by J. T. Edson
Not so Colin. Seeing one of the men had led up his bay to be saddled, he raced towards it. Going aside its bare back, he snatched the hackamore from the man’s hand. With a wild yell, the Scot started the horse running in pursuit of the girl he loved.
‘Want for us to go after them, Ma?’ Mark inquired.
‘Naw,’ she answered. ‘They’ll do all right without us. Best give them half an hour and if they’re not back by then start the corrida without them.’
‘Jeanie’ll be pot-boiling mad if we do,’ Dusty pointed out.
‘She wants for Colin to have his chance to make good.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Ma admitted. ‘It’s be best to wait for them.’
Time went by without Jeanie and Colin reappearing. None of the others were worried for they knew a spooked horse so recently caught would run a considerable distance before coming to a halt. Then it would need to cool out and rest up before making the return journey. Following the Texas tradition, Colin strapped on his gunbelt while dressing. So he carried the loaded Dragoon Colt and dirk as a means of defense. Dusty considered the Scot well able to handle the revolver should the need arise.
‘Lon’s coming!’ Mark snapped.
Watching the black dressed youngster gallop towards them, Dusty knew there was trouble in the air. Sweat lathered the stallion’s flanks and it showed signs of long, fast travel. Mark sprang forward to take the reins as the Kid dismounted and began to walk the horse until it cooled down.
‘Those damned Tejas!’ the Kid gasped as April ran forward carrying a mug of water. ‘They’ve met up with the Flores bunch and the whole boiling of ’em’re headed this way.’
Once again Dusty took charge. ‘Get the mares brought in, Felix!’ he barked. ‘Mark, take some men and have the sarprimas off the mustangs. Manuel, take the horses from the picket line into the corral. Then grab your rifles ready for a fight. Do you want me to send Lon and some of the boys after Jeanie and Colin, Ma?’
For a moment the woman hesitated, then she shook her head. ‘We’ll need every gun right here,’ she decided. ‘When they hear the shooting, they’ll guess what’s happened and stay clear until it’s safe to come in.’
Chapter Fourteen
Never had Colin ridden as he did while urging his mount after Jeanie’s speeding bay. Paying no attention to his surroundings, he concentrated on keeping the girl in sight. He knew that he could not hope to overhaul the dun, which carried a lighter load—even with its saddle—than the bay. Nor did the distance increase greatly, for the horse he rode was a running fool.
All in all Jeanie was enjoying the ride. Before they had gone far, she knew that the dun was not running blind. It avoided such obstacles as lumps of rock or clumps of mesquite, showing no inclination to try crashing into either. With cat-footed ease, it slid down slopes and rocketed up others as if its mother had been part big-horn sheep. Although it made for a sizeable bosque, she felt no anxiety. Knowing there was no way to hold it, she gave her full attention to evading branches. She felt something catch her right sleeve, but the material tore before she could be dragged out of the saddle.
Following the girl, Colin marveled at her riding skill. He could tell that the horse had the bit between its teeth and felt admiration at the way in which his Jeanie stayed with it. Ahead of the dun lay a stream and it sailed across like a whitetail deer bounding over a log. Setting his teeth, Colin guided the bay towards the water. Gathering itself, it leapt and lit down on the other shore to resume the pursuit through the trees.
Through the bosque they went, then across the rolling, open country. A small mestena broke out of a draw and ran ahead of the dun. At the sight of its own kind, the horse gave chase. For their part, the mustangs had seen the girl on the dun’s back and Colin coming up in the rear. So they fled at their best speed, hazed on and guided by their stallion.
Over four miles had fallen behind Jeanie and Colin since leaving the camp. At last the girl could feel her horse tiring. Yet it kept up its attempts to catch up with the mestena. Driven by the fear of their human pursuers, the mustangs swung into the mouth of a canyon. Naturally the dun followed and Colin brought up the rear.
Thundering along the floor of the canyon, the mustangs found it came to a blind end. On the right, the slope rose too steeply to be climbed and at the left the side rose almost vertically as did the end. So the horses whirled about and rushed back towards the entrance. Jeanie’s dun saw them coming and also tried to go around. Charging through its mares, the herd stallion smashed into the dun’s rump as it went by. Knocked staggering, the dun screamed and started to go down.
With the skill of years behind her, Jeanie quit the saddle of her falling mount. Lighting down on the run, she saw horses flashing by and dived behind a rock. Crouched in its shelter, she turned to see Colin sliding off the bare back of his rearing, spooked bay. On landing, the Scot threw himself clear of the bay’s churning legs. Much as he wanted to try to catch the horse, he saw there would be no chance. The mustangs thundered towards him and would run him down before he could do so. There was only once chance for Colin for he could see no rock large enough to offer him shelter. Diving, he flattened himself belly down on the ground and relied upon the wild horses’ aversion to trampling on strange objects to save him. The gamble paid off. Most of the mustangs swerved around him, but two hurdled his body without touching him and he rose unharmed as the mestena streamed out of the canyon accompanied by his bay.
Ignoring his lost horse, Colin rose and turned towards Jeanie. The girl ran forward and threw herself into his arms.
‘Are you all right, Jeanie lass?’ he asked gently after kissing her.
‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘I thought they’d tromp you flat—’
‘You saved me.’
‘How?’
‘By telling me how horses wouldn’t cross a furrow. I figured that they might not trample me if I lay still.’
They stood in the embrace for a moment, then a squeal of pain from the dun brought their attention its way. One look told them all they needed to know. Although the horse tried to rise, its near fore-leg would not support its weight.
‘Broken!’ Colin said, releasing the girl and making a closer examination of the dun’s injury.
‘Damn it to hell!’ Jeanie cursed bitterly. ‘Let me have your gun, Colin.’
‘I’ll do it,’ he told her. ‘Go wait by the end of the canyon.’ If any other man had made the suggestion, Jeanie would have felt indignant and refused. In Colin’s case, she raised no objections. Helping him to remove her saddle, she dragged it aside and then walked back towards the canyon’s mouth. Much as the Scot hated the thought, he knew what must be done. Drawing and cocking the Dragoon, he took aim at the center of the horse’s head. Jeanie did not turn as the revolver boomed. Walking slowly on, she heard Colin approaching. Placing his arm across her shoulders, he squeezed her gently. ‘It was a good hoss,’ Jeanie said.
‘We’ll catch more of them,’ Colin promised, then a disturbing thought struck him and he put it as lightly as he could. ‘If we can find our way back to the camp, that it.’
‘Why shouldn’t we?’ Jeanie asked in surprise.
‘I hadn’t time to watch where we were going,’ Colin confessed. ‘We could be anywhere for all I know.’
If she had heard Colin admit such a thing earlier in their acquaintance, Jeanie would have regarded it as a further example of his general incompetence. To a girl born and raised on the great open range country of Texas, finding one’s way from place to place came naturally. Like most children of the plains, Jeanie had developed an inborn ability to remember which direction she had travelled without conscious need to watch the route taken. Added to that, she knew the area around the Ronde River very well and so experienced none of the Scot’s concern.
‘I’ll show you where the camp is as soon as we’re out of here,’ she told him.
So they walked on, Colin with his right arm still around Jeanie’s shoulders and her saddle
in his left hand. He felt complete confidence in the girl’s ability to direct them to the camp. More than that, he expected that Ma and Dusty would have sent riders after them. If so, they would be saved the long walk back.
With that thought in mind, Colin started to look around him as they emerged from the canyon. As his head swung towards the right, he saw something which appeared to confirm his belief that a search party was on its way,
‘Look, Jeanie,’ he said, taking his arm from the girl and pointing. ‘We won’t have to walk far.’
Following the direction Colin indicated, Jeanie saw four riders emerge slowly from the distant bosque. They were too far away for her to even guess at their identity, but she felt worried by their presence. Then two flickers of reflected sunlight sparkled from them.
‘Get back into the canyon!’ she hissed.
Retreating hurriedly in response to the urgency in the girl’s voice, Colin lowered the saddle to the ground. He rejoined her at the mouth, noticing how she peered cautiously around the edge of the wall.
‘What’s wrong, lass?’ he whispered. ‘They’re some of your mesteneros—aren’t they?’
‘I don’t reckon so. Ma wouldn’t send four men out after us and I’m near on sure that flickering was from the heads of war-lances.’
‘Indians?’
‘Yeah!’
Looking out across the range, Colin studied the four men. Like Jeanie, he could tell nothing about them. He was willing to accept her judgment and gave his attention to the immediate future.
‘What are they after, lass?’
‘Us. That was about where we left the bosque. Likely they’re on our trail.’
‘That’s bad,’ Colin said, right hand brushing the grips of the Dragoon.
‘Real bad,’ Jeanie agreed. ‘If we go out, they’ll see us and if we stay put, they’ll have us boxed in.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Colin. ‘Even if we slipped out, they’d find our tracks and follow. They can move faster than we can on foot. There’s only four of them.’
‘Scouts ahead of the main bunch, likely,’ Jeanie pointed out. ‘We’ve only got five bullets in the gun.’
‘I’ve my dirk and sgian-dubh.’ Colin went on, pointing to the weapon on his belt and small knife in his stocking. .’But fighting isn’t the answer.’
‘There’s no place to hide,’ Jeanie warned.
‘Not down here,’ Colin agreed. ‘But there will be up on top.’
‘We could maybe go up that side,’ Jeanie said doubtfully, looking at the right-hand slope.
‘Aye. But we’re going up this side,’ Colin told her.
For a moment the girl stared at the wall, then she gulped and turned her eyes to Colin’s face. ‘This side?’
‘They’ll not expect it, lass. Come on, we’ve little enough time to do it.’
‘How about my saddle?’
‘We’ll have to leave it, but we’ll need your rope. Take it and fasten one end around you while I put your saddle so it’ll lead them astray.’
Taking the rope from her saddlehorn, Jeanie, knotted its end about her waist. Then she followed Colin as he carried the saddle to conceal it among some rocks at the foot of the slope. With that done, he crossed to the other side and walked along studying the wall. Back in Scotland, climbing had been his hobby since a boy. So he brought to bear all his knowledge on the business of selecting a spot up which Jeanie might climb with his assistance. At last he made his choice. A point sufficiently far down the canyon for them to be hidden from the approaching men and offering a variety of foot or hand holds.
‘Come up after me, Jeanie,’ he told her, knotting the rope’s other end around him. ‘Keep the rope hanging loose, but not dangling too much. And if you get into trouble, stop and tell me straight away.’
‘S–Sure,’ Jeanie gulped.
Scooping her into his arms, Colin planted a kiss on her lips. He could feel her body stiffen and knew that he could rely on her to do as he said. Turning, he began to climb up the wall. Jeanie stood below him, looking upwards and trying to remember the places where he rested his weight or which he used to haul himself higher. Then her gaze turned to the wall. From the ground, its eighty or so foot of height seemed far greater. Always something of a tomboy, Jeanie had climbed slopes and trees as a youngster; but she had never attempted such an ascent. Only her faith in Colin gave her the courage to make the try.
Slowly, feeling her way with groping fingers and toes, the girl pulled herself upward. At first the climb was comparatively easy. Then the strain began to tell on her wiry little body. Sweat soaked her, but she continued to drag herself higher. One foot slipped from its place, scrabbled and found another crack into which it dug. For a moment she hung there, gasping and shuddering. Only by exerting all her will power did she manage to raise the lower foot in search of the next support.
‘C–Colin!’ she gasped.
‘Keep coming, lassie,’ he answered in a calm, reassuring tone. ‘It’s not far to the top now. Don’t look down though.’
Gamely Jeanie struggled on. Above her, Colin sought out the easiest way and had to keep constantly remembering that the girl could not equal his reach or length of leg. Looking up, he saw the last feet would be difficult for any but the most experienced climber—and Jeanie was anything but that.
‘C–Colin!’ the girl croaked. ‘I–I can’t–g–’
‘Just a few more feet, Jeanie lass,’ the Scot answered. There’s a ledge you can rest on until I reach the top and can help you up.’
How Jeanie made the ledge, she would never know. Somehow she managed to pull herself on to it. No more than eighteen inches wide, the ledge petered out within a few feet. By standing flattened against the wall, arms spread-eagled on the cold stone, Jeanie could rest her aching limbs. She felt the rope moving and managed to raise her eyes. Above her, Colin’s kilt swung and his legs kicked for a moment. Then he disappeared from view and she felt a momentary panic.
‘C–Colin!’
‘I’m here, lass,’ he answered, appearing at the edge. ‘Very carefully get both hands on the rope. Slow and easy.’
Soothed and prompted by the calm voice, Jeanie followed the instructions. At first she thought that she would fall, but the rope gave her support. Looking down, Colin continued with his commands. Bracing her feet against the rock, Jeanie began to walk upwards as he pulled. Compared with the first part of the climb, the last twenty feet seemed child’s play. Then she realized that it must have been sheer hell for the unaided Scot to go up.
Drawing in on the rope hand over hand, Colin found time to dart a glance at the entrance to the canyon. So far the men had not come into view. Up rose Jeanie and at last she gripped first one then both Colin’s wrists. With a final tug, he swung her over the edge and on to welcome level ground.
‘Colin!’ Jeanie whispered and fell into his arms.
‘You’re safe now, lassie,’ he replied. ‘It’s ove—Get down!’
And saying the last words, Colin sank to the ground. He drew Jeanie down at his side, then peered cautiously over the edge. Backing off, he motioned the girl to follow him. They crept along the edge until they found a place from which they could see into the canyon without the danger of being seen. Looking towards the mouth of the canyon, Jeanie decided that they had not completed the climb any too soon. The riders came into sight and one of their number slipped off his horse to make a closer examination of the ground.
‘I was right,’ Jeanie breathed. ‘Injuns and a Mex.’
‘Jeanie!’ Colin hissed at the squat-built Mexican. That’s the man whose horse I shot in Fort Sawyer—’
‘The one the Kid reckoned was Matteo Flores?’ the girl gasped. ‘Him and his brother must’ve tied in with the Tejas. Here they come into the canyon. We’ll soon know if we’ve fooled them.’
‘There’s plenty of cover up here,’ Colin commented, looking at the bush and rock-dotted land behind them. ‘Let’s see what they make of our disappearance first, then decide what
to do next.’
Unknown to the Kid, three Tejas bucks had been ahead of the main body as scouts. When they had seen Jeanie’s and Colin’s departure from the camp, they took the news back to their companions. From their descriptions, the Flores brothers identified Colin. However the brothers ran into objections when they prepared to follow the Scot. On contacting the Tejas to form an alliance against Ma’s party, Matteo’s main point of persuasion had been that his gang carried Spencer rifles to counter the repeaters of the Texans. So, not unnaturally, the Tejas refused to let the brothers go off on a private hunt. The best the Indians would allow was for Matteo to take the three scouts, while Tiburcio and the other bandidos backed up the attack on the mustangers’ camp.
Taking the trail out of sight of the camp, Matteo and his men followed it. They did not hurry, wanting to come upon Colin and Jeanie where the sound of shooting would not reach the camp. On approaching the canyon, they found their task made difficult by the coming and going of the mustangs.
‘There’s a horse!’ the only Tejas with a firearm announced, pointing to Jeanie’s dun.
‘I can’t see the man and girl,’ Matteo growled, scanning the bottom of the canyon. ‘Maybe they came out riding double.’
‘None of the tracks show it if they did,’ objected the taller of the lance-carrying braves. ‘They’re hiding in the canyon.’
Leaving their horses ground-hitched, the men advanced cautiously. While they studied every inch of the canyon’s floor, none of them thought to look upwards. At the rocks where Jeanie had left her saddle, one of the lance-toting Tejas leapt forward excitedly and hauled it into view.
‘They were here!’ he yelled.
‘We know that!’ Matteo snorted. ‘Only they’re not in here now. Which way did they go?’
‘We’d have seen them if they’d come out and crossed the open range,’ Eats Anything, the man with the rifle announced. ‘They must have climbed this slope.’
‘Let’s get after them!’ whooped the second buck, dropping the saddle and moving towards the slope.