by J. T. Edson
Nobody spoke much for a time after Dusty’s decision not to let the Kid follow Gomez. While the mesteneros went about their various tasks, the Texans gathered at the fire with Ma, Jeanie and Colin. They all knew that a fight with Flores could not be avoided and wondered how the young Scot would fare against an experienced man like the bandido. April walked over, bringing a tray loaded with mugs of coffee.
‘I’ve allus found it’s easier to think over a pot of Arbuckle’s,’xv the blonde remarked. ‘And there’s some thinking needs doing right now.’
‘How will he fight do you think, Dusty?’ Colin asked after a slight pause.
‘Could be any way,’ the small Texan answered. ‘He had a Spencer rifle yesterday, so he might use that.’
‘You’d best take your Henry along,’ the Kid suggested.
‘I’m a better shot with the old double,’ Colin replied.
‘Then take that,’ Dusty said. ‘You’ll have your Dragoon, but stay out of a close-up, draw-and-shoot if you can.’
At the mention of the Dragoon, Jeanie stiffened slightly and looked hard towards the gun in Colin’s holster. Then she turned and whispered into her mother’s ear. Surprise flickered briefly across Ma’s face, to be replaced by a faint smile as she nodded in agreement to her daughter’s request. Standing up, Jeanie walked away from the fire. Colin watched her go in a puzzled manner, unable to understand why she went without an explanation.
‘I’d say he’ll fight shy of using a knife after you finished Matteo with one,’ Mark said as Jeanie swung out of sight into the living room. ‘But you’d best have that Arkansas toothpick along just in case.’
‘Aye,’ Colin answered in a distracted manner.
Jeanie appeared at the end of the wagon and dropped to the ground. ‘Colin,’ she called.
Straightening himself from squatting on his heels, Colin strode towards the girl. He saw that she had her hands behind her back but gave it no thought. There was a light in her eyes which held his full attention.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘I love you,’ she replied. ‘No. Let me finish. I treated you mean and said some bad things when we first met—’
‘I deserved them—’
‘Please, Colin!’ she breathed. ‘I’m sorry for everything I said and—and here, when you go after Flores, tomorrow, take this.’
Bringing her right hand into sight, she held her father’s ivory-handled Dragoon Colt in Colin’s direction.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Damned if I’d’ve thought it, but it looks like Flores’s playing it straight,’ the Ysabel Kid commented as he rode with Dusty, Mark and Colin towards the deserted village. ‘Look over the other side there.’
On a ridge almost half a mile beyond the village, two sombrero and serape-clad figures sat their horses under the branches of a big old cottonwood tree. They were sufficiently far from the buildings to be out of the game ahead and there was not enough cover for them to dismount and sneak back to help their boss.
‘He could have more men on hand,’ Mark pointed out.
‘Could,’ admitted the Kid. ‘But I’m betting he hasn’t. He’s lost some since the hold-up and likely had others quit on him. And he’d’ve brought every man he had when he jumped the camp. Nope, I’d say those two’re all the help he’s got left.’
‘I go along with you, Lon,’ Dusty said. ‘Flores wouldn’t play it this way if he had more men.’
‘Then it’s just him and me,’ Colin put in quietly.
‘That’s how it looks,’ Dusty agreed. ‘On—’
‘I just saw a smidgen of a flicker down there!’ interrupted the Kid. ‘Either Flores’s sending mirror signals, or he’s watching us through field-glasses.’
‘Mostly likely watching us,’ Mark guessed. ‘There’s nobody around for him to signal to.’
‘We can’t go much farther, Colin,’ Dusty warned. ‘But if there’s any hint of more of them around, hunt for a hole and we’ll come running.’
‘A stupid, dead hero’s no use to Jeanie,’ Mark went on. ‘Sides which, think about us three.’
‘How do you mean?’ Colin asked, sounding puzzled.
‘Happen you got shot that ways, it’d be us who’d have to go back and face her,’ the blond giant explained, holding out a big right hand. ‘Good luck, amigo.’
After shaking hands with the Texans, Colin went forward alone. He sat his saddle with tense alertness, the heavy caliber double-rifle’s butt resting on his knee and barrels pointing into the air. Riding in his holster was the ivory-handled Dragoon Colt, while the dirk hung at his other side.
Approaching the edge of the village, Colin dismounted. Going into a fight, he preferred to be on foot rather than riding. So he left the horse standing with its reins trailing and walked forward. He held the rifle ready for use and looked along the street. Under the circumstances, the crumbling buildings seemed extra stark and almost menacing. However Colin saw nothing of his waiting enemy. Then he became aware that a man had come from a house at the other end of the street. With a feeling of shock, Colin realized that it was Gomez. The man wore neither sombrero not serape but carried a Spencer rifle.
Amusement flickered on Gomez’s face as he brought the Spencer to his shoulder and commenced to take a leisurely aim. Everything appeared to be going just as Flores had planned. Clearly the dummies, dressed in spare clothing and mounted on horses picked up during the return from the fatal attack on the camp, had fooled the Texans—even Cabrito. More than that, the bandido leader had correctly predicted how the man in the skirt would be armed. Thinking back to how Vicente had been killed, Tiburcio decided that Colin Farquharson would use a shotgun. So he had made his arrangements accordingly, placing Gomez at the far end of the street with orders to make use of the Spencer’s superior range.
The bandido felt no great concern as he saw his victim also raising a weapon. At something over a hundred yards, the nine balls from the shotgun would have spread so that only luck might guide one his way. With that thought in mind, Gomez saw no need to hurry in taking aim and made the last mistake of his mis-spent life.
Swiftly, yet carefully, Colin lined the double barrels of the gun on Gomez and squeezed its forward trigger. A heavy powder charge burned and the rifle boomed like a small cannon in the stillness of the evening. Speeding through the air, a .600 caliber bullet glanced from the barrel of the Spencer and struck the center of the bandido’s forehead. Lifted from his feet by the impact, his skull a shattered ruin, Gomez crashed backwards.
Even as he fired, Colin caught a movement from the corner of his eye. Like a flash he swiveled around and dropped to his left knee in turning. Lead slapped the air by his head and he saw Cijar framed in the window of the nearest building. Finding himself detected and having missed with his shot, the mestenero jerked back behind the wall. He was content to be out of Colin’s sight and waited for Tiburcio to intervene before attempting to show himself.
Again the heavy rifle bellowed. The large caliber bullet drove through the adobe wall as if it had been so much paper and struck Cijar. Churning into his arm, the lead passed through to his chest. Giving a choking cry, the man staggered in a circle, tripped and fell.
A shot crashed from along the street and Colin felt a searing pain on his left arm. Letting the empty rifle fall, he threw himself sideways and twisted to face his next assailant. Face distorted with rage, Tiburcio Flores hurled himself into the center of the street. Colin could see the smoke-wrapped shape approaching and bullets flew around him. Landing on the street, he brought the Dragoon from its holster. Even as Flores came to a halt so as to shoot straighter, Colin fired. Hit in the center of the chest, the bandido fell, screaming curses.
At the first hint of treachery, Dusty, Mark and the Kid had set their horses moving. However they had almost half a mile to cover and by the time they arrived, the last of the Flores gang lay dying. Getting back to his feet, Colin shook his left hand and worked its throbbing fingers. Blood dribbled from where F
lores’ bullet had raked a furrow along his forearm.
‘He had men with him,’ Colin told the Texans when they arrived.
‘And they didn’t do him one lil bit of good,’ replied the Kid. ‘You sure you don’t have Comanche blood, Colin? You sure fight like a Nemenuh.’
‘Move aside, you danged Tshaoh!’ Mark snorted. ‘Leave me fix up this forty-four caliber man’s arm.’
‘Yes sir, amigo.’ Dusty went on. ‘You’ve earned being called a forty-four caliber man, Colin.’
Not even the fact that he had gained what amounted to an accolade from the Texans equaled the pleasure Colin felt over how Jeanie greeted him on his return. Rushing forward regardless of the watching mesteneros, she threw her arms about his neck and had to be reassured that he was not seriously hurt. With that attended to Colin went to Ma and took the Dragoon from his holster.
‘Keep it, son,’ she said, glancing at Jeanie and smiling. ‘Nobody’ll say you’re not man enough to carry it now.’
That night Jeanie and Colin strolled together along the stream’s banks. After discussing the hunt which would start the following morning, they both tried to bring up the subject each wanted to air. Jeanie had never been long on patience and Colin smiled as he waited to see how she would handle the situation. At last she reached down to stroke the rough material of his kilt.
‘Colin,’ she whispered. ‘What do you wear under this?’
‘That’s something a Scot can only tell his wife,’ he replied, taking her hand in his.
‘All right,’ she smiled, nestling closer to him. ‘If that’s the only way I can find out, I’ll marry you.’
‘I thought you’d never ask me,’ Colin grinned. ‘Let’s go and tell Ma.’
Walking towards the camp at the side of her forty-four caliber man, Jeanie gave a little chuckle. Let him think that he had tricked her into doing the proposing if it made him happy. She had known the answer to her question ever since following Colin up the canyon wall.
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The Floating Outfit Series
1: The Ysabel Kid
i As told in Comanche
ii As told in The Ysabel Kid
iii Ka-Dih; The Great Spirit God of the Comanche
iv Pelados; a corpse-robber of thief of the lowest kind
v Bayo naranjado: a bright orange dun with white mane and tail
vi Swish – a homosexual
vii Told in The Colt and the Sabre
viii Told in the Rebel Spy
ix Told in The Fastest Gun in Texas
x Told in The Bad Bunch
xi Mestanas: Bands of wild horses
xii Slogan: Clan rallying cry meaning ‘Cairn of Remembrance’
xiii Tshaoh, Nemenuh: Two names for the Comanche nation
xiv Tuivitsi: Young, inexperienced brave
xv Arbuckle’s: the most popular brand of coffee in the early West