Bad Men Go to Hell
Page 18
‘I am the ordained,’ he shouted, fingers fumbling for fresh cartridges. ‘One of The Elect, you cannot….’
Led by Nitis screaming for them to kill the white man the Indians poured over the tail end of the carriage. Mortimer vanished under a tumble of swarming bodies that hacked and slashed in a maddened rush as they overcame the preacher.
Leaving Mortimer’s body behind and wildly berserk over the death of their chief, the crowd of braves surged on, running purposefully towards the last survivors left in the warehouse.
Chapter Nineteen
When Tarfay made it safely inside the warehouse he stared in shocked surprise at the occupants.
‘You!’ he spat.
‘Damn right, lawman,’ said Scart, keeping Tarfay covered with his pistol.
‘Well blow my hide,’ muttered Cornpone, coming in behind the Ranger. ‘If this don’t beat all.’
Tarfay looked across at Tag and Eloise, ‘You two all right?’ he asked.
Tag nodded, ‘We’re okay.’
Tarfay quartered the inside of the warehouse, taking in the two wounded brothers and the stern figure of Jed Crome watching him cautiously.
‘This all there are of you?’ he asked.
‘That’s it,’ answered Scart glibly. ‘You going to take us in now?’
‘We’ll get to that,’ said Tarfay grimly. ‘But right now we got a parcel of Indians to deal with. You got any ammo?’
‘We’re near out in here,’ Tag answered. ‘How about you?’
Tarfay twisted to show the almost empty loops on his gun belt, ‘Not much left,’ he said.
‘Listen, we’ve got a plan,’ said Tag hastily. ‘You see those cans out there in front. That’s all kerosene, we reckon a few well placed shots when the Indians get close enough and we should blow a whole heap of them away.’
Tarfay squinted at the scattered array of silver cans lying scattered before the warehouse doorway, and then he turned back to Scart. ‘Looks like we’ve got a truce going here for the moment,’ he said.
‘Until this is over, I guess,’ leered Scart in reply.
‘That’s about it,’ Tarfay agreed.
‘And then it’s back to business, huh?’
‘I’m the law, Scart. That’s how it has to be.’
‘Goddamn it, Tarfay. You are something else, you really are,’ chuckled Scart.
‘They’re coming!’ called Tag from the doorway and they all heard the wild cries of the raging Apache as they neared.
They dashed to the doorway and took up positions filling the opening, ‘Wait for it!’ yelled Tarfay. ‘Let them step across that kerosene before you fire.’
As the wave of Indians approached, the defenders waited with nervous apprehension, fingers twitching on triggers. The crazed Apaches were running at full tilt, maddened and impervious to the threat with their mouths open wide as they howled out insane sounding war cries.
With a roar of gunfire the defenders inside the warehouse opened up.
The front line of brave disappeared under an exploding sheet of flame, the blast shot up in a great ball of yellow fire. Secondary explosions followed and soon the entire section of ground before the warehouse was hidden under a huge stretching wall of blasting detonations that spread liquid flames in every direction. Within the veil of roiling fire blackened figures twisted and coiled, some bursting through the blazing curtain and running forward covered in streamers of flame and screaming piteously before they were shot down.
The heat was intense and Tarfay and the others squinted in the pressure wave that came towards them and seemed to singe the very air about them. Remorselessly they held their ground, picking of survivors of the inferno as they appeared. The roaring flames rose up enveloping all around the semi-circle of destroyed containers spreading their liquid fire upwards as soaring arcs in every direction.
Slowly, the boiling blaze settled, the flames whisking off into a densely oil packed black cloud that pillared up into the sky. The stink of burning kerosene was strong and mixed with the smell of roasted flesh it was a sickening and nauseating stench.
His face reddened by the heat, Tarfay looked out over the steaming stretch of soil before him. The ground was still scattered with isolated and flickering pools of burning material. Nothing else moved out there and amongst the small fires only the twisted and charred bodies of the Apaches lay scattered in a forest of clawing hands and distorted limbs.
‘By God!’ breathed Scart. ‘That sure worked but now it’s my turn.’
At the sound of the menace in his voice, Tarfay swung around pointing and firing without a second thought. The hammer clicked on an empty casing and Tarfay tried again only to find his Colt was empty. His fingers felt at his gun belt but every loop was empty and almost lazily Scart watched him with amusement.
‘Looks like you’re done, Ranger,’ he said, checking his own pistol and grinning with satisfaction. ‘I held off and still got some. Best you drop your weapons and raise your hands, the whole bunch of you.’ He looked over at Crome, ‘How about you, Jed? Still got any fire power.’
Crome shook his head, ‘No, I’m finished.’
‘Well, then, I’m the man it seems.’
He hustled Tarfay, Cornpone, Tag and Eloise to one side holding them at bay with his loaded gun, ‘Check the brothers, Jed,’ he said. ‘They been awful quiet lately, I reckon maybe they won’t be taking a share of our little windfall any more.’
Crome crossed over and checked on the two Mack brothers and looked over shaking his head, ‘They gone,’ he said. ‘Sure sorry about that, they was good old boys.’
‘That’s it then,’ smiled Scart. ‘Just to finish up here and we’ll be on our way. Any last words, Ranger?’
‘Let the kids go,’ said Tarfay. ‘They been through plenty already.’
Scart shrugged, ‘Then they had enough for a lifetime, wouldn’t you say? Unless the little missy has changed her mind. You want to come along of us, girl? We got money to burn right now, you’ll have a ball, I promise.’
Eloise glared at him, ‘You vermin, you disgust me,’ she spat. ‘Even with all this death, still you want more killing.’
Scart raised his eyebrows at Crome, ‘No gratitude, you hear that, Jed? I give her a chance and what does she do? She spits in my face. Hell, I don’t know what the younger generation’s coming to.’
‘Come on, Scart,’ said Crome. ‘Get it over with and lets get out of here.’
Scart looked at them all speculatively, his eyes narrowing and his lip curling.
‘Well, which one shall we do first?’
‘Enjoy the moment,’ growled Tarfay.
‘Oh, I intend to. I think it’s going to be you, mister Ranger. You hounded me across half the damned country and made my life a misery. I think its going to be you.’
He advanced rapidly across the intervening space, the pistol held high and pointed directly at Tarfay’s face.
‘Any last words?’ Scart asked.
‘See you in hell,’ rasped Tarfay, his eyes locking on the outlaw’s.
‘That’s for sure,’ chuckled Scart as he ratcheted back the hammer and leveled the pistol on Tarfay’s forehead.
‘Lower that pistol right now, mister!’
The loud command came from outside the warehouse and was uttered in a firm voice.
Scart looked around to see Ronny standing there with a Henry rifle to his shoulder pointed right at him.
‘Who the hell….’ Scart began but Tarfay leapt forward and knocked the outlaw’s gun hand aside before delivering a hard-bunched fist to Scart’s jaw. Scart’s head jolted back and he rocked on his heels but Tarfay was not finished. He waded in with another punch that landed deep in Scart’s stomach, the gunman oofed air and doubled over leaving himself open to an uppercut that rocketed up from Tarfay’s waist and sent Scart flying.
Nimbly, Tag jumped forward and collected the fallen pistol before Crome could move in and collect it for himself.
‘What’s going o
n here?’ asked Ronny, coming into the warehouse still holding his rifle ready.
‘You just helped the law do its duty, young fella,’ grinned a relieved Cornpone. ‘Saved a Ranger’s life and helped capture a pair of wanted criminals. Let alone aiding in the recovery of a whole heap of government gold, I reckon somebody’s going to be mighty grateful to you.’
‘You think so?’ asked a bemused Ronny.
Chapter Twenty
It was a single rider who rode out of the dusk some twelve months later and approached the collection of four large ex-army tents set up in the hollow.
It was one of those mellow evenings of late summer, when skidding ribbons of purple cloud streaked slowly across the glowing embers of the orange sunset that still rode on the horizon. The air was soft and warm and sweet with a honey scent from the night flowers and wild herbs growing amongst the desert brush and in the cleft of the hills the glow of a cook fire and light of oil lanterns cast a welcoming swathe over the lone rider.
Tag was up on the roof frame nailing in the last of the new timbers before the light went whilst Tarfay hauled up the remaining crossbeams on a pinwheel pulley. Below, in the yard cooking up supper, a recovered Mama Bass was bossing around Eloise as if she had never been away and still thought the girl was no more than a child. Beyond the growing structure Cornpone had his work cut out hustling six restless mustangs into the new built corral.
‘Well, lookee here,’ Tarfay called down. ‘It’s our young hero, Ronny Tate. Come on in, fella, you’re just in time for supper. We have enough for a visitor, don’t we, ladies?’
‘We surely do,’ chirped up Eloise, with a cautious glance of interest at the young man.
‘Evening everybody,’ said Ronny, climbing down from his pony.
Tarfay and Tag slid down their ladder and came over to shake hands.
‘Good to see you,’ said Tarfay.
Ronny looked around with appreciation, ‘You people appear to be doing real well on that house. Reckon you’ll be done before winter.’
‘We’ve certainly had enough of tent life,’ said Eloise, her eyes shining brightly as she came over and shyly handed Ronny a cup of fresh coffee.
‘Going to be a fine place,’ praised Ronny, looking more at Eloise than at the construction work.
Cornpone strode down from closing up the corral and called out to Ronny, ‘What do we owe the pleasure? You given up the life of a pump man on the railroad?’
‘I have,’ agreed Ronny. ‘Reckon its time for a new career.’
‘What you got in mind?’ asked Tarfay.
‘That’s why I come,’ said Ronny, at last dragging his eyes away from Eloise. ‘I wanted to speak to you, Mister Tarfay. I got a hankering to join the Rangers, what do you think on that, I wonder?’
Tarfay scratched at his mustache a minute and studied the young man, ‘Well, it ain’t no easy life and that’s a fact. Cornpone will bear me out on that, won’t you, partner?’
Cornpone smiled wryly, ‘Well, we did fair to middling on it.’
‘Funny you should bring that up right now, Ronny,’ piped up Tag. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing. I reckon I’d like a spell as a Ranger as well.’
‘Well, what do you say?’ laughed Ronny, pleased to have such a welcoming committee. ‘We could go join up together, Tag.’
Tarfay shook his head at Tag, ‘Damn it! I don’t know, we pull this rascal out of one heap of trouble and he’s already intent on finding another.’
‘Would that mean you’d be stationed at Rio Charro?’ asked Eloise, unable to disguise the hopeful note in her voice.
‘I guess,’ agreed Ronny.
‘Then we’d be neighbors.’
‘Reckon so, I could come see you folks regular, if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Well, I know one party that wouldn’t,’ teased Cornpone, with a sly sidelong glance at Eloise.
‘Sure,’ said Tag. ‘We could travel together when we’re off duty, it’d be fine, wouldn’t it, Tarfay?’
Tarfay shrugged in mock surprise, ‘What you asking me for, seems like its already been decided.’
‘Aw, hell, Tarfay. We could still come help out with things here, in fact if Ronny comes along of me you’ll have an extra pair of hands.’
‘Sure boys, I’m just kidding you. Be glad to see you doing whatever you want to do; you’ll always be welcome here you know that. Ain’t that right, Cornpone? Even Mama Bass will be happy.’ He looked across at the dour face of Mama Bass who was stirring a pot over the fire. She looked at them for a moment and then nodded acceptance. ‘See, Mama Bass says its okay, then its okay with me.’
Mama Bass rattled her stirring spoon irritably against the edge of the pot, ‘You all want to eat this fine supper or you just want to talk?’
When they were seated around the long hand-built table set up in the yard, Tarfay placed lanterns at either end so they could all see to eat and then Mama Bass dished up.
Tarfay looked around the table and was pleased to see all the young faces, bright and eager as they chatted noisily together in the lantern glow and he turned to notice Cornpone watching him. His fellow Ranger slowly nodded in unspoken agreement as he recognized Tarfay’s pleasure at the company.
‘So how are things at Senola now?’ asked Tarfay.
Ronny twisted a lip, ‘Aw, its slow. Certainly taking a time to recover, so many folks was killed by the Indians. The railroad is making an effort though and the rebuilding is coming along slowly, I don’t reckon it’ll ever be more than a depot now though, the trade has mostly gone.’
‘Not much future there then?’
‘Reckon not,’ Ronny agreed. ‘What about you fellows?’
‘Oh, we quit the Rangers permanent now. They wasn’t too fond of us after disobeying orders and setting off on our own and then getting three convicts to come along with us, so it was better we went our separate ways.’
‘And Scart Benjamin?’
‘Him and Crome are awaiting trial up at the penitentiary. That part we did get some praise for.’
‘And all the army gold?’
Tarfay snuffled a laugh, ‘Yes, they was real pleased to have all that back, not that we got any thanks for it, did we, Cornpone?’
‘Nary a word,’ Cornpone agreed.
‘So do you think Benjamin and Crome will hang or get a jail sentence?’
‘I guess Tag will have the last word on that, he foretold their end a long while back, ain’t that right, Tag?’
Tag looked at them all around the table and a twinkle came into his eye, ‘It’s a sure thing, there’s only one place their kind are bound,’ he said. ‘Bad men all go to Hell.’
IF YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK SEE THESE OTHER TITLES BY
TONY MASERO
WESTERN NOVELS
HARD RAIN MUST FALL * BAD DON’T MEAN WRONG * GRINGO WADE * IN THE DEVIL’S GRIP * SLASHED STAR * WAR RIDER * THE KILLING DESERT * JAKE RAINS * THE RIFLEMEN * THE PURSUED * DIRTY SHIRT BLUES * DEEP WATER RISING * DEATH RIDES ON THE HEELS OF TROUBLE * THE RAID * THE WIDOWMAKER * THE VENGEANCE OF ENDER SMITH * DAMN FOOLS GOLD * BLOOD LEGACY * JOHNNY DOLLAR * MISTER D’EATH AND THE JUDGE * DEADLY MANHUNT * FULLBLOOD BOYD OVERMOUNTAIN MAN * BLOOD MOON TRAIL * CROSS BORDER KILLERS * PEACE AT WAR * TULANE * MOSE GOES WEST * GO LIGHTLY RIDER * THE HEART OF DARK PASSAGE * HARD EDGED * BLOOD RIDDEN * BIG WIN * THE DEAD CUT * TWENTY DOLLAR DEAD MAN * GONE ROGUE * GILDED RAGE * WINTERTIME * THE RESCUERS * DIEHARD * THE THIRTY SIX HUNDREDS * BORDERLINE GRINGO * NAZARETH * BLOOD ON THE THORN * THE DEADLANDS * STONEHEART * BAD MEN GO TO HELL
WESTERN SERIES
MISTY BLUE
No.1 Misty Blue The Last Mountain Man
No.2 Loaded for Bear
No.3 A Dog called Kill
No.4 Wild in the Woods
No.5 Down and Dirty
No.6 End of the Road
BELLE SLAUGHTER
No.1 Over Your Dead Body
No.2 Lamb to Slaughter
No.3 Five Belles to Hell
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No.4 Cut to the Quick
TEARS OF APACHE STONE
No.1 Season of the Killing Moon
No.2 Time of Apache Tears
No.3 Hunt for a Stone Killer
COFFIN JACK
Part 1: Deathdealer
Part 2: Gravedigger
THRILLERS
DEAD FALL BACK
THE GARDENER A John Chayne novel
BLACK EYE
THE BITTER STONES OF INTENTION
FEED THE CROW
I WENT DOWN TO THE VALLEY
BABYCHAIN BLUES
CENTROBLIS
(Writing as MICHAEL D’ASTI)
A WEB FOR ALL GOD’S ANGELS
THE KHANDA KILLINGS
IN THE FRAME
Drama
THE DECEPTIVE EYE
MOMENTS OF RECURRENCE