by J. T. Edson
‘Wooden Head is well named!’ Eats Anything scoffed. ‘If they are up there, they could kill us all as we climb.’
‘I can’t see any tracks,’ Tommy Dog, the last Indian, commented. ‘Maybe they went up the other side.’
‘Look at that wall!’ Matteo growled. ‘They couldn’t go up there. Either they went out of the entrance, or up this slope. Come on. We’ll cut for sign out in front of the entrance. If we don’t find any, we’ll get on top and see if they’re up there.’
Enough of the conversation had reached Jeanie’s ears for her to tell Colin something of the quartet’s comments and plans. Then they watched Matteo lead the Tejas from the canyon and begin a careful scrutiny of the ground.
‘I wish ’em luck, all bad,’ Jeanie grinned as the men moved out of sight beyond the other side. ‘We slickered ’em good, Colin boy.’
‘My kinsman did much the same to the Hanoverians at the Pass of Ballater,’ Colin replied. ‘Only the Black Colonel took his horse with him.’
‘Not up a wall like we climbed, even if he is your kin,’ Jeanie objected.
‘Maybe not,’ the Scot smiled, then became sober again. ‘I’m thinking it’d not be safe to start walking back just yet.’
‘Let’s find some place comfy to hide up in,’ Jeanie suggested. ‘The more we know about what they’re figuring, the safer it’ll be.’
Finding a hollow a short way from the edge, Colin and Jeanie took cover in it. For a time nothing happened, then they saw the four men riding towards the top at the other side of the canyon. Once more Matteo and the Tejas began their search for signs, covering the ground with a disconcerting, painstaking thoroughness.
‘I’d say they’re certain we didn’t leave the canyon by the entrance,’ Colin whispered.
‘Yeah,’ Jeanie hissed back. ‘And when they don’t find our sign up there, they’re sure going to start thinking about this side. If they come round, they’ll easy cut our trail and then we’ve got a fight on our hands.’
At first Jeanie and Colin thought that they would be in luck. Although the searchers were clearly puzzled by the lack of tracks, they seemed disinclined to accept the obvious answer. A heated debate took place, but enough of the words failed to reach Jeanie to prevent her knowing what was said. From what she could tell by the gestures and actions of the quartet, opinions were sharply divided on how the couple had escaped. Matteo appeared to favor making another examination of the land in front of the canyon, being at least partially supported by the two lance-carrying Tejas. However the man with the rifle objected and kept pointing to the other side. Finally he turned his horse and started to ride purposefully towards the blind end of the canyon. First the other Tejas, then Matteo followed. Catching up to the two men, the Mexican seemed to be continuing his arguments. While they talked, their companion drew steadily ahead of them.
‘That does it,’ Jeanie breathed. ‘If we show ourselves, we’ll be seen and they’ll ride us down. Keep hid until they get into shooting range. Let ’em ride by if you can, then come up shooting.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Colin agreed, knowing the situation did not call for fair play or sporting tactics. It would be kill or be killed, with Jeanie’s life at stake as well as his own. ‘Keep down and leave the fighting to me.’
‘You’d best get those pipes unhitched,’ Jeanie suggested as he drew and cocked the Dragoon. ‘They might slip and tangle your arms.’
Deciding that the girl gave good advice, and aware of the need for complete freedom of movement, Colin began to slide the bagpipes’ strap from over his shoulder. Although he moved with care, he allowed the pipes to show briefly above the rim of the hollow. For a moment the ribbons fluttered in the air and then were withdrawn without him realizing his mistake. He learned about it soon enough.
Coming around the edge of the canyon in the lead of his companions, Eats Anything scanned the country about him with extra care. There had been doubts cast about the possibility of their victims being on the left side, despite the lack of tracks elsewhere. Eager to prove his reputation as a reader of sign, he wanted to locate the missing couple and prove that he had missed nothing down below. A slight movement jerked his attention to a hollow some fifty yards ahead. Something stirred in it, a flickering wave of colors unnatural to the surroundings. Whipping up his long-barreled Mississippi rifle, Eats Anything took aim and fired.
Chapter Fifteen
When the bullet passed close above his head and kicked up dirt at the rear of the hollow, Colin knew their position had been discovered. Gripping the Dragoon in both hands, he wriggled up the side until he could rest his elbows on the level ground. That gave him a solid base from which to take aim and he proceeded to make the most of it.
Screeching out a triumphant war-yell. Eats Anything sent his horse bounding forward. He died before the animal had taken four strides. Carefully Colin sighted the Dragoon, knowing he had but five shots and wanting to make them all count. Pressing the trigger, he sent a bullet into the Indian’s chest. Even as Eats Anything fell from the horse, Colin saw the other Indians coming to the attack.
Wooden Head dropped the point of his lance and sent his horse into a charging gallop. Despite carrying one, Tommy Dog did not share the Comanche and other horse-Indians’ reverence for the lance. He regarded it as an inadequate kind of weapon when matched against a firearm. So he did not follow his companion’s example. Instead he dropped his lance and reached over to snatch Matteo’s Dragoon from its holster. Before the Mexican could prevent the theft, Dog headed in the direction of the hollow and started to shoot as if the revolver held sixty rather than six bullets in its cylinder.
Flame spurted from the Dragoon in Colin’s hands and Wooden Head’s horse began to fall. With an Indian’s skill, the Tejas quit the dying animal’s back and lit down on his feet. Still holding the lance, he watched Dog thunder by and began to run towards the hollow.
Firing his third shot, Colin saw Dog flinch but knew he had made a near miss. Nor did the fourth have better effect. Nearer tore Dog, the borrowed Dragoon spitting in his hand. Unfamiliar with the revolver and firing from the back of his horse, the man still came close to achieving his desires. Sliced by a bullet, the upper part of the feather in Colin’s bonnet fell away. He heard the ‘splat’ as lead hummed by his left ear. Still he held his fire, intending to make a hit with the last load in the Dragoon.
Becoming aware of the danger, Dog fetched his horse to a sliding, turning halt. As the horse stopped, he tried to line the revolver down at the Scot. Only Colin was already laying his sights and shot first. Once more smoke swirled and the heavy old gun bucked to the recoil. A hole appeared between Dog’s eyes and he pitched back over the far side of his horse. In falling, his lifeless hand tightened on the gun’s butt and sent the last bullet it held plowing into the ground.
Immediately after the shooting, Colin hurled himself out of the hollow with the intention of catching Dog’s horse. However the animal went plunging away and Colin saw Wooden Head rushing in his direction. The sight of the lowered lance warned Colin that he held an empty gun and had need to defend himself. All the fighting spirit of his Highland blood raced wildly at the thought. Back over the centuries, the Farquharsons had been warriors second to none. The instincts of generations guided him in how he must act, backed by an even more primeval urge of the male to protect its mate. No longer was Colin the polite, well-bred young sportsman, but a wild Highlander of the kind which gave Britain some of its finest, bravest soldiers.
‘Cam na cuimhne!’ Colin roared, bursting into full view of the charging Indian.
Around swung Colin’s left arm, hurling the empty revolver at his attacker’s face. Ducking to avoid the flying missile, Wooden Head staggered slightly. He was given no time to recover his balance. After leaving the Colt’s butt, Colin’s right hand flashed across to slip the dirk from its sheath. Following up in the path of the gun, he slapped the lance aside with his left hand.
‘Cam na cuimhne!’
&nb
sp; Again the slogan of the Clan Farquharson rang through the Texas air. The eleven-inch long, tapering, double-edged blade rose in an upwards jab under the deflected war lance. Wooden Head croaked in agony as the needle-like spear point of the dirk spiked into his lower body. Instinct guided Colin’s actions without the need for conscious thought. After half the blade had sunk into the Tejas’ belly, the Scot tore it sideways to rip through the flesh until it came free.
Stepping aside, Colin let the stricken man blunder by him. The lance fell from Wooden Head’s hands as he clutched at the hideous tear that laid open his stomach. Jeanie screamed as she saw the Indian lurch into view on the lip of the hollow. Then his legs buckled under him and he crashed downwards. Staring with horror-filled eyes, the girl jumped away from the gory body and began to back up the other slope.
Thundering hooves warned Colin that the danger was not yet over. In fact, he knew that he faced the most dangerous enemy of all. Not having seen the theft of Matteo’s revolver, he expected to feel lead crash into him at any moment.
In addition to the loss of the revolver, Matteo no longer had a rifle. The Tejas had insisted that he left his Spencer with Cijar to add fire-power during the attack. Not that the bandido felt unduly concerned when he saw that the Scot held a revolver. Now that was empty and discarded. While the man in the skirt showed some skill in the use of a knife, Matteo carried an even more deadly edged weapon on his belt.
Snatching out the machete, Matteo guided his horse at Colin. Just as it seemed that Colin would be ridden down, he flung himself to the left before the horse and let it go by. Nor could Matteo bring the machete around in passing. Deftly the bandido reined his mount in a circle at the lip of the hollow and directed it into the attack again. Once more Colin stood his ground until the horse almost reached him before dodging in front of it and clear. Matteo’s teeth drew back in a tight grin as he circled around for another attempt. No matter how he dressed, the man in the kilt was no fool or coward.
Reaching the top of the hollow, Jeanie watched the strange duel. Much as she wanted to help, she saw no way of doing so. To shout advice would distract Colin at a time when he needed all his wits about him. Nor could she think of anything to say. In fact, she considered that Colin was handling himself very well.
Matteo drove his horse forward for the third time. Instead of making it go at top speed, he kept its pace down. When the Scot darted clear, Matteo set his quickly devised plan into action. Throwing back his weight, he used the reins and a blow from the flat side of the machete’s blade to twirl the horse around on its hind legs. Then he gave a yell, slammed his heels against the horse’s ribs and caused it to leap in Colin’s direction.
Taken by surprise, the Scot had no time to make a careful evasion. Instead he threw himself sideways hurriedly. Although the horse missed him, Colin felt his foot catch against a tuft of grass and he tripped. Throwing his left hand down as he fell, he broke his landing impact and did not sprawl at full length on the ground. However he found himself in a most dangerous position. There would be no chance of regaining his feet, for the bandido had already leapt to the ground. Throwing his left leg to the rear, Colin knelt on it.
Rushing up, Matteo launched a slash around designed to slice the Scot’s head almost from his body. Still on his left knee, Colin brought up his right arm and interposed the dirk between himself and the down-lashing machete. Steel clashed on steel as the heavy blade of the machete met the dirk. Made of the finest steel available in Scotland, the long knife took and held the force of the impact. Slipping down, the machete’s progress was halted by the haunches of the dirk’s hilt. Instead of the quillon guard carried by most American fighting knives, the dirk had swollen haunches to protect its user’s hand. How well they served showed when the sharp blade of the machete was prevented from descending.
Grimly Colin forced up at the machete and Matteo strained in an attempt to push the dirk down. Jeanie started to run around the hollow, meaning to throw herself on to the bandido’s back and give Colin a chance to escape. Before she arrived, Colin achieved his own salvation. Using Matteo’s downwards force as an aid to retaining his balance, Colin reached across to his right stocking top with his left hand. Gripping the hilt of the sgian-dubh, he drew it from its sheath. The short knife was no toy, or decorative miniature of the dirk, but a deadly weapon. Ending in a spear point, the blade carried an edge as sharp as a barber’s razor and had been designed to be functional. Holding the sgian-dubh with the blade below the heel of the hand, Colin chopped upwards. His aim was true and the knife bit home between the bandido’s spread-apart legs.
Pain tore through Matteo, bringing a screech from his lips. In attempt to escape from the agony, he jerked an involuntary pace to the rear. Like a flash Colin thrust himself erect. Gliding forward, he fetched the dirk around in a savage cross slash. Raking across Matteo’s throat, the sharp edge laid it open almost to the bone. Discarding his machete, the bandido spun around and crashed across Dog’s body.
Slowly the wild, savage elation of the mortal combat ebbed away from Colin. The red mists of battle cleared from his head and he looked half amazed at the destruction he had wrought.
Dashing up, babbling queries about his well-being, Jeanie flung herself into his arms. Just in time he let the two knives fall from his hands, then crushed her to him. Lifting her face towards his, the full flood of Jeanie’s emotions burst and she began to sob almost hysterically. Colin scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest until the spasm passed. Then he set her on her feet and held her at arms’ length.
‘It’s all over, lassie,’ he whispered. ‘But I’m thinking we’d best get away from here in case there are more of them about.’
Sucking down a sob, Jeanie fought to regain her normal attitude of self-possession.
‘Sure we had,’ she agreed and worry flickered across her face. ‘Don’t tell Ma or anybody how I acted just now, will you?’
‘You don’t need to ask me that, lass,’ Colin told her. ‘It’s over and forgotten. Where are their horses?’
On turning to look, Jeanie and Colin found that the horses had continued running after losing their riders. Already even Matteo’s mount was too far away for them to hope to catch it.
‘We’ve got a long walk ahead,’ Jeanie sighed. ‘And I surely hate walking.’
‘If you get tired, I’ll carry you,’ Colin promised. ‘What about your saddle?’
‘It’ll do there until we can get a hoss to tote it back. Get your knives and gun while I fetch the rest of our gear.’
Picking up his Dragoon, Colin looked at Matteo. However he could not bring himself to search the body in the hope of finding ammunition. So he gathered and cleaned his knives while Jeanie collected the rope and bagpipes from the hollow.
‘I could get that Indian’s rifle if he’s got powder and shot on him,’ Colin suggested when the girl joined him.
‘You could,’ she admitted. ‘But I wouldn’t want to chance using any Injun’s gun. They’re likely to blow up in your face most any time.’
‘It won’t be so bad when some of our folk coming looking for us,’ Colin remarked, walking with Jeanie in search of a place to climb down to the land below.
‘Something tells me that they can’t come looking,’ Jeanie answered soberly. ‘If the Tejas’re siding the Flores boys, it’s likely to be for an attack on our camp.’
‘It’s me the brothers are after,’ Colin pointed out.
‘Yeah. And only Matteo come after you. The Tejas’d want something afore they’d help out. After the way you boys handled them, I’d say their price’d be that Tiburcio and the rest of the gang helped them against us.’
‘You think they’re attacking the camp then?’
‘It’s likely. But the Kid was dogging them and’d get back word of what’s happening to Dusty. Pappy picked that camp because it’s a good place to hole up and fight. We held off and plumb discouraged a big bunch of Kiowa bad-hats there one time and with only one Henry
.’
‘Then your mother and the others have a chance,’ Colin sighed.
‘I’d say better’n a fair one with Dusty Fog along. That boy’s one whole he-coon in a fight and his pards’re no slouches. Still, sooner we’re back there the better for all of us.’
Once down on the level ground, Colin allowed Jeanie to lead the way. She made for the bosque and they crossed the stream at the point where the horses had carried them over on the way out. Through the trees, Jeanie continued to keep almost to the line taken by them during the wild chase from the camp. Although they kept alert, they neither saw nor heard anything to disturb them. Then the distant crackle of gunfire brought them to a halt.
‘It’s from the camp!’ Jeanie said and started forward.
‘Come on—!’
‘Slow down, lass!’ Colin ordered, catching her arm and bringing her to a halt. ‘We can’t run all the way and arrive in any condition to fight.’
‘That’s for sure,’ Jeanie admitted. ‘Only Ma and the others—’
‘I’m worrying about them too, lass. But it’ll do them no good if we rush up and are taken prisoner by those red heathens.’
‘How do we play it then?’
‘Keep walking at a steady pace, watching our step all the way. Once we get close enough to see what’s happening, we can decide what to do for the best.’
Listening, Jeanie told herself that Colin had a damned good grasp of the situation and had put up the only sensible idea. With that decided, she allowed him to set the speed at which they walked and held down her impatience. Every one of her previous misgivings about the Scot had completely disappeared. There was a man any Texas gal would be right pleased to marry, happen he got around to asking her. Even if he did not, Jeanie decided that the end result would be the same.
‘It’s a free country,’ she mused. ‘So why can’t a gal do the asking if the feller won’t?’
Walking on, she put aside her flippant thought. The shooting died away, then welled up for a short time and faded off. Although the odd shots cracked out, the volume of fire did not rise again. Having been through Indian attacks before, Jeanie guessed that the assault had failed. Most likely the Indians were backed off, leaving a few men to harass the defenders while the rest re-made their medicine. The idea gained strength as they drew nearer and she could hear the reports better.