memphis Jack fella. Tell ’im we got ourselves a passel of trouble out here and we need him, pronto. Got that?” said Hank.
“Yessir. I’ll leave right away. You think you and Chang can hold Cruz off till I get back?”
“If he comes chargin’ through that door, he’ll get a face full of buckshot for sure. Now, git.”
Cappy took the stairs two at a time. After giving Wu Chang instructions, he saddled up and tore through the gate like his britches were aflame. When he rode into town, he went straight to the sheriff’s office.
“Deputy, it’s me, Cappy Brennan. Where are you?” he looked back by the jail cells, then outside where the outhouse was. Unable to find anyone, he went to the saloon, to find it closed up, a board nailed across the doors. A paper was tacked to the door frame saying that the owner, One-Eyed Billy Black, had been murdered by Blade Coffman and that the burial would be today.
“Damn,” said Cappy to no one in particular. He looked around, finding the town uncommonly quiet. He went to the middle of the rutted street and began shouting for someone, anyone, to come out. After several minutes, the doctor opened his door and peeked out.
“What’s all the commotion, boy?”
Cappy ran up to the doctor’s porch, out of breath, and told him of the happenings out at the Double-B ranch. The doctor told him to come inside and tell it to the sheriff.
“I heard the sheriff was killed.”
“Not by a long shot, son,” said the doctor.
When Cappy saw the sheriff bandaged up and a red bloom leaking through, his spirits dropped.
“What is it, Cappy?” said Cotton. Emily was seated beside him.
Gasping for breath, Cappy tore off his hat and began stammering out his story about Cruz’s threat to take over the Brennan spread, and that Wu Chang was waiting by his father’s bed with a shotgun in case Cruz came back and found Hank still alive, and Jack wasn’t around to help, and—
“Whoa. Hold on there, son. I can’t keep up with all this. Where is Cruz right now?”
“He rode off with all his men early this morning, soon after dawn. I think they’re up to something, because I’ve heard talk of them all gettin’ rich.”
“Uh-huh. They’re plannin’ to rob the railroad up near the water stop.”
“What are we goin’ to do?”
“I reckon we’re goin’ to have to hope that ol’ Memphis Jack comes through on his promise to bring Cruz down.”
Cappy frowned and said, “Yeah. I reckon that’s all we can do.”
“Not quite. You ride on back to your father and be ready to add your gun to his and Wu Chang’s. The three of you should make Cruz think twice before bustin’ in. But if Jack does what he says he’s intendin’ on doin’, by sundown there won’t be enough of the Cruz gang left to worry about. Now, go on, son, you can do it. I got somethin’ needs doin’, then I’ll ride out your way.”
When Cappy left, Emily leaned over to Cotton. “Isn’t there anything I can do, Cotton?”
“Yep, there is one thing. You can take this over to the telegraph office and get it sent off real quick.” He touched the end of a pencil stub to his tongue, tore off a piece of paper from one of the doctor’s ledgers, and scribbled some instructions on it. He folded the paper and handed it to Emily.
“What’s this?”
“It’s something I should have done earlier. I been so damned worried about you, well, my head’s been kinda foggy. It’s a warning about Cruz’s intentions. Send it to the railway stop at Gopher Crossing. That’s the last water stop before the train reaches the pass. This’ll explain the situation to the marshal. Maybe he can hold the train up until they can get a posse together. Jack would probably welcome the help.”
“I expect he would at that,” said Emily, as she hurried out the door.
Cruz had his men in position, awaiting sounds of an approaching train. If it was on time, it should be rounding the bend in less than thirty minutes, just before starting up the incline that would lead it into the trap that would relieve its express car of about a million dollars. One of Cruz’s men had used a stick with a rag wrapped around the top to lather a healthy coating of grease on both tracks for almost a quarter mile where the tracks began their climb to the top. Blade was ready with his dynamite, and Ben had already placed his stick under the rail and was ready to strike a Lucifer to the fuse. They were all tense as they awaited Cruz’s signal to start the operation. Cruz sat atop a boulder gazing through a single-lens telescope, hoping to spot the train long before it got to their position. He would wave a white handkerchief to tell those below that the train was on its way. But time was slipping away and there was no sign of a train.
“Virgil, what could be holding it up?” said Ben.
“Just be patient. It’ll get here. The newspaper said so, and newspapers don’t lie and n
either do editors,” Cruz added with a snicker.
Just then, Blade came rushing up. “Virgil, put your glass on that cloud of dust yonder. What the hell could be comin’? It ain’t some cattle stampede, is it?”
Virgil whirled around, peering through his telescope. “Son of a bitch. It looks like we’re about to have a war on our hands.”
“Who is it?” said Blade.
“I’d swear it looks like that Memphis Jack fella, and he’s got the Wagner bunch with him. How the hell’d they get loose? Limber up your gun hands, boys, and prepare for a shoot-out.”
“What about the train, Virgil?” said Ben. “We can’t handle them both at the same time.”
“Wait a spell, then blow the track, Ben. Half of you men get ready to board ’er when she comes to a stop. The rest of you come with me. We’ll put a stop to that bunch of cowpunchers and that meddlesome Memphis Jack in short order.”
Chapter 56
The desert leading to where Jack had figured to find Virgil and his men was rocky and rutted from the runoff of storms that blew through during the monsoons. As the ground slowly rose to finally reach a plateau, the railway came into view, and Jack saw why Cruz had chosen this particular location to hit the train. The tracks turned to avoid an area of building-size boulders in their path then continued up a long, steep grade to the top.
“Well, boys, it looks like ol’ Cruz found himself a pretty good spot for an ambush,” Jack said, turning in the saddle. He pulled out his rifle, levered a cartridge into the chamber, and grinned broadly. “But we aren’t goin’ to put up with that nonsense, are we?”
“You bet your ass we ain’t,” one of the cowboys shouted to the agreement of the others.
“Then, let’s hit ’em hard. Maybe even surprise ’em some. If we can pick off a few before the train gets here, the whole plan might crumble before that devil’s eyes.”
The first shots were fired from horseback as Jack and the Wagner boys came straight at Cruz and some of his men who’d tried to seek protection behind a copse of trees and rocky outcroppings. One of the Wagner bunch was knocked off his horse by a well-aimed rifle shot, but most of the firing from six-shooters went wild. Jack could see that Cruz’s men weren’t prepared for a cavalry-style charge against their position, and a couple of them broke and ran back toward where Blade and Ben were hunkered down near the tracks. When Cruz saw this, he started screaming at them, calling them cowards. He fired a warning shot and accidentally hit the one closest to him in the back. The man tumbled to the ground, blood burbling from his mouth as he died.
Jack signaled to his men to hold up and dismount.
“We’ll go in on foot from here. No sense getting our horses shot to pieces,” he shouted. “Follow their trail uphill. But watch yourselves, they’ll be itchin’ to fill us full of lead.”
The men quickly dismounted and took up the chase. Cruz’s men began firing haphazardly over their shoulders, killing nothing more significant than a few silver dollar cacti and chipping the occasional boulder. Henry Coyote drew up short, put his rifle to his shoulder, and squeezed off a shot at one of Cruz’s men. The man was knocked off his feet by the impact of the bullet. He died facedown in the dirt, his body pierced by a thousand tiny barbs from the cholla cactus he had fallen into.
“Nice shootin’ there, Henry,” said Jack, as the two trotted side by side in pursuit of the outlaws.
“He shoot at horse. Unforgivable among my people. He had to pay,” said Henry, with a wry grin.
When Jack and the Wagner men got to the top of a rise, they found that the Cruz gang was holed up in surroundings that would make it difficult to dislodge them without a prolonged gun battle. As he studied the natural fortifications behind which Cruz and his men had taken up positions, Jack’s hopes for a quick victory needed a more realistic reevaluation. Jack motioned for his men to take cover and conserve ammunition.
“Make your shots count, men,” he shouted, “and don’t waste any bullets on gophers.”
Henry crawled closer to Jack. “What we do now?”
“We bide our time, keep ’em pinned down, and be happy that train ain’t on time.”
“When iron horse come?” said Henry.
“By my watch, about twenty minutes ago.” Jack snapped his watch closed and returned it to his vest pocket. He saw no sign of a train approaching. “I wonder if something’s wrong.”
Since Jack’s men had slowed their firing, Cruz told his men to stay put also. The sun burned down with a vengeance. Jack watched a buildup of dark clouds rising rapidly over the mountains to the west. Dirt devils spun up from the thousands of acres of desert, heralding an increase of wind in front of the coming storm. It appeared that Cruz and his men could hold out in their present positions for a long time, and Jack could do little to change that. Throwing bullets in their direction would just be a waste of lead. He had to come up with a way to move them away from the tracks. He was shaken from his thoughts as an explosion threw dirt fifty feet into the air. A lingering cloud of smoke and dust came from the pass near the top of the rail incline.
“Damn! They’ve blown the track up ahead. Now, even if we could have kept them from jumping the train, the engine will either have to stop or be derailed,” Jack growled. “And they’re dug in all along the pass.”
“Iron horse late,” said Henry.
“Very late, Henry, very late. If this was a special express carrying a fortune, wouldn’t you figure it would be on time?” Jack said, not really expecting an answer, because he suddenly thought he might already know. He called one of the Wagner bunch to come to his position.
“Yessir,” said a tousled-hair young man.
“I want you to get your horse and beat it back to town. The sheriff might still be at Doc Winters’s. I need to know if he had a telegram sent to stop the train somewhere west of here. Understand? Then get back here as soon as possible.”
“Yessir” was all the man said as he took off at a dead run down the hill toward his horse. A few bullets were sent his way by Cruz’s men, but the distance was too great for any accuracy, and he made a clean getaway.
“You know reason iron horse not come?” said Henry.
“Maybe. If Cotton somehow got the train stopped, that would keep the money out of Cruz’s hands. But we still have to get rid of that scum.”
“How we get behind them?”
“I don’t know, but trying to hold us off while they wait for a train that may or may not be coming, with a storm brewin’, can’t be making them real comfortable. If I can get around that pile of rocks yonder, with you fellas throwin’ lead at ’em, maybe we’ll convince ’em to cut and run.”
“I go with you,” said Henry. Without waiting for Jack to answer, he passed the word on to the others of what was planned, then fell in behind Jack as he scurried off to find cover along a dry streambed that looked like it might lead around the hill the Cruz boys were camped out on.
A couple of Cruz’s men saw Jack and Henry make a break for it and began firing their way. One bullet came close enough that Jack ducked at the impact in the dirt, lost his footing, and went tumbling down a gravelly slope and into a pile of dead cacti. After sitting for several minutes pulling dozens of cactus needles from his butt and leg, he cursed a few choice words then continued his quest for a way around the outlaws’ position.
Henry shook his head at Jack as if he wasn’t certain he should be following someone so clumsy.
The two of them reached a point where the ground sloped away steeply, with no way up to offer adequate cover from Cruz’s guns. Only if they attempted an assault on a treacherous rocky incline on the east side of the pass could they hope to get to the top in a position to shoot down on their prey. Henry studied Jack’s expression as he seemed to ponder the situation for what the Apache obviously thought was too long. Henry grabbed the roots of a long dead tree sticking out of the dirt and began pulling himself up to where he could get purchase on a slab of granite jutting from the side of the incline
. Jack watched in wonder at the agility the Indian showed. Halfway up, Henry looked back at Jack as if to say, “What you waiting for?”
Jack got the message, sighed deeply, then began what he was certain would be a quick and painful trip to the bottom of the hill.
Chapter 57
“That damned train ain’t comin’, Cruz,” sputtered Blade. “I’m beginnin’ to doubt there ever was a train full of gold.”
“Are you doubting my word, you ignorant pig? I ought to blow your damned head off,” shouted Cruz, his face red with anger. He spun around and stuck his gun in Blade’s face, cocking the hammer as he did. Sensing Virgil’s likely reaction to his comment, Blade did the same to Cruz. As they sat there, six-guns at each other’s forehead, each within a microsecond of blowing the other to kingdom come, Ben shouted.
“There! Look out there! The train is coming.”
The anger between the two of them quickly subsided as all eyes turned to the smoky trail being left by the approach of a powerful steam locomotive pulling two cars and a caboose as it snaked through the desert.
“I figured there’d be some passenger cars behind that engine, didn’t you, Virgil?” said Ben. “I don’t see but three.”
“It don’t make a damn bit of difference, does it? One of them cars must be the express car and that’s all we care about. That and what’s in it: a million dollars.”
“How we gonna take the train while them cowboys is takin’ potshots at us?” asked Blade.
“The train can’t make it through the pass because Ben has already blown the rail. We stick to the plan. Soon as the engine comes to a stop, or derails and turns over, Blade blows the doors off the express car. The rest of you keep pluggin’ away at those damned cowboys, that’ll keep ’em hunkered down. That bunch ain’t goin’ to keep me from my money,” growled Virgil.