by Tony Masero
“Alright!” he cried. “I’ll tell you.”
“You dog!” growled James. “You tricked me, I will see you dead for that.”
“You will do nothing just yet,” warned Lloyd. “I think you have done enough already, be quiet and contain yourself, Van Olen. Now, Endeavor, tell us all we need to know.”
“There was a man came to see me in my office,” he began in a defeated voice. “I did not….”
Ahab ran back into the room, “The prisoner, he’s escaped. He’s killed the guard and got away.”
Lloyd looked at him coldly. “Then find him, you fool. Don’t run in here crying like a girl, go and get him.” He swung back to Zack as Ahab left. “Continue, Endeavor, my patience is getting thin.”
“I’m getting out, this is all going wrong,” complained Wenders, making to go after Ahab. “We are discovered.”
There was a general consensus and many of the others moved to follow him.
“Wait!” cried Lloyd. “Let us not be hasty. We need to know who our enemy is before we panic.”
“It is true you are all lost,” said Zack, taking advantage of the situation. “It was a government man who came to see me, a Secret Service agent. They know all about you. All of you and your plans to disrupt the upcoming elections.”
“Oh, God!” cried Crowthorne. “We are truly undone.”
“Don’t be a fool,” said Lloyd. “What can they do to us? We hold them all in the palm of our hand. One word from us and we bring their economy crashing down, we have but to breathe and this country returns to the Stone Age. It is in our power to hand it all back to the savage Indians if we so wished.”
“Well, I’m not staying,” said Wenders. “There’s not much power at the end of a hangman’s rope.”
With that, he ran from the room and one by one a trail of the others followed him.
“The cowards,” growled Lloyd. “James, you have an alternative exit route to that wretched ferry I trust? Another way out?”
“Of course I do,” James said coldly. “I have another boat hidden and a safe bolt hole in Mexico ready and waiting. That is why I built this place here so close to the border. There is no love lost between Mexico and America but money is a great way to make friends and I have many in my pay over there.”
“Good,” said Lloyd. “At least you show some little sense after all.”
“But we need not run,” James went on. “This place is impregnable and I have an army of men out there.”
“But it is a prison also,” said Lloyd in an exasperated tone. “No one may get in but neither may we leave.”
“I think we should go whilst we can,” said Crowthorne, who had stayed behind and not left with the others.
“Hey!” called a voice and they all turned to see Long looming in the doorway, rifle in hand.
Both of the Solo twins spun around, they crouched and drew their pistols and Long fired immediately, cranking the handle of the Winchester as he blasted a rain of fire across the room.
Zack took the opportunity of the distraction and launched a swinging punch at Lloyd, catching the professor a blow on the chin that sent his pince-nez flying. He tottered back and Zack turned his attention to Crowthorne, who bent low and covered his head with his hands.
“Don’t hit me,” he whimpered. “Don’t!”
Zack twisted back to try and find James but he was nowhere to be seen and instead he looked across to see Long still firing from the doorway. Ben Solo was answering his fire, fanning the hammer and letting sheets of gun-blast shatter the darkness in flashes of pale light. His brother Travis was flopping forward, still stumbling drunkenly on his feet as blood spouted from a gaping wound in his neck.
The adobe wall beside Long was pitted with bullet holes and dust flew from the bullets that still peppered the wall. Both men maintained their fire until both had emptied their guns. With all the wild shooting, unbelievably neither had struck the other and as Ben bent to reload his pistol Long leaped across the room and swung the Winchester wide like a bat.
The rifle butt landed a solid blow to the side of Ben’s head and he flew sideways, to fall against his brother who dropped to the floor clutching at his throat and making ghastly gurgling sounds.
Ben staggered a few paces, recovered and began to stand but Long swung again and there was an ominous crack as the rifle butt connected with Ben’s skull. The gunman fell forward and lay still. Long strode across the room and picked up Ben’s empty gun and began to reload from the fallen man’s ammunition belt.
“What are you going to do with us?” asked Lloyd, replacing the glasses shakily on his nose. “You know we can make you richer than king’s in this country. We can give you position and comfort for the rest of your lives. All you have to do is let us go free.”
“You go to hell,” said Long without looking up from his reloading.
“I think that’s where they’re going anyway,” agreed Zack. He looked around, twisting this way and that. “Mary!” he called. “Mary, where are you?”
There was only silence in answer. Desperately, Zack searched through the smoke and shadows but there was no sight of Mary.
“Van Olen must have lit out with her,” growled Long.
“I have to get her back,” cried Zack making for the door.
“Here, take this,” said Long, tossing Travis Solo’s Colt across the room and Zack deftly caught the pistol as he ran out.
“Now, boys,” Long said with a slow smile. From where he knelt on the floor he pointed his revolver at the two men. “We’ll just set here a spell ‘til my partner arrives back.”
As Zack ran outside he could see men running everywhere, the seven remaining members of The Ten were adding to the confusion by shouting wild orders as they scurried down to the dock. The sounds of shooting had stirred the guards along the wall and they were bent low as they searched the far shore for an expected attack.
The group of The Ten stood panic stricken on the dock and tried to force their way into the ferryboat tied there. A rifle shot sounded from the buildings on the far side of the lake and a spout of water flew up from the water around the bow of the vessel. The men on the dock backed away fearfully and Zack guessed that Chad and Lemon had taken over the buildings on the opposite bank and were keeping everybody trapped on the island.
Thanks to his earlier tour, Zack had some idea of the layout of the ranch and he ran through the narrow passageways until he came to the high point that overlooked the stretch of water where he had stood with James earlier. He scoured the horizon. It was still dark but the moonlight lit up everything bravely and he saw the escaping rowboat easily. They were almost to the shore on the far side of the island.
He could see Mary sitting up in the rear of the boat and looking back towards the ranch, behind her two men were rowing furiously. It was James and Ahab Solo. Zack raised his pistol but knew it was an impossible shot and lowered it again; he could not risk hitting Mary.
He had to get off the island and after them but there was an army of defenders to get through before that was possible. Angrily he made his way back towards the main house. He was careless now and desperate. As he made his way he fired the pistol at any dark shadow that looked aggressive and crossed his path in the moonlight.
Vaqueros, some of them mistaking him for one of their own, fell as Zack fired indiscriminately at the passing shadows. It was the war again. A different foe but the feeling was the same. Battle on and survive whatever the cost.
He strode through the dark alleys like a dark avenger, uncaring for his own safety and in such a way he shot five men indiscriminately, shooting them down in cold blood with only bitterness at Mary’s abduction in his heart. When the pistol was empty he picked up another from one of his victims.
He burst back into the dining room to find Long sagging painfully in a chair with a gun still held unwaveringly on Lloyd and Crowthorne.
“They get away?” Long asked.
“How do we get off this blasted island?” growled Zack. “Yo
ur boys have the dock covered and they’re not about to let anyone use the boat.”
“No, I told them to keep everybody on the island,” Long confessed.
The sound of shooting came to them from the walls outside as the defenders shot at the supposed enemy in the buildings on the far shore.
“We need a diversion,” said Long. “Something to distract those vaqueros from the dock whilst we get down there.”
“What about Brad and Lemon?”
“They’ll recognize us. Lemon’s eyes are sharper than an eagle’s.”
“And these two?”
“Find me some rope.”
As Zack ferreted around in the kitchen area for something to tie up the prisoners with he called out to Long in the other room.
“They must have an armory here somewhere.”
“I guess,” came Long’s reply.
“A fire in there ought to be enough of a distraction.”
“That’ll do it. Good thinking if we can find it.”
“Ah!” cried Zack, coming across a coil of strong cooking twine used for binding meat.
They bound the two men to a set of table chairs and with a pat on the head of the professor, Long crooked his finger at Zack and they left to find the armory.
“Easiest way,” said Long, as they stood in the shadow of the front door. “Is to get a hold of one of these fellows.” He wagged his pistol in the direction of walls where they could see vaqueros firing wildly into the night.
They made their way down to the shadowed plaza and waited in a recessed doorway until a man hurried past. Long stepped out in front of him and stuck the pistol barrel neatly between the man’s eyes.
“Habla usted Ingles, compadre?” Long asked him in atrocious Spanish.
“Si, senor,” the man said through trembling lips, his eyes crossing as they fixed on the dark opening of the gun barrel. “I speak it.”
“Where do they keep the rifles and ammunition here?”
“Over there,” the man pointed vaguely.
“Lead the way,” said Long, prodding him with the pistol.
The vaquero led them across the plaza and past Long’s prison cell, on the far side he waved at another cellar set down below ground level.
“It is down there, senor.”
“Let’s go,” said Long and they followed the vaquero down to the wooden door.
Inside the man found them a lamp and lit it without being asked and as he held it up they could see racks of Winchesters set above stored barrels of coal oil and boxes of ammunition stacked high in the center of the cellar.
“Look at the markings, this is army issue,” said Long. “They must have stolen the whole pile of it from a military depot.”
“I reckon The Ten have enough connections to get whatever they want,” Zack said, searching through the boxes. “Here,” he said, raising a small pinewood crate. “Dynamite, see if you can turn up a fuse.”
“Senor?” asked the trembling Mexican. “May I go now, please?”
“Get out there and tell your friends it’s all over,” warned Long. “They want to make a fight of it they’re welcome but they’ll be wasting their time. Your boss has fled and there’s only his deadbeat companions left here now.”
The Mexican ran out without another word and they could hear him shouting to his companions outside trying to make his voice heard over the sounds of rifle fire.
“Set it up,” said Zack. “You’re probably better at this than me.”
He left Long to it as he went to the doorway and peered out. “Hurry it up, Long. Every minute counts as James is getting further away.”
“You’ve really got it bad for that girl, ain’t you?” Long replied, as he looped sticks of dynamite together.
Zack drew a deep breath. “I reckon I have,” he admitted.
“We’ve got about ten minutes,” said Long, lighting the fuse from the lamp. “When this place goes up its like the Fourth of July.”
“Let’s go.”
At the dock they found five of The Ten huddled in a terrified group as the bullets winged over their heads. Two had tried to swim for it and drowned in the attempt, they were not the fittest nor the youngest of men and it was a fair distance to the opposite shore.
Zack jumped into the boat and the men rushed forward as Long eased his aching body in more slowly.
“Take us with you,” It was Wenders pushing to the front of the group. “You must take us, we will die here.”
“What do you want to do?” Long asked Zack, his hand ready to push the boat off from the dock.
“Leave them,” said Zack, as he put out the oars. “There’s not one of them worth a nickel’s worth of saving.”
“You can’t,” begged Wenders and the others with him began to moan in pitiful complaint.
“Sure is different when you’re at the sharp end, isn’t it?” replied Zack. “Push us away, Long.”
Wenders leapt from the dock as they pulled away, his heavy body landing awkwardly in the belly of the rowboat and nearly upsetting it.
Coldly, Zack got to his feet, spread his legs and straddled the boat. As Wenders climbed to his feet, his face wore a mournful mix of success and despair. Zack swung the oar in his hand and the flat blade hit Wenders on the shoulder and overbalanced him and he fell over the side, hitting the water with a tremendous splash.
Without a word, Zack reseated himself and placed the oars in the rowlocks and began pulling further away from the dock. He could see Wenders’ bobbing head watching him go.
“Help me!” Wenders cried after them piteously but Zack ignored him and rowed on, he felt no pity for any of the individuals that founded the terrible destruction and loss of life created by the Civil War and believed a taste of the devastation that was to follow was their just desserts.
They were half way across when the dynamite ignited.
It began with a rumble and a glow behind the walls. A softly expanding light that grew in volume until it burst high in the air with a rip of sound that tore the night apart. A ripple of explosions followed the first, cascading high up and running in a blazing blast through the alleyways and outhouses. The walls protected the boat from the worst of the blast but soon a wave of water followed them and threw the boat stern-up almost capsizing it. Exploding ammunition crackled and cast streams of bright lights and red-hot lead into the air as a booming crash of sound sped outwards in waves from the devastation.
“Lord Almighty!” cried Long. “They must have had more than one box of dynamite in there.”
“They sure did,” agreed Zack smugly. “I counted five.”
Chunks of masonry were dropping into the water around them with great splashes as the demolished debris from the detonation fell to earth. Fire followed the explosion and the two could see that the ranch house and its outbuildings were ablaze. Tiny black-silhouetted figures danced and ran amongst the flames and a great firestorm began to climb as the rising heat swept in more air from the surrounding barren land and fed the flames.
“No one’s going to get out of that alive,” said Long grimly.
“There’s three that already did,” Zack answered, heaving on the oars and pulling close to the shore.
“Look here,” said Long and Zack turned to see both Chad and Lemon waiting for them with rifles cocked casually on their hips.
“Thought it was you two a-coming,” Chad called. “What happened over there? Looks like it’s all gone to hell and blazes.”
“Aw, nothing much,” joked Long. “Just a little accident with a lamp.”
Chapter Ten
“You fellows don’t have to come along you know?”
Zack looked down at the three as they prepared to mount up alongside him. “Your part is done surely? The Ten are destroyed and my quarrel with James Van Olen is a personal one.”
Oily smoke still billowed from the ruined ranch house across the lake behind him. It rose black and ugly against the rising sun and cast a long shadow over the shoreline.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Long, as he eased himself into the saddle. “We were hired to watch your back and that’s what we aim to do. Ain’t that right, fellas?”
Chad and Lemon both nodded agreement.
“That’s the nub of it,” agreed Chad. “We’re in for the long haul.”
“Well, I appreciate it sure enough. But don’t you have to report back to Smith or anything.”
“Aw, we can telegraph him when we hit on a post along the way,” said Chad.
“And how about you, Long? You took a severe beating back there; maybe you should be resting up. We don’t know where James has gone, I know he mentioned a hideout in Mexico but we don’t know where it is or how far away.”
“Hell, boy!” Long said irritably. “You’re beginning to sound like my mother. I’m sure old enough to make my own mind up about what I do, don’t you think?”
“Okay, okay, don’t get scratchy. I was just asking.”
Long turned to Lemon who was staring off into the distance past the hanging clouds of smoke. “Can you track them?” he asked the half-breed.
Lemon looked at him with one eyebrow raised as if to say ‘What do you think?’ before he kicked in his heels and rode off around the shoreline.
“He never speaks,” observed Zack with a frown. “It’s very unsettling.”
“He’ll speak,” Chad chuckled. “When he’s got something to say.”
Long was impatient, “Let’s ride,” he said and started off following Lemon’s trail.
They rode through the stink of the smoke still loaded with cinders and the taint of cordite and came across the half-breed kneeling on the shoreline at the back of the island beside a beached row boat.
“This way,” he said, pointing along a clear line of footprints leading away from the vessel.
“They won’t get far on foot,” observed Zack. “Might be we’ll catch up with them right quick.”
“I sure hope so,” said Long, rubbing his jaw. “I’ve a score to settle with that long-haired rat Ahab Solo.”
“The woman didn’t want to go,” advised Lemon. “They drag her, see here,” he indicated gouges in the soft earth. “Then they go up there over that rise.”