The Riflemen

by Tony Masero

  “Yes, here, I’ve got them.” He struck a match and there was a flash, then a bloom of light spread as the lamp wick ignited. “Shut that trap behind you, Thaddeus, and bring one of those lamps then break up the rest. Let’s keep them in the dark.”

  “Maybe I should stick around, Mister Nick. Kind of deter that Billy Ray from following too close.”

  “All right. He opens that trap, you let him have it. But come right on after us then. No point in waiting around. I got you out of here once, I’m not about to do it again. You hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Thaddeus said with a cynical grin. “Don’t you worry none, I’ll just stay here and risk my neck whilst you white folk makes your getaway. Don’t want to cause no fuss nor bother.”

  “Aww,” groaned Guardeen disgustedly. “I’ve not got time to argue with you. Come on, Miss Lenoir. Mind your step, don’t trip on your skirts.”

  “Don’t you pay him no heed, Missy,” Thaddeus’s voice followed them down the stairway. “He’s just got to tell everyone what’s to do. Sometimes I believe the man can even walk on water, I surely do.”

  Their footsteps echoed hollowly as they descended and the lantern fluttered with an updraft and threw their shadows in weird patterns on the ancient walls. Guardeen went as fast as he could but it was difficult in the narrow passage on the steeply cut steps. Christine struggled to keep up, her petticoats and dress swishing against the walls on each side.

  There was no sound from below and he was concerned that their might be some sort of ambush planned by Wyatt.

  “Do you know if there’s a layby anywhere down here?” he asked Christine. “An opening off to one side, something like that?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve never actually been down here. Was told about it by Lowell. Guess he heard it from Wyatt some time. What happened to him, by the way?”

  “Uh, Beckett? Um, he decided to take the outer stairway back down.”

  “I detect a note of hesitation there, Mr. Guardeen… Did he go of his own free will … or with a little encouragement from you?”

  Guardeen slowed his pace a little, as he heard her breathlessness and knew he was pushing her too hard. “Did he mean something to you, Miss Lenoir?”

  “Please, call me Christine. He was a means to an end. No more than that. Not a pleasant person, too loyal a servant of Wyatt for my taste.”

  “Well, he won’t be troubling you any more. What I started with him, one of Doolin’s men finished. Why’d you stick with him anyway, what with all his beating on you?”

  Her voice dropped. “No doubt you will think ill of me for that. For forming a liaison with someone I didn’t care a jot about. And, you know what, Mr. Guardeen, I don’t really give a damn what you or anybody else thinks. I mean to get rid of Wyatt one way or the other, with your help or without it. And I’ll use any means at my disposal. Being a woman, that leaves me very few options.”

  “It’s okay by me, ma’am. Doubtless, you’ve got your reasons. But, hey, with a vengeful attitude like that, don’t let me get on your wrong side now, will you?”

  She snorted a laugh. “If Wyatt had done to you what he did to me you’d want his hide, believe me.”

  Guardeen pressed on holding the lamp high so he could see ahead and not be blinded by the glare. “And what was it that was so bad you’d like his head in a basket?”

  “He stole my son.”

  Alarmingly, there was a loud explosion that boomed down the stairway, followed by a rapid tattoo of pistol and rifle shots, their noise filling the corridor in deafening echoes.

  “Sounds like Thaddeus’s made them welcome back there.”

  “Will he be all right? You didn’t seem to care too much what happens to him.”

  “Thaddeus? Well, ma’am, Thaddeus’s got more lives than is healthy for anyone. He’ll be along directly, don’t you worry.”

  A great bloom of light suddenly burst into the passageway. A roiling blast of bright flame and before it the dark silhouette of Thaddeus came racing down the steps toward them.

  “Should hold them,” he called. “I just lit up a barrel of lamp oil they’d stored in that room. The fire’ll keep them busy until we get out of here.”

  “Good work, partner,” said Guardeen.

  They reached the bottom of the long stairway without further incident. The steps ended in a hard earth packed floor that extended out into an empty circular stone well with an open doorway built into one side. They found themselves below ground level in a chamber where sunlight streamed down a set of stone steps from the outside. Beyond that, there was a moving flurry of color and a great deal of noise.

  “What’s going on out there?” Thaddeus asked.

  “Its those Indians,” Guardeen said, peering cautiously over the stone lip. “They’re already as drunk as skunks. Must’ve discovered that liquor they had made for them. Looks like it’s pickled their brains; they’re going crazy out there.”

  Thaddeus and Christine climbed up the steps and peeked over the edge.

  The parade ground was a heaving mix of wild activity with people milling about in disarray. Some soldiers were obviously trying to calm the Indians, who wildly galloped their horses around but it was to little avail. The Apaches screamed war cries and poured liquor down their throats in an almost manic orgy of drunkenness. Here and there, fights had broken out, the madness extending amongst the soldiery as well as the Apache.

  “It’s our chance,” said Guardeen. “Christine, can we make it to that side gate?”

  “Yes, I still have the keys. I had no opportunity to return them.”

  “That’s our good fortune right there. Thaddeus, stay behind us, there’s a backdoor tunnel over there and it’s our way out through the wall. Stay close and keep your head down, might be we’ll get away with it in all this mayhem.”

  They began their run, dodging and avoiding the whirling Apache and milling soldiery as they raced by. Some of the crowd staggered drunkenly and Guardeen elbowed them aside. The three moved through the crowd like a bow wave. Guardeen thrusting here and there and Thaddeus behind using his Springfield to good effect.

  A hard looking, red-faced Confederate turned as Thaddeus poked him aside, “Hey, there, black boy. Who you pushing? Say, wait a minute, ain’t you that…?” Thaddeus’s rifle butt struck him solidly between the eyes, and the man staggered back a few paces in a dazed state but he kept on his feet and shouted, “Escape! Look here! Prisoners escaped!” His voice was lost amongst all the other noise and a pivoting Indian pony caught him with its hindquarters and threw the man headlong back into the crowd.

  A woman in a torn dress ran screaming past them, chased by a leering soldier brandishing a half empty bottle.

  Guardeen ignored them all and lurched on, dragging Christine with him, intent only on reaching the gate come what may.

  An Apache and a soldier were brawling in the dust at their feet. Knives were drawn and blood flowed. He saw the cause of all the problems now: a crowd gathered around two great barrels that had been broached and set on stands by the sutler’s storeroom door. Liquor flowed freely into panniers and jugs by the gushing gallon. From a neighboring storeroom, weapons were being handed out to the Indians and through the door Guardeen could see boxes of ammunition and stacked barrels of black powder.

  The Indians, wild with delight, fired their new rifles and pistols indiscriminately into the air.

  “Nothing like whisky and weapons to cause a ruckus,” Guardeen muttered. “Some kind of army they have here. Isn’t an ounce of discipline left in the whole place.”

  They stood before the small door in the fortress wall and the two men turned to face the crowd, covering Christine as she unlocked it. In a moment, they were through, Christine locking the door behind them. “So far, so good,” she breathed thankfully. “I didn’t think we’d get through that mob in one piece.”

  Five minutes later, they were through the tunnel and on the far side of the wall, making their way into the cover of the mountain gu
llies beyond.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was a cold night and they all suffered on the open plateau, the chill air and no food making for poor bedfellows. Guardeen gave Christine his blanket and they sat hunched together with their backs against the cliff wall. Thaddeus slept an exhausted sleep, apparently too tired and beaten even to mind the cold. His Sharps ready across his lap, Guardeen kept watch on the fort below. The parade ground slowly emptied as the liquor ran out and the jaded revelers went to their beds or slept where they dropped. The whole fort became still. Bodies lay everywhere, the dead drunk and even some dead amongst them, like the aftermath of a battle. A few lanterns burned and by their light he watched for Wyatt to make an appearance.

  “Where did he go, do you think?” Christine asked, huddling inside the blanket. Her gown was no protection against the biting cold of the desert night air.

  “Lord knows, but he knows I’m serious. He’ll be looking to protect himself.”

  “Is it an impossible task now, do you think?”

  “He just has to show his nose and I’ll nail him but, yes, its harder now. Even so, I’ll get him.”

  “You’re very sure of yourself, Mister Guardeen.”

  He patted the long rifle. “In this I am.”

  She moved in closer to him. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I’m very cold.”

  “Help yourself. But if there’s activity down there, you’d better move aside fast, because I will.”

  She chuckled. “You really do have a one track mind, don’t you?”

  “When it comes to shooting, that’s how I am.”

  She nestled against him and he felt a wave of unsettling discomfort as her hair brushed his cheek. He shook his head, her warmth and scent were distractions he could do without at this moment. He knew he should push her away and keep his mind clear and sharp. But the comfortable feel of her leaning softly against his shoulder undermined his resolve.

  “You said Wyatt stole your son, how’d that happen?”

  She sighed and her fingers fiddled with the edge of the blanket in a distracted fashion. “I suppose I should tell you all of it now. When Wyatt came to my father’s house, I fell for him right away. I was barely out of school. Eighteen years old. Young and impressionable and here suddenly was a striking older man, with every appearance of being a worthy upright business person paying me the kind of attention every girl dreams about. He seemed wealthy, intelligent and charming. I was swept off my feet. And truly smitten ....” She paused for a second, remembering. “I took up with him. Not to put a fine point on it, I gave myself to him as his mistress. I left my home and moved into a house that Wyatt owned. He could do no wrong for me then and I did everything I possibly could to make him happy.”

  Guardeen’s attention wandered from the fort and he glanced at her. Her features were hidden in shadow but he could hear the catch of despair in her voice and he understood what she was not saying out loud.. “You carried his child?”

  “Yes. Not enough that it broke my father’s heart I had run off with Wyatt, then to have a child out of wedlock by him. It was a great social shame and embarrassment. My father deserved better from me, he was a good man.” She broke off and let out a sob,

  “Do you want to go on with this?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course. Eventually, it became clear that Wyatt had been using his directorship to encourage huge loans to be passed by the bank, supposedly for grand investment purposes. But it was investment in businesses that didn’t exist in other than shell form. Nominal steel mills that existed only on paper, lumber camps that no one could find on any map.” She breathed a long sigh. “In truth, the bank was subsidizing Wyatt’s solo move into the railroads. He justified it by saying it was for the good of the investors, but in reality the whole devious plan had been so cunningly underwritten that legally he was the sole recipient of all benefits. In time, it brought down the bank and destroyed my poor father, who could see no other way out and in despair took his own life”

  “A slippery customer, right enough, this Wyatt. Never could understand those rich critters, destroying folk with paper rather than lead. Although it all comes down to the same thing in the end, I guess.”

  “My son was born by then. Christopher. And as Wyatt’s dealings came out into the open, I was devastated. I couldn’t believe that he was such a creature; he hid his true nature so well. But my father’s suicide finally broke any bond between us and I determined to leave him. He is clever, though, he saw how it was going. I hadn’t yet learned to keep my feelings secret. So he hid my son away and threw me out of the house before I could make good my escape with Christopher. My situation in society was that of a shamed and ruined woman and I had nowhere else to go, as my father had been my only living relative. There was some money he left me, God bless him for that. For without it I wouldn’t have survived.” Her voice faltered, as if at the memory her words must evoke. “I went to Wyatt, I begged him on my knees for the return of Christopher but he would have none of it. He already had another woman filling his bed and I was not welcome. And then… some months later ...” She stopped, as if words failed her. A gentle sob escaped her lips. “Then I received a black mourning card. I remember it still, deckle edged with a delicate copperplate script. The ’flu epidemic. It had carried my boy off. He was dead. Dead and gone and I did not even get to see him one last time...” She cried, hunched over and shaking with her inner pain, and Guardeen felt helpless at his inability to comfort her.

  Finally, she composed herself and went on. “Oh, Wyatt was full of anguish at the loss of his only son and heir, so he decided to take it out on me. Out of spite, he forbade me access to the funeral. He had men detain me at the gates of the cemetery and away from the cortege.” Her voice hardened and she made a movement to brush the tears from her face. “And for this reason, if none other, I want to see him dead.”

  “I’m not surprised, ma’am. That’s one hell of a story.”

  “For five years I waited, surviving as best I could. And then I ran into Lowell Beckett. He bragged a little about his association with Wyatt and I saw an opportunity to get even, so I worked my way into his affections and took up with him and that’s how I brought myself into the company of the ‘Commander’ again. When his insane plan became evident, I secretly approached Governor George – he’d already received disturbing army reports about Wyatt’s activities. The Governor didn’t hesitate, he immediately seized on the opportunity my presence allowed and arranged our chain of contact. The rest you know.” She snuggled deeper into his shoulder and her closeness set his nerves tingling. “You’ll not think well of me now, Mr. Guardeen,” she murmured. “A fallen woman, using her body for such a mean thing as petty vengeance.”

  Swiftly he cupped her chin in his hand, tilted her face up and kissed her full on the lips.

  She welcomed his touch and draped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. They took their time, savoring the moment.

  Breathlessly, they finally parted.

  “You need a shave, sir.” She smiled up at him, her teeth a flash of light in the shadow.

  “Hell, lady, I already had the closest shave I’ve had in a long while.” He thumbed at the fort and chuckled.

  The sound of bridles clinking and horses snorting restlessly reached them.

  Swiftly, he let Christine go and moved into a prone position, the rifle stretched out over the ledge. With a predatory eye, he searched the courtyard.

  “You see anything?” Christine whispered.

  “Not yet but they’re making a move. Go wake Thaddeus, will you?”

  In a second, a slightly groggy Thaddeus was by his side. “Where we at here, Mister Nick?”

  “They’re saddling up. My guess is Wyatt’s clearing out until the rest of them have taken care of us. To my way of thinking, he won’t like the idea of us hovering around, cramping his style. Come daylight they’ll set the Apaches on us. I reckon those boys’ll track us down pronto, so we need to finish this and get
the hell out of here.”

  “How? We haven’t got a five acre mule between us.”

  “Here’s how it’ll go down, I reckon. Wyatt will make a run for it and lie low until we’re taken care of. He’ll light out surrounded by a platoon or so of his men to give him cover. What I want you to do, is go down there as close to the gates as you can get. I’m aiming to knock one or two of them down if I can’t get at Wyatt. If I can get to him, I will but, failing that, you grab a dropped man’s horse. Or two of them, if you can. Leastways, we’ll have a start on some transport.”

  “Why isn’t he just going to sit it out here? Like you say, those Indians will find us sure enough.”

  Guardeen patted his rifle. “He fears the long arm now. He’s a cautious man. Why risk his life when he can ride out of here and hide out while the Apache finish us off right quick?”

  “He won’t do that, Nick,” interposed Christine.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’ll be off to oversee that bullion raid. That’ll be his excuse for leaving. He can’t afford to appear to turn tail and run in front of his men so he’ll need a good reason for leaving.”

  “Well, I guess you know him better than us. And it makes sense. Okay, then the plan stays the same but if we don’t get him here, we’ll have to go get him at that other place, what was it? Placer City, right?”

  “It won’t be easy,” Thaddeus said. “We’ve got a fort full of Rebs and wild Indians down there; they’re not going to just let us just ride on out.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Guardeen said grimly. “I’ve got a notion of how to slow them down a mite. Just you make sure of a pony or two for us.”

  Thaddeus nodded. “I’d best make a move now.” Catching up his rifle, he made his way to the tied off lariat and was quickly down the chimney.

  “Now what?” Christine leaned forward eagerly, her eyes alive and alert.

  “Now,” Guardeen said, “we wait. Heck, you sure are pretty when you’re riled.” He gave her a slow smile.