Conrad didn’t say anything about him and Frank actually being related, not just traveling companions or business associates, and Frank didn’t mention it either. Instead, he said, “It’s a mite unusual to find a young woman wearing pants and gallivanting around the countryside like you’re doing, Miss Callahan.”
She gave a defiant toss of her head that made her blond hair swirl a little. Frank suspected the gesture was a habit of hers.
“I’ve always been a tomboy, I guess you could say. I can ride and shoot as well as either of my brothers. I had to learn, because we all worked hard running a ranch down in the Davis Mountains. That is, until . . . until we lost it.”
“Outfit went under, did it?”
“Rustlers drove us into bankruptcy,” Rebel explained. “We couldn’t keep the place going. It was a blow losing it. Our father started it when he came out to West Texas after the war.”
“I reckon he must have fought for the Confederate side.”
“Of course he did, but how did you know . . . Oh. Because of my name.”
Frank shrugged. “Seemed like a reasonable guess.”
“And you’re right. My father was from Georgia, and he was a staunch Confederate. My brothers were named after Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee. When I came along, my father couldn’t think of any famous Confederate women, so he just called me Rebel.”
“Guess he never heard of Belle Boyd. She was a spy for the South.” Frank steered the conversation back to a more important subject. “What about those cousins of yours? Did they work the ranch with you?”
“No, not at all. Simon and Jud and Ed were older. Ed even fought in the war. But they’ve always been drifters. Grub-line riders, I guess you’d call them, if they ever did any actual work. I’ve thought for a long time they were probably outlaws and hired gunmen.”
Conrad started to say something, probably about hired gunmen, but Frank silenced him with a look.
“Tom and Bob heard that they were in El Paso,” Rebel went on, “so we came out to see if we could join up with them for a while, since we didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought I might be able to get a job working in a store or something like that. But then you killed Jud, and Simon didn’t tell us about it because he wanted to settle the score with you himself, and then you killed him too, and when Ed and my brothers heard about it . . .” She paused and shook her head. “They went crazy mad, Mr. Morgan. They won’t stop until they’ve killed you.”
“Or until I’ve killed them.”
“You wouldn’t! They’re all the family I have left.”
Conrad said, “Frank, we’ve got to do something about this. Miss Callahan can’t be left alone in the world. You’ve got to make it right somehow with her brothers and her cousin.”
“How would you suggest doing that, Conrad?” Frank asked quietly. “Some debts have to be paid in blood.”
“Hogwash! Anything can be negotiated. There’s always a way to reach an equitable settlement—”
“Money, you mean?” Frank cut in.
“Well, yes.”
Frank laughed humorlessly. “You’ve spent too much time back East. Folks there always think that the best way to solve a problem is to throw money at it, but in most cases that doesn’t accomplish a thing except to make the problem worse.”
“All right, what solution do you propose?”
“To keep those Callahan boys from killing us, whatever it takes. If we can do it without killing them, so much the better.”
Rebel said, “But if you can’t?”
“No offense, ma’am,” Frank told her, “but I’m not going to let your family gun me down out of revenge and not try to do something about it.”
“I . . . I understand.” Rebel took a deep breath. “And I know you’re right. That’s why I broke away from them and came to warn you, because I think they’re doing the wrong thing. From what I heard, Simon and Jud tried to kill you first. You were just defending yourself.”
Frank nodded. “That’s the way it happened, all right.”
“Maybe if you explained that to Ed and Tom and Bob . . .”
“You really think that would work?”
“Well . . . no,” Rebel said. “I doubt that it would.” She looked up. “But maybe I could talk to them. Maybe they would listen to me.”
“I got the feeling you already tried to talk to them, and it didn’t do any good.”
“That’s true. But it might be different now. I’ve actually spoken to you now, and I know you acted in self-defense.”
Frank didn’t think that would make a damned bit of difference to the Callahan boys. He supposed he could understand why Rebel wanted to try, though. Though she didn’t seem to care that much about her remaining cousin, her brothers were the only close family she had left, and she didn’t want to lose them. If they continued their vendetta, there was a good chance they would wind up dead.
“There’s a water stop up ahead where the railroad crosses the Mimbres River,” Rebel went on. “You could leave me there, and when the boys catch up, I’ll talk to them. I’ll do my best to convince them to abandon the whole idea of vengeance and go back to El Paso. If it doesn’t work . . . well, you haven’t lost anything by letting me try.”
Conrad said, “You shouldn’t go back to them, Miss Callahan. It sounds as if they treat you terribly. From the sound of it, they seem to regard you as . . . as one of the boys, rather than as the lovely young woman you are.”
Frank couldn’t tell because of the firelight, but he thought Rebel blushed. Conrad was the one who ought to be blushing, the way he was so blatantly trying to flatter her.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything for you to try to talk sense to them,” Frank said after mulling it over for a moment. “I’ve heard of that water stop. Called Mimbres Tank, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Rebel said. “You can reach it by noon tomorrow.”
“How far back of us are the others?”
“They camped back the other side of the pass. They’re at least an hour behind you.”
“Aren’t they liable to come right on after you when they discover that you’re gone?”
Rebel smiled. “They’re all sound sleepers, and I left my bedroll made up to look like I was in it in case one of them wakes up. They probably won’t know I’m gone until morning.”
“You must have ridden hard after you slipped away, to catch up to us like you did.”
“I knew it was important, so I didn’t mind pushing my horse—or myself.”
Conrad said suddenly, “What were we thinking? Would you like something to eat or drink, Miss Callahan? We have some beans and salt pork, and we can put on a pot of coffee if you want some.”
“Thank you, Mr. Browning, but I’m fine. I ate with the boys before we all turned in.”
“You’re sure? It wouldn’t be any bother—”
“The lady said she wasn’t hungry, Conrad,” Frank drawled.
“Well, I’m just trying to be a good host. This may be the frontier, but there’s no excuse for poor manners.”
Frank tried not to smile. The next time he ran into a kill-crazy gun-thrower who wanted to ventilate him or a bloodthirsty Apache who wanted to lift his hair, he’d be sure to tell them that their actions didn’t conform to the accepted notions of proper etiquette.
Right after he shot them, that is.
* * *
Frank wasn’t willing to gamble that Rebel was right about her brothers and cousin not discovering her absence until the next morning. He and Conrad took turns standing guard during the night, and Rebel’s presence had the hoped-for effect on Conrad: He stayed awake and alert during his stint on watch.
Rebel seemed to sleep well. Frank and Conrad each gave up a blanket, and she was able to improvise a bedroll from them. The next morning Frank kindled the fire back to life and cooked a hot breakfast. The food and coffee, as well as the cool morning air, put a definite glow in Rebel’s cheeks and made her more lovely than ever.
She was beautiful, there was no question about that. The light of day confirmed the fact, as well as revealing that her eyes were a deep, rich brown. Conrad’s eyes seldom left her as they got ready to break camp.
While Rebel had gone off a short distance into the brush to tend to her private needs, Frank said quietly to Conrad, “You’re acting a mite like you’ve never seen a pretty girl before.”
He flushed in a combination of anger and embarrassment. “That’s not true. I’ve had many lady friends, including some back in Boston who would put this . . . this frontier hoyden to shame.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
“That I’ve had lady friends?”
“That any of them could put Miss Rebel to shame. She’s as pretty a girl as I’ve seen in a long time.”
“You don’t seem to mind admitting that,” Conrad pointed out.
“I’m just stating a fact,” Frank said. “You’re the one mooning over her.”
“Hardly! I’m just trying to be polite—”
Conrad stopped short as they heard Rebel returning. He went to saddle her horse, having taken it upon himself to care for the chestnut gelding she had ridden up to their camp the night before.
Frank scanned their back trail once he had swung up into Stormy’s saddle. He didn’t see any signs of pursuit, but that didn’t mean the Callahan boys weren’t back there. “Let’s go,” he said as he heeled the big Appaloosa into a ground-eating trot. Dog ran ahead, eagerly sniffing the ground and looking for something interesting.
They followed the railroad tracks during the morning, moving closer to the right-of-way than Frank and Conrad had been traveling previously. Although there were plenty of mountains visible jutting up in the distance, the area alongside the tracks was flat and the railroad ran in a straight line for the most part, with only an occasional long, gentle curve. Because of that, they were able to see the elevated water tank beside the tracks for several miles before they reached it.
As they drew closer, Frank saw that the water stop consisted of the tank itself on the north side of the tracks, a siding next to it where cattle cars could be sidetracked and loaded or unloaded, and a small building and platform on the other side of the tracks. This wasn’t a manned station, but while trains were stopped to take on water from the tank, passengers could get out and stretch their legs on the platform if they were of a mind to. Likewise, folks from the ranches hereabouts who wanted to board the train could wait in the building or on the platform, depending on the weather.
No train was stopped there now, of course, although there might be a westbound later in the day. Frank, Conrad, and Rebel rode up to the station, letting their horses pick their way across the tracks to the south side of the line. They dismounted and went up the steps onto the platform, stopping in the shade of the awning that overhung it.
Conrad looked around and said, “This has to be the most godforsaken place I’ve ever seen. Are you sure you want us to leave you here, Miss Callahan?”
“I’ll be fine—” Rebel began.
The hair on Dog’s neck lifted, and he began to growl. That was enough warning for Frank. He whipped around toward the building, his hand going to the butt of his Colt.
He was too late. The door of the building was already open, and three men stood there with leveled guns in their hands. One of them laughed harshly and said, “Don’t worry, boy. You won’t be leavin’ Rebel here. Fact is, you won’t be leavin’ at all.”
Chapter 8
Frank was fast with a gun, faster perhaps than anyone in the history of the West except for Ben Thompson, Smoke Jensen, and John Wesley Hardin. But not even he could outdraw guns that were already drawn. He froze with his hand on the butt of his Colt as he looked down the barrels of the revolvers pointed at him and Conrad and Rebel.
The man who had spoken was the oldest of the trio. He had a rugged, weathered face and a shock of white hair under a pushed-back black Stetson. The other two had a distinct family resemblance, despite the fact that one was tall and lanky with black hair and the other was built short and stocky and had sandy hair. Frank knew he was looking at Ed Callahan and Rebel’s brothers Tom and Bob.
Conrad said, “See here, you can’t just—”
“They’ve got the drop on us,” Frank cut in. “I reckon they can do just about anything they damned well please.”
“You’re right about that, Morgan,” Ed Callahan said. “And it’s gonna please us a whole heap to put some bullets in you and this dandified friend o’ yours.” Ed motioned slightly with the barrel of his gun. “Take your hand away from that Colt, gunfighter. You’re makin’ me nervous.”
“Why should I worry about that?” Frank asked coolly. “You’re going to kill us anyway, nervous or not, aren’t you?”
“Damn right. I wouldn’t mind seein’ you squirm a little bit first, though.”
Frank laughed. “That’s not going to happen.”
Ed regarded him intently for a moment and then said, “No, I reckon it’s not. Might as well get this over with.”
Frank’s eyes flicked for an instant to Conrad. The young man was pale with fear, but his face was composed. He wasn’t going to panic and start crying or pleading for his life. Instead, Conrad said, “At least have the decency not to make Miss Rebel witness this atrocity.”
She stepped behind him and plucked the Colt Lightning from its holster on Conrad’s hip. Pointing the gun at him, she moved quickly to the side and said, “They’re not making me do anything. It was my idea to fool you and lead you right into this trap.”
Conrad stared at her, obviously unable to believe what he was hearing. “Rebel!” he exclaimed. “You . . . you can’t mean that!”
“You make an enemy of one Callahan, you make enemies of ’em all,” she said.
Frank was surprised, but not completely. He had never fully trusted Rebel and had thought she might try to pull some sort of trick. He had been hoping that he was wrong about her, though.
Clearly, he wasn’t wrong. She was after revenge just like her cousin and her brothers. If it came down to brass tacks, he would have to remember that. But it was going to be difficult for him to pull the trigger on a woman, no matter what he knew about her.
“Listen,” he said, “you boys haven’t thought this through.”
“The hell we haven’t,” Ed said. “We’re gonna kill you, and that’s all we got to think about.”
Frank smiled faintly. “You don’t think I’m going to go down right away, do you? Even with lead in me, I’ll stay on my feet long enough to get my gun out and get off a shot or two. I’ll kill at least one of you before I die.”
Ed sneered. “That’s big talk.”
“Then there’s my dog,” Frank went on. “In case you haven’t noticed from the way he’s looking at you and raising his lip, he hates all three of you and can’t wait to get his teeth in you. Again, you can shoot him, but he’ll live long enough to tear out somebody’s throat.”
The shorter of the two brothers said worriedly, “Ed, I don’t like dogs. Never have cottoned to them.”
“Shut up, Bob,” Ed snapped. “Morgan’s just tryin’ to run a bluff. He thinks he’s gonna scare us so bad we’ll tuck our tails between our legs and slink off like some sort o’ coyotes.”
Frank shook his head. “No bluff, Ed. Just telling you the way it is. If I can manage to whistle just right before I cash in my chips—and I’m betting I can—that big Palouse of mine will charge right up here on this platform and go to kicking. So between me and my horse and my dog, you’ll all die. All three of you. No doubt about it in my mind.”
Both of Rebel’s brothers looked nervous enough to jump out of their skin. They had been roped into this affair by their cousin, and now they weren’t so sure about it.
Rebel wasn’t so easily spooked. She said, “Don’t listen to him, boys. Let’s do what we came here to do.”
“I’ve told you what’s going to happen,” Frank said quietly. “If you want to pull
those triggers and start the ball . . . well, you’ve got it to do.”
Tom Callahan, the taller of the two brothers, turned and took a step toward his cousin, saying, “Ed, I don’t—”
Something hummed through the air on the platform. Tom cried out in pain as an arrow thudded into his shoulder and knocked him back. He stared down in shock and horror at the shaft protruding from his flesh.
Frank pivoted as more arrows sang around him. He palmed out the Colt and snapped a shot at the figures that had appeared seemingly by magic on the other side of the railroad tracks. He had told Conrad that it didn’t take much cover to hide an Apache warrior, and this attack was proof of that. The Apaches had gotten to within fifty feet of the station before emerging from the scrubby brush to launch their assault on the whites.
The Callahans’ vendetta against Frank was forgotten now. In self-preservation, they opened fire on the Apaches. There were about eight of the warriors, but only a couple of them were armed with rifles. The others had bows and arrows.
Frank dropped to a knee and fired again. One of the Apaches who had a rifle spun around, blood spurting from his arm where Frank’s bullet had holed it. To Frank’s left, Conrad tackled Rebel Callahan, knocking her to the platform as a couple of arrows passed closely above her. The impact jarred the Lightning loose from her grip. Conrad yelled, “Stay down!” and practically crawled on top of her, shielding her with his body as he snatched up the double-action Colt and began firing at the Apaches. It looked like he had forgotten that a few minutes earlier Rebel had been ready to gun down him and Frank both.
The rest of the Callahans fell back toward the station building, firing as they went. So far, Tom was the only one who had been wounded. Bob yelled, “Let’s get out of here!” and neither of the others argued with him. They slammed through the front door of the station, ran across the single small room, and burst out the back.
Frank didn’t know where they were going and didn’t care. He supposed they had hidden their horses somewhere nearby, probably in an arroyo. If they made it to their mounts before the Apaches caught up to them, they would have a chance to get away. And since the Apaches were being kept busy at the moment by him and Conrad, Frank realized wryly that they were helping their sworn enemies to escape.
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