Savage Country

by William W. Johnstone

  With the exception of Rebel, who was still pinned down under Conrad and seemingly stunned. Conrad emptied the Lightning at the attackers, and while Frank couldn’t tell if the shots hit anything or not, they certainly made some of the Apaches jump for cover.

  Three of the Indians ran between the legs of the water tank. Frank angled the barrel of his Peacemaker up and squeezed off a shot. The slug struck the cable that held up the tank’s spout and severed it neatly. The long spout dropped, slamming into the three Apaches and knocking them off their feet. Water from the tank inundated them.

  “Make for the horses!” Frank shouted as he threw another round toward the Apaches. He leaped off the platform, whistling for Stormy.

  The Appaloosa lunged forward. Frank grabbed the saddle horn and swung up in a lithe motion. He holstered the Colt and jerked the Winchester from its sheath. As Conrad leaped up from the platform and hauled Rebel with him, Frank laid down covering fire for them.

  Meanwhile, Dog had one of the Apaches down and was savaging him. Three more of the warriors were wounded, although Frank didn’t know how badly they were hurt. That left only four of them, and they had to hug the dirt as Frank peppered the area around them with rifle slugs. Conrad and Rebel made it to the edge of the platform. Conrad didn’t let go of the girl as he jumped to the ground.

  Rebel had gotten her wits back enough to grab the reins of her chestnut. She swung up into the saddle while Conrad climbed onto El Diablo. Frank wheeled Stormy around and snatched Rebel’s reins out of her hands. Leading the packhorse as well, he kicked the Appaloosa into a gallop. With Frank tugging on the reins, Rebel’s chestnut had no choice but to break into a run as well.

  Conrad brought up the rear on El Diablo. As he galloped after Frank and Rebel, he took the Winchester Frank had bought at Holtzmann’s from its sheath and twisted around in the hull to fling several shots at the Apaches. It would have been pure luck for an inexperienced shot like Conrad to actually hit anything from the hurricane deck of a racing horse, but at least the boy was trying, Frank thought as he glanced back.

  They rode west along the railroad tracks, on the south side of the right-of-way. The tracks were raised a little on a shallow embankment. That didn’t give the three riders much cover, but anything was better than nothing. All three horses were strong and not worn out by a full day’s ride, so within seconds they had pulled away from the water stop.

  The Mimbres River loomed in front of them, spanned by a short trestle. Frank, Conrad, and Rebel didn’t try to cross on the bridge. That would have just slowed them down and given the Apaches a chance to catch up. Instead, they put their horses down the sloping bank of the streambed and splashed across the shallow river. The horses lunged up the other bank and kept running.

  Conrad was still shooting. Frank called to him, “Hold your fire! You’re wasting lead!” The Apaches were a couple of hundred yards behind them now, and the warriors weren’t going to be able to catch up on foot, at least not anytime soon. Nor would the Indian ponies, if there were any hidden nearby, be able to match the speed of Stormy, El Diablo, and Rebel’s chestnut, even with the packhorse slowing them down a little.

  Rebel looked confused and angry and a little scared, but there was nothing she could do as long as Frank hung onto her horse’s reins. She bent forward over her mount’s neck and rode expertly. Evidently, her story about being able to ride and shoot as well as her brothers hadn’t been a lie, although most of the rest of her story had been.

  Frank wasn’t sure why he had brought her along. He didn’t want to leave her to the Apaches, of course. They might not have killed her, but life as a white female captive would have been pure hell for Rebel. Also, he thought that having her with him and Conrad might give them some leverage against the rest of the Callahans, although Frank knew that he wouldn’t stoop to actually using her as a hostage. It was more a matter of thinking that they might be able to convince her to abandon her quest for vengeance—the same way her brothers and her cousin had abandoned her to the Apaches.

  Frank hadn’t seen any sign of Ed, Tom, and Bob since they fled from the station. Most likely, they had reached their horses and taken off for the tall and uncut. They would need to put some distance between themselves and those Apaches before they could stop and tend to the arrow in Tom’s shoulder. He was in for a lot of pain. Frank knew that from experience, having been skewered by an Indian arrow a time or two himself.

  “Where are we going?” Rebel shouted at him.

  “Away from those Apaches!” he told her.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  That was a damned good question. Unfortunately, Frank didn’t have the answer. He supposed it would depend on whether or not after this fight with the Apaches Rebel still wanted to see him and Conrad dead....

  Chapter 9

  They didn’t slow down until they had put several miles between them and the station at Mimbres Tank. Then Frank pulled back on Stormy’s reins and slowed the big Appaloosa to a walk. Conrad and Rebel slowed down beside him.

  Conrad looked around and asked, “Where’s Dog? Did the Apaches get him?”

  “Not likely,” Frank said. “I imagine he took off from there when we did. We just outdistanced him. But he’ll find us, don’t you worry about that.”

  Rebel hadn’t said anything since asking what they planned to do with her. She looked straight ahead, a frown on her face. Finally, she said, “They went off and just left me there.”

  Frank nodded. “Yep, they sure did. I reckon they were more interested in saving their own skins, not to mention their hair.”

  “But they left me! I’m not surprised that Ed would do such a thing. We’ve never been that close. But Tom and Bob are my brothers!”

  “Tom already had an arrow in him,” Frank pointed out, wondering even as he did so why he was bothering to defend the Callahan brothers. “He was hurt and scared. I’m sure Bob was scared. And Conrad sort of had you pinned down where they couldn’t get to you easily. Otherwise, they probably would have grabbed you and taken you with them.”

  Rebel didn’t say anything. She just kept looking stonily ahead of her.

  “Where were their horses?” Frank asked after a moment.

  “I don’t know for sure. They were going to hide them somewhere close to the station, somewhere you wouldn’t see them when you rode up.”

  “I reckon they circled around our camp and rode all night to get to Mimbres Tank first?”

  Rebel nodded. “That was the plan. It almost worked too. It would have if those damned Apaches hadn’t shown up!”

  “Frank,” Conrad said, “do you think those were the same Indians we saw yesterday?”

  “More than likely.”

  “So they did go back and get the rest of their war party, just like I said they were going to.”

  “Chances are that wasn’t the whole bunch.”

  Rebel asked, “Will they come after us?”

  Frank turned to look behind them. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they were back there somewhere right now,” he said. “But it’s possible too that they might have decided they’ve already paid a big enough price without getting what they wanted. They might go back up into the foothills and wait for somebody else to come along.”

  Conrad said, “They have to be part of the same group that’s threatening the spur line.”

  “What spur line?” Rebel asked.

  “I hardly think that’s any of your business,” Conrad said coldly. “After all, it’s only been a short time since you and your brothers and cousin were trying to kill us.”

  “That didn’t stop you from jumping on top of me when the arrows started flying,” Rebel pointed out. She laughed. “You pounced on me like I was a saloon girl and you were a cowboy who hadn’t seen a woman in a month of Sundays.”

  “I’m sure you’d know all about such scandalous behavior,” Conrad shot back in a stiff voice.

  Frank glanced over and saw Rebel blink and flinch a little as if
she had been struck. Clearly, Conrad’s words had stung her. Frank wasn’t sure why Rebel would care what Conrad said, or what he thought of her, for that matter. They were enemies, after all.

  But they were also close to the same age, young and vital and full of life’s juices. Hostilities were sometimes forgotten, or at least ignored, in the face of such things.

  Frank kept an eye on their back trail as they rode. A short time later, he saw something moving through the scrubby brush, and wasn’t surprised when Dog came into view, loping steadily after them. He reined in and motioned for Conrad to do likewise. Dog came trotting up to them, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He seemed a little winded, so Frank said, “We’ll rest for a few minutes.”

  They swung down from their saddles and stretched. The horses cropped a little grass while Frank petted Dog and told him what a good job he had done of catching up to them. Conrad and Rebel stood off to one side. Conrad’s eyes were narrowed, and he kept a close watch on Rebel.

  “You don’t have to stare at me like that,” she said after a few moments. “I’m not armed. I’m not going to shoot you.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.” Conrad took his Colt Lightning out of its holster, where he had jammed it after emptying it at the Apaches back at Mimbres Tank. He began to reload it. “I suppose you lied about being a good shot,” he said, “the same way you lied about everything else.”

  “Give me that gun and you’ll find out what kind of shot I am.”

  “Oh, ho! I think not.”

  She glared at him. “Where the hell are you from? You don’t talk like you come from around these parts.”

  “The past few years I’ve been in Boston. Cambridge actually, attending Harvard.”

  “That’s some sort of fancy school, ain’t it?”

  “Harvard is the finest university in the country, as well as one of the oldest.”

  “Well, then, how’d you come to be out here in New Mexico Territory?” Rebel wanted to know. “Shouldn’t you be back there at Harvard with your head stuck in a book . . . or up your—”

  “I have business interests in this territory,” Conrad said hastily, interrupting her. “I’ve graduated from the university, and I’m now very involved in running the family enterprises.”

  “Then how’d you get mixed up with a gun-thrower like Morgan?”

  Frank smiled to himself as he heard the question, wondering how Conrad was going to answer it. Would the boy claim him as his daddy?

  “Frank and I have known each other for several years,” Conrad said. “He, ah, owns a small percentage of the business interests that I control.”

  So they were just business associates, Frank thought wryly. Conrad didn’t want to admit, even to this wild West Texas girl, that he was related to the famous—or infamous—Drifter.

  It came as a slight surprise to Frank that he experienced a faint pang of disappointment at this realization.

  “So where are the two of you headed?” Rebel asked.

  “We’re on our way to—” Conrad stopped abruptly. “Wait just a minute. Why should I tell you where we’re going? If you were to get away from us and join forces again with your brothers and your cousin, you could tell them where to find us.”

  “They’re going to find you anyway,” Rebel said. “Ed will get on your trail again, and he won’t give it up until there’s another showdown. He’s bound and determined to even the score for Simon and Jud.”

  “Then he’s a damned fool,” Frank said. “He’ll just wind up getting himself killed, along with your brothers.”

  Rebel gave that toss of her head. “You must not know what it’s like to be part of a family, Mr. High-and-Mighty Gunfighter! If you did, you’d know there are some things you just don’t give up on, not when it has to do with your family.”

  Frank didn’t say anything, but he looked at Conrad. Conrad didn’t seem to want to meet his gaze, however. The young man looked away and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  The rest was a short one. If the Apaches were coming after them, Frank didn’t want to give those indefatigable warriors time to close the gap too much. As they mounted up again, Frank said, “You take Miss Callahan’s reins this time, Conrad.”

  “I won’t try to get away,” Rebel said. “Where would I go? There may be Apaches on our trail, and I don’t know where Tom and Bob and Ed are. I’d be a fool to run off now.”

  “Yes, you would,” Frank agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do it if the notion struck you.”

  “How about if I gave you my word?”

  “Reckon we’ve got a heap of reasons to believe that,” Frank said dryly.

  “No, I mean it,” Rebel said, flushing angrily. “I swear, I won’t try to run off or pull any other tricks.”

  “How about giving up this grudge you’ve got against me? You going to do that too?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t, not unless Ed does. It was his brothers who got killed, so it’s up to him how to pay that debt.”

  “But what you’re saying is that we ought to call a truce.”

  “For now, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mr. Morgan. In fact, if you were smart, you’d give me a gun. I can help you fight off those Indians if they attack us again.”

  “When and if that time comes, I’ll think about it,” Frank said. “Until then, I reckon it would be all right for Conrad to give you your reins back—but no gun.”

  Conrad handed the reins over to Rebel, and the three of them got their horses moving. Frank set the pace, keeping them moving steadily westward at a good clip without pushing their mounts too hard.

  “This is the old Butterfield stage route,” Frank said after a while, to break the silence as much as anything. “Back in the days before the Union Pacific and the Central Pacific joined up, the only way you could travel from one side of the country to the other was by stagecoach, and this was the major route.”

  “Did you ever ride the stagecoach?” Conrad asked.

  “Many times,” Frank replied with a nod. “In those days it was even more dangerous, because Geronimo and his bucks were still out raising hell. I remember hearing about how they jumped one stage to Lordsburg and chased it for a long way. Might have caught it too, and massacred everybody on it, if one of the passengers hadn’t been a good shot with a rifle and held them off until a cavalry patrol came along and made the Apaches turn tail and run. Back then, it was unusual to go clear across southern New Mexico and Arizona Territories without running into a fight somewhere.”

  “Thank goodness the area is more civilized now,” Conrad said. “Someday, people will be able to travel anywhere they want to without having to worry about being attacked.”

  That was a nice dream, Frank mused, but that was all it was—a dream. Someday, the Apaches would be either wiped out or tamed, that much was inevitable, but there would be other threats. Human nature would see to that.

  They rode on through the afternoon, gnawing on jerky and cold biscuits to ease their hunger pangs, washing down the food with swigs from their canteens, stopping only occasionally to let the horses rest. During one such stop, Frank climbed one of the telegraph poles that were strung out alongside the railroad tracks. He peered to the east, south, and north, and saw no signs of anyone trailing them. Maybe the Apaches had given up. He wasn’t going to count on that, however, because he knew what stealthy varmints they could be. But he was fairly confident that the Callahans weren’t back there, at least not anywhere close. He would have been able to see three men on horseback.

  That evening Frank led them well south of the railroad to a clump of boulders where they made camp. The spot would be fairly easy to defend in case of trouble, because the rocks provided a considerable amount of cover. If they had to fort up here, any attackers would have a hard time rooting them out.

  As night fell, while Conrad tended to the horses, Frank faced Rebel and asked, “Do we need to tie you up for the night?”

  “I told you I’m not going
to try to get away. I gave you my word. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  Frank shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to take your word. If you run off, it’ll just put you in more danger and won’t have any effect on us.”

  She looked down at the ground and muttered, “I won’t run off.”

  Frank nodded. “How about fixing something to eat then?”

  “All right.” Rebel’s mood seemed to brighten a little. “I can do that.”

  Using bits of dry brush, she built a small fire that was so well shielded by the rocks that it wouldn’t be visible more than a few yards away. It didn’t give off much smoke either. Frank looked on in approval. Rebel knew what she was doing.

  Frank got a pan, bacon, and flour from the supplies lashed to the packhorse and brought them to Rebel. She got the bacon frying and when it was done, used grease, flour, and water to cook some pan bread. Frank put coffee on to brew.

  Finished with the horses, Conrad wandered over and asked, “Is it safe to have a fire? We don’t want those Indians to find us.”

  “If the Apaches are looking for us, they’ll find us whether we have a fire or not. And if it’s anybody else—” Frank didn’t mention Rebel’s brothers and cousin, but they all knew that was who he was talking about. “They probably won’t be able to see this fire, as small as it is.”

  Conrad hunkered on his heels. “I must admit, that food smells wonderful. It’ll be nice to have a hot meal.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Frank agreed. “It’s been a long, hard day, and we need something to keep our strength up.”

  “You still haven’t told me where you’re going,” Rebel said.

  “And you know why,” Conrad told her.

  She turned the pan bread. “Yes, but I’ve given my word that I’ll go along with you. Don’t I have a right to know where?”