Tanglewood Desperadoes

by Paul Lederer

  ‘But would you?’ Trace asked. Cole had already made his threats and he trusted the leader of the Clinch Mountain boys about as far as he would a diamondback rattlesnake. Cole didn’t bother to answer.

  ‘What about me?’ they heard Prince Blakely ask Lockhart. It still hadn’t fully occurred to Blakely that he was a man of no further importance or use to anyone involved.

  ‘Better figure where you’re going to set up,’ Laredo suggested. The sounds of horses crashing through the brush below them had grown nearer. It would be dark soon and the Clinch Mountain boys would want to make their assault while there was still enough light to shoot by.

  ‘I guess we’d better,’ Curt agreed. ‘It’s either that or withdraw further.’ But looking up the hillslope, he could see there was no place else to go. They had managed to box themselves in. The bench had seemed ideal at the time, but now without the option of escape, it could prove to be a death trap.

  It all depended on how eager the Clinch Mountain boys were to draw blood.

  Plenty eager, it seemed, as the first of the horsemen below emerged from the heavy brush and arrived at a small dry-grass clearing at the foot of the bluff. How they hoped to charge the hill successfully was not evident; that was probably why their leaders had held up – to devise a strategy.

  The poor light was going to hinder them, certainly, but Laredo knew that there were two narrow trails leading up to the bluff and only three men to hold them.

  ‘Last chance,’ Cole Lockhart said.

  ‘Or I could just hand you my gun and let you shoot me,’ Trace said with bitter anger. ‘Ruby, get as far back as you can.’

  ‘I can shoot, you know,’ Ruby said defiantly.

  ‘I know you can – I just don’t want you doing it. Get back, even if it means hiding in the cave.’

  ‘With those bats!’

  ‘They’re nasty, but not deadly,’ Trace snapped, obviously now uneasy not for his own safety, but for Ruby Lee’s.

  ‘Better pick your positions,’ Laredo repeated. ‘I’ll set up to watch the south trail. I doubt they’ll find it in this light, but you never know. We can’t be having them walk in the back door.’

  Laredo started in that direction, Winchester in hand, wondering why he had volunteered himself for this fight which should have been none of his own. He found a good position – a huge split yellow boulder with a notch for firing. It nearly faced the trail head. It would be difficult for anyone to get past his rifle until darkness settled. Then he would not be able to see anyone approaching. Convincing himself that it would be equally difficult for anyone to follow the narrow trail in full darkness, he settled in to wait.

  Just as the first shots rang out, echoing across the Tanglewood.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The first Clinch Mountain man that Curt Wagner saw must have been half-Indian. He had managed to slip through the shadows halfway up the north trail before anyone heard or saw him coming. But the man rose up and was silhouetted against the stars, illuminated faintly by the light of smoky dusk and Curt settled his sights on him and triggered off. The man waved his hands wildly in the air and then toppled from the trail to plunge to the earth fifty feet below.

  One down, twenty to go.

  After trying the sneak assault, the Clinch Mountain boys adopted more muscular tactics. Curt had given notice that he was there, but had also given his position away and a barrage of rifle fire peppered the rocks where he had taken shelter. They must have fired fifty, a hundred bullets in his direction, spraying him with rock chips as the lead ricocheted off into the cool night, singing past his head.

  Curt hunkered down, covering his head. There was nothing else he could do without taking a few bullets. Across the way Trace opened up with his rifle, scattering a few of the Clinch Mountain boys. That just succeeded in bring a fusillade of shots in his direction and Trace found himself forced to take cover as well. They were simply outgunned. The Clinch Mountain boys were determined to rescue Cole. Maybe, Trace thought, they should have considered Cole’s offer more seriously.

  The Clinch Mountain boys certainly were not lacking ammunition. Shots rang out constantly, and there was no way for Curt or Trace even to lift their heads, let alone draw a bead. Both men knew what the idea behind this was; there would be men ascending the trail by now, protected by covering fire. Sooner or later there would be no choice but to rise up and face the music. Trace hoped that Ruby had followed his advice and retreated to the shelter of the cave, although there was no guarantee of real safety there since Cole, obviously, knew where she was. There was no telling what the outlaw leader would plan for her if his men were victorious.

  Laredo watched the heavy fighting from his position above the south trail. No one had so far tried to approach the camp on that side of the bluff. Possibly, as he had speculated, no one knew of its existence. Still you never knew. He considered firing back from his shelter, to try to help the two men out, but that would be advertising his own position. Maybe it was better to wait things out. If any of the Clinch Mountain boys achieved the bench, that would be the time to cut loose. For now he would hold his fire as a storm of bullets pierced the night. Laredo saw one wildly aimed shot take down a bat in flight. It would have been comic – under the circumstances.

  The guns below fell silent. To Laredo that meant only one thing – the Clinch Mountain boys figured that they had achieved their goal and were now in position to rush the ledge. Further fire would come too close to their own men as they assaulted the camp. Feeling now that the south trail would not be utilized in the attack, he slipped away from the boulders and made his way back toward Curt and Trace, moving in a low crouch.

  He had taken no more than a dozen steps when he saw one of the raiders hoist himself up over the lip of the bench and begin moving stealthily toward Curt Wagner’s position, pistol in hand.

  ‘Hey!’ Laredo called out, not too loudly, and the man turned toward him, gun lifting. As he swung toward Laredo, Laredo shot him. The bullet from his Winchester caught the Clinch Mountain man full in the chest and he staggered back, falling over the rim of the bluff.

  That had been only a sample of what was to be. Before Laredo could reach Curt where he knelt positioned behind a stack of broken rocks, the assault began in earnest. In the light of purple dusk maybe half a dozen or a dozen dark shadows emerged from the head of the north trail, crawled up on to the bench and began their eerie, starlit attack.

  Laredo shot one man, switched his sights to another without pausing to see how much damage his bullet had done, and continued firing at the silhouetted raiders who seemed to have little more substance than arcade targets – except they were firing back.

  Laredo slumped behind the rocks, fishing for more shells for his Winchester as Curt banged away with his own rifle. Across the way Laredo saw a man creeping up on Trace Dawson’s position, Colt in hand, and he yelled out a warning. Trace spun and fired, catching the man in the abdomen with a shot from his rifle.

  The evening grew still.

  ‘Think they’ve had enough?’ Curt Wagner asked in a dry voice.

  ‘There’s no telling. They may just be regrouping.’

  ‘How many of them did we get?’

  Laredo just shook his head. He couldn’t estimate. Maybe three or four, perhaps half a dozen. Half their force? There was no telling. He did have a suggestion.

  ‘Maybe we ought to pull back, Curt.’

  ‘To where? There’s nowhere to go.’

  ‘The cave. That way there’s no way anyone can get behind us. They’ll play hell digging us out of there.’

  ‘It’s a filthy place,’ Curt said with disgust. ‘Centuries of bat guano.’

  ‘You couldn’t hate those flying vennin as much as I do,’ Laredo answered, ‘but it’s the safest refuge we have available.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Curt said with a heavy sigh. ‘Tell Trace – he’s still the man in charge.’

  Trace seemed more willing than either Laredo or Curt t
o pull back to the cave. Ruby would be there. ‘The prisoners?’ was all he asked Laredo.

  ‘We’ll drag them along. They might still prove to be bargaining chips, used properly.’

  A few more of the Clinch Mountain boys had made it up on to the bench and shots rang out as they fired at the retreating men. Laredo fired back at the muzzle flashes as Trace and Curt hurried the prisoners on toward the shelter of the cave. Someone yelled out and the Clinch Mountain gang now held their fire. They must have realized that Cole Lockhart was among the fleeing men and were afraid of tagging their leader with a stray bullet.

  They would hold off for a time now to reassess their position, but they would come forward again eventually. They weren’t accustomed to losing battles, and they weren’t prepared to accept defeat.

  Complete darkness settled as the three Tanglewood men – Laredo was beginning to consider himself one of them – sheltered up in the cave leaving their prisoners seated against the front wall. The stench in the cave was almost unbearable to Laredo. Inches thick everywhere across the floor of the cave, mounded in favorite roosting places, the guano stank like decomposing bodies drenched in ammonia. He kept as near to the mouth of the cave as possible.

  The smell was so reminiscent of that gun battle in an Albuquerque cave, that it carried a memory of death with it to his deepest senses. He smiled grimly. Like everything else in his life, these events seemed never to end, just to become cyclical, recurring at the whims of Fate.

  It was at times like this that he thought Dusty was right: he should get out of this business.

  ‘See any of them?’ Curt asked at his shoulder and Laredo shook his head.

  ‘We’re not likely to in this light. Unless someone makes a clumsy mistake.

  ‘I can still get you out of this,’ Cole Lockhart said from his seated position along the streaked wall.

  ‘Maybe we should at least consider the offer,’ Curt said.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Trace Dawson said. ‘All we’d accomplish is giving the enemy one more gunhand. He’s not the sort of man you can trust.’

  ‘I can get the bar girl out of this alive,’ Cole said, nodding toward Ruby who was only a shadow in the cave.

  ‘Trace?’

  ‘No,’ Dawson said firmly.

  ‘What do you think, Laredo?’ Curt Wagner asked.

  ‘If I have a vote,’ Laredo said, ‘I’m with Trace on this – you’d be making a deal with the devil.’

  ‘You’re right, of course,’ Wagner the former lawman, said heavily. Glancing around he commented, ‘It’s just that I never thought I’d have to end my days in a place like this. I was grasping at straws.’

  ‘Let’s put our heads together and try to find another solution,’ Laredo said. ‘The Clinch Mountain boys aren’t planning on peppering the cave with fire or they would have begun already. I suppose they don’t want to risk hitting Lockhart, which they might with the way bullets would ricochet around in here.’

  ‘What then?’ Curt asked. The tall man looked older now, his face strained and drawn. ‘We can’t rush them and we can’t escape.’

  ‘Maybe we can,’ Ruby said, walking toward them.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Trace asked her.

  ‘Hasn’t anyone noticed? It’s lighter in here than it has a right to be, and I’ve seen a few bats enter the cave from somewhere other than that opening. There’s another way in – and out – somewhere.’

  ‘Large enough for a bat,’ Curt said.

  ‘And maybe for us. Let’s at least look,’ she said, encouraging the men.

  Curt, who had no faith in the plan, was left to stand watch at the mouth of the cave while Trace and Laredo followed Ruby Lee to where she had seen what might have been an opening in the roof. She pointed up, but neither man saw anything.

  Until Laredo spotted a clearly shining star glimmering in a small gap in the cavern ceiling. He nudged Trace and pointed it out. The roof was low enough that a man could reach it jumping up. It was a small aperture, no more than three feet wide, but it was a possible exit.

  ‘What would we do even if we could get up there?’ Trace asked pessimistically.

  ‘What are we going to do here?’ Laredo said. ‘I say we give it a try.’

  ‘So do I,’ Ruby agreed. ‘Trace,’ she said, taking his hand, ‘it’s a hope. Staying here is only slow suicide.’

  ‘The prisoners would have to be untied.…’

  ‘To hell with the prisoners,’ Laredo said with heat. ‘Leave them here. Cole’s men will eventually come to rescue him – as to what happens to Blakely, do we really care?’

  ‘It’s a chance, Trace,’ Ruby said, and there was enough starlight to show the pleading in her eyes. It was that more than anything that had been said that made Trace Dawson decide.

  ‘All right then. Let’s see if we can wriggle through. Curt!’ he called, ‘can you hold them back?’

  ‘I can try. I don’t see anyone moving yet.’

  Trace nodded, looking up at the narrow opening. ‘All right; who goes first?’

  ‘I’ll try it if you’ll give me a leg up,’ Laredo volunteered. At least if he died it would be in the fresh air. There could be men up there watching, but that seemed unlikely. No one without leathery wings had explored this cave for centuries. Who would want to?

  Trace handed Ruby his rifle and clasped his hands together, forming a boosting strap for Laredo. Laredo reached out, grasped the rim of the opening and pulled down a shower of rocks and mud left from the rain of the day before. He bowed his head and sputtered but remained where he was, reaching up again. This time he found firm purchase and with Trace Dawson hoisting from below, Laredo clambered up and out, rolling on to his stomach on the firm ground above, which proved to be a little knoll with scattered sagebrush and a small stand of nopal cactus.

  Laredo peered down into the hole and gestured, then he crawled forward to look down along the bench where he could see the Clinch Mountain boys taking up their positions behind the rocks, apparently intent on waiting out the cornered Tanglewood gang, at least until morning light. Laredo crept back to the opening and gestured with his hand.

  Ruby was the next one up. Laredo motioned for her to be silent.

  Curt, seeing what was going on, had taken the time to gag their two prisoners with his scarf and Cole’s own bandana. They could not risk having an alarm raised now. Then he crossed to the ceiling opening where still small rocks and mud trickled into the cave, formed a stirrup for Trace and hoisted him up. Curt was last, but he was several inches taller than the other men and he was able simply to leap up and grip the rim of the opening. Laredo’s hand shot down and grabbed his belt, helping Curt up and over the edge.

  None of them had an idea where they were, or which way to go, but communicating in sign language, they decided to strike out toward the north, across the knoll, leaving the bats to their home.

  A chill had settled again and clouds appeared to the north. The scent of sagebrush was heavy in the air, and they traveled on only by starlight, it being too early for the moon. More than once Laredo stumbled, tripping over rocks and unseen chaparral plants, but he was breathing clean air away from the stench of the cave and he actually smiled in the darkness. If everything was truly cyclical, and he had escaped a cave again, then that meant that he was destined to arrive home safely again to his Dusty.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  There must have been a dozen people inside Storm Ross’s Lordsberg bank when Laredo ambled in the next morning at sunrise after a rough trek across the countryside. The town mayor was there along with three men Laredo knew well from the Tucson Bank Examiner’s office, a couple of legal men along with a US marshal from Denver who had arrived on the evening stage, and Laredo’s boss, Deacon Cody, himself.

  ‘Well, Laredo, things do get tangled up, don’t they?’ Deacon said, taking Laredo’s hand warmly.

  ‘It seems so. Why am I the one who always gets these kinds of cases.’

  Deacon Cody was not smiling
when he replied, ‘Because you’re the best, Laredo. That’s all there is to it. How much time are you going to want off?’

  ‘Enough to reacquaint myself with my wife anyway – a month probably. I’ll be getting antsy and ready to go again by then, I’d guess.’

  ‘Well, I suppose we can spare you for that long,’ Deacon said, looping his arm over Laredo’s shoulders, ‘although we have been having trouble with a string of bank robberies down in the Mesa area.…’

  ‘I’ll talk to you about it later,’ Laredo said. ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘What isn’t? I’ve seen dirtier banks before, but I can’t remember when. The men from Denver are going over the books. As of now they’ve already determined that the lands seized from the displaced Wakapee Valley were taken illegally – the reason he’s been sent down here,’ Deacon said, nodding at the big redheaded man with the US marshal’s badge on his vest. ‘Someone is going to prison, that’s for sure.’

  ‘And the Tanglewood gang?’ Laredo asked carefully.

  ‘Why, they’ll get their land back of course.’

  ‘I meant … criminal charges?’

  ‘Who’s going to file them?’ Deacon asked reasonably. ‘Not the bank, not the town marshal who has not yet returned from the Tanglewood, as you call it, and probably got himself shot up there. Not the mayor – he’s over there, and just told me that he wants a decent man as Lordsberg’s marshal and has hired someone named Curt Wagner again, if you know him.’

  Laredo only nodded. He was weary beyond words. Deacon Cody could see that now, and he quit talking except to say, ‘Go home, Laredo. Report to me in thirty days.’

  ‘I will,’ he promised, ‘unless I come up with enough common sense in the meantime to take Dusty’s advice and finally get out of this business.’

  ‘There’s another minor matter,’ Deacon said, just as Curt Wagner, wearing a badge on his shirt front, entered the bank from the sun bright street. ‘But I’ll let the town marshal ask you.’

  ‘How are you doing?’ Curt asked, taking Laredo’s hand warmly.