Deadly Manhunt (A Tony Masero Western)

by Tony Masero

  Garrett took the offered coffee and shook his head, ‘It ain’t my call, ma’am. Your man’s got one hard head and I reckon he’ll go his own way.’

  ‘Damned right there,’ mumbled Slade from under his shirt.

  ‘What?’ bitched Jane. ‘Don’t my word count for anything now, Jack Slade?’

  Slade jerked his head out through the top of the shirt with a grunt of pain and looked at her. ‘I love you dear, darlin’,’ he said. ‘But this is my job and I have to get her done.’

  She nodded and bit back more with compressed lips. ‘What do you want me to do then?’ she asked, as she handed him his mug.

  ‘I reckon it would be swell if you got out of this dump and moved over to my rooms in the hotel. I’ll be back soon enough and we can get set up proper over there when I do. Then I want to see this floozy, Lucy Blazer.’

  ‘Alright,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll arrange it. But you take care, you hear me?’

  Slade smiled, his face a sad picture of yellowish-purple bruises that turned the smile into a grimace.

  ‘Don’t worry, I will.’ He glanced across at Garrett. ‘Don’t she beat all?’ he said. ‘Prettiest thing I ever did see.’

  ‘She sure is a picture alright,’ Garrett agreed.

  Jane looked away coyly, ‘Give it a rest, you two. I look like nothing of the kind. I’ve been playing nurse so long in here I’ve seen saguaro cactus that looked better.’

  ‘Not to me, honey,’ mused Slade winningly, as he buckled on his gun belt.

  ‘Shit!’ she mumbled. ‘I’m out of here before I start vomiting, I’ll see you two later’. With that she slid from the room, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Looks like you’ve got it bad, partner,’ laughed Garrett.

  ‘I have, Pat. I swear its true. I wouldn’t be a day without that creature now and that’s the truth.’

  ‘Well, luck to you both. That’s what I say. Family’s the best I believe, I sure wouldn’t be without mine.’

  ‘How’s the building going?’ Slade asked, sipping his coffee.

  ‘Good. The place at Roswell is getting there and the Little Creek ranch is just fine. I plan on filling them both with kids real soon.’

  Slade snorted a laugh, ‘That’s the easy part, it’s what comes after that ain’t so easy.’

  ‘How the hell would you know? You ain’t got any kids, have you?’

  Slade’s face fell and he looked away. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘At least not so you’d notice.’

  Garrett frowned wondering what sort of can of worms he had opened just then. ‘Still,’ he said quickly, to cover the moment. ‘You got a fine old girl there and it ain’t too late to start.’

  Slade nodded abstractedly and stood up, stamping his feet down into his boots. ‘Let’s ride,’ he said.

  They reached the Freshwater Ranch at mid-morning and Garrett ordered the posse to spread out and surround the place.

  ‘You see that?’ Slade observed as they slid into cover behind some rocks on the approach. He nodded his head over to the corral, where Causter’s vaqueros were saddling up five mounts.

  Garrett nodded, ‘They could be in there alright.’

  ‘Might be a woman and child inside with them,’ said Slade, remembering the boy Joey.

  ‘I’ll call them out first and give fair warning,’ he said.

  Garrett glanced at his watch and estimated that the rest of his posse had successfully covered the back of the ranch house then he hollered loudly.

  ‘Hello the house! This is the law, if you’re in there Billy boy, or whatever name you’re travelling under now, best come out. We have the place covered.’

  There was silence from the house and at the call the vaqueros hurried away, running for cover as fast as they could.

  ‘That you, Pat Garrett?’ came an answering shout from the ranch.

  ‘It is,’ Garrett replied. ‘Lay down your arms and come out with hands high if you want to live.’

  ‘Aw, Pat,’ the Kid answered cheerfully. ‘Can’t you give a body rest? You’ve been on my tail too long already.’

  ‘Just do like I say, Billy, and come out easy.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ said the Kid. ‘I ain’t had no breakfast yet and Mrs. Causter has it cooking on the stove.’

  ‘You can tell the lady, that is if you intend to make a fight of it she and the lad can come out now. We have no intention of harming her.’

  ‘Fair enough, Marshal. I’ll let her know.’

  ‘Be advised, Billy. I’ve got eight good men out here with me. We have you outnumbered, best give her up now.’

  ‘You can go to hell, Pat. We’re just fine in here. It’s cool and breakfast is coming, I bet the morning’s warming up out there just now and maybe you boys can smell the coffee brewing. You want a cup, Pat?’

  Garrett smiled, ‘No thanks, Billy. I had mine earlier but you’re welcome to join us anytime and we’ll set you up out here.’

  ‘I could sure go some breakfast,’ a rifle-bearing deputy positioned next to Slade observed quietly. ‘Ain’t had time for a bite of anything this morning.’

  ‘You could always go down there and get your fill,’ advised Slade ruefully.

  ‘Maybe later,’ the deputy answered, his face white and tense despite his show of indifference.

  ‘Mr. and Mrs. Causter and Joey are coming out, Pat. They have no part in this,’ the Kid called.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Garrett answered. ‘You boys hold your fire,’ he hollered loudly to the posse.

  The door opened and with hands raised Solon Causter and his family scurried out and were hurried into cover by a few of the posse.

  ‘Last chance, Billy,’ Garrett hailed the house.

  In answer a window glass was smashed and a pistol shot rang out across the clearing in front of the ranch.

  ‘Let them have it!’ Garrett roared and a hail of firing followed his words. Rifle and shotgun fire pounded into the walls, door and windows of the ranch and Slade heard Mrs. Causter offer a wail of dismay at the destruction. The front of the building erupted in bullet holes and chewed splinters of wood flew into the clouds of smoke flying across the clearing.

  In the gaps whilst the posse reloaded, return fire came from inside and the boulders around Garrett and Slade spat chips as slugs peppered the stone.

  The man beside Slade, a deputized half-Mexican blacksmith named James Hernandez, hunkered down, teeth gritted against the onslaught. ‘Man, those old boys sure aren’t about to give it up without a fight,’ he affirmed.

  The battle continued for another hour with no show of either side desisting until finally the blacksmith said to Garrett, ‘You mind if I start a fire going and get some bacon frying, Marshal. My belly is flapping against my backbone I’m so hungry.’

  Garrett was reloading his pistol and looked across at the man, ‘Sure,’ he shrugged. ‘Guess we could all do with some coffee. Don’t see why Billy and his boys should have all the comforts, and it looks like we’ll be here a while.’

  Hernandez scurried off to find some dry firewood and Slade took the opportunity of the lull in shooting to call out. ‘You in there Rio Palmer?’

  There was some angry shouting from inside then Rio answered. “I’m here Deputy. How’d you like that beating you got? Bet that dented your style some.’ He laughed then, a coarse loud roar that was meant to insult.

  ‘Laugh all you want,’ Slade called back. ‘I’ll see you down before this day is done.’

  ‘Come get me, asshole,’ Rio retorted wildly.

  ‘You’ll be out and I’ll be waiting,’ Slade replied.

  Solon Causter arrived at the crouch and slid to a halt beside the Marshal. ‘Mister Garrett,’ he gasped. ‘I pray you don’t believe I have anything to do with the Kid and his gang. It’s my damned wife who favors him.’

  ‘It’s harboring a criminal, Mister Causter,’ replied Garrett, still slipping cartridges into his gun.

  ‘She’s a pain, sir. I admit it. The woman can’t let a stray dog
go by without feeding it. She don’t mean no more harm than that. I told her a million times not to, but well…. you know how they can be sometimes. Don’t pay a man heed no matter what.’

  That brought a smile to Garrett’s face and he ran the barrel of his pistol along the line of his mustache. ‘Having a wife of my own I’m with you there, sir. I know it full well. But don’t worry, I’m just glad to have the outlaw bottled up and I fancy you’ll have enough to do repairing your house once we’re done.’

  ‘I’m obliged to you, Marshal.’

  Hernandez had found wood and had a small fire going. He had brought over coffee, a pan and a side of bacon from their supplies and was busily cooking behind the safety of a large boulder.

  ‘Sure smells good, Mister Hernandez,’ Garrett praised. ‘Reckon we could all do with a portion of that.’

  The front door of the ranch flew open and a figure in a long slicker vaulted out, making for the corral.

  ‘One away!’ Slade called out, aiming a shot at the fleeing figure.

  Intermittent shooting from the posse followed the running man and the ground around his feet flew up in a spattering of dust. He made it to the pine-trunk bars of the corral and was on his way over when a shotgun blast caught him. The long coat flew up, the material shredding in a spray of blood as the shot struck the man and he was catapulted forward by the blast and tumbled over the bars to fall amongst the skittering hoofs of the frightened ponies.

  ‘How many in there, Mister Causter?’ Garrett asked.

  ‘There were five of them,’ the rancher answered. ‘They wanted fresh mounts. There was nothing I could do. If I had said no, they would have taken them anyway.’

  ‘Well, there’s four now,’ said Slade, looking at the still body in the corral. ‘You know who he was, Pat?’

  Garrett peeked over the top of the boulder and shook his head, ‘No idea. One of Billy’s loose crew I guess, there’s all sorts riding with him now.’

  ‘Well, it’ll be the Kid and those deputies now,’ said Slade grimly. ‘And I don’t mind which of them I nail.’

  ‘Why don’t you cut around to that side of the corral?’ Garrett advised. ‘They might try something like that again.’

  ‘Could be,’ said Slade, beginning to snake his way off around the perimeter to come in on the other side of the corral.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Hernandez. ‘Before you go have a sup of hot coffee.’

  The blacksmith rose from his haunches and leant over to offer Slade the mug. There was a single shot from the house and the top of the deputy’s head flew up in the air. His hat and a handful of hair jumped skywards before the man dropped, face down in the dust.

  There was a hearty laugh and then the Kid’s voice came from the ranch house. ‘That even things up a bit, Marshal?’

  ‘Good Lord!’ cried Causter, looking at the seeping mess running from the fallen blacksmith. ‘They broke his poor head apart.’

  Grimly, Garrett waved Slade on and went over and picked up the dropped tin mug. He brushed it against his pant’s leg and poured a fresh cup, then looked at Causter with a shrug. ‘Can’t waste good coffee, can we, sir? You want a slice of bacon? It looks good.’

  Causter blanched as his eye ran from the spilled brains to the bacon coiling in oil on the pan. ‘Think I’ll pass,’ he croaked.

  Slade ran where he could and crawled where he couldn’t until he had circumnavigated the front of the ranch house and came up on the blind side behind the corral. It wasn’t the best view with the ponies milling around inside but if anyone tried to escape he was well placed to stop them.

  Shots were fired now and again from the posse with a regular answering fusillade coming from the house. The front of the building looked a mess, with weathered wood and adobe split and holed by the continuous firing. Windows were smashed and even the roof tiles were hit and cascading in an irregular stream from the edge of the roof. Suddenly, with a roar of wild shouting the front door flew open and with guns blazing the three deputies ran out with Tole Defford in the lead. They ran fast towards the corral and the waiting ponies.

  Slade was waiting but was hampered by the movement of the horses. He climbed the corral posts for a better view and swung his leg over, dropping down into the disturbed dust. Crouching, Slade saw the running shapes looming towards him. He snap-aimed and fired, sure that he hit the leading Tole Defford but the big man kept coming.

  Defford was howling now, screaming in rage and pain as he barreled across the corral making straight for Slade. Shooting was coming from Garrett and the rest of the posse and Slade was worried that a random shot might hit him as well as the others and he dropped down flat to avoid any stray bullets.

  Lying on his belly, Slade aimed up again at the oncoming Defford. He loosed off two more shots and was gratified to see the bullish figure twist as the slugs hit. Unbelievably though, with three bullets in him Defford kept coming as his companions caught hold of a couple of ponies and mounted up.

  Bullets were cracking through the air and slices of pine pole shattering under the flying lead as Defford tottered the last few paces towards Slade. In desperation, Slade aimed directly upwards and caught the man with a slug that entered under the chin, penetrated the roof of his mouth and scrambled the brain inside. That finally did it for Defford and with a gurgling sob he flopped down falling heavily across Slade’s prone body.

  Slade had the breath knocked from him by the gunman’s hefty weight and he sighed in pain as his already beaten back was crushed.

  ‘Be seeing you, Deputy,’ he heard Rio call as he and Ben Raymond pushed aside the corral gate and made it safely away followed by a hail of bullets from the posse.

  Slade heaved the dead man from him and lumbered to his feet. He could see that his position was hidden from the house front by the angle at which the corral lay alongside the ranch. He loped across, backtracking along the way the fleeing deputies had come.

  Shots were being exchanged between the Kid and the posse when Slade reached the corner of the house. He signaled to Garrett to hold his fire and crouching down low, Slade crept up to the nearest window.

  Garret got the idea and calling for a ceasefire he tried to engage the Kid in conversation so that Slade would know where he was placed inside the building.

  ‘You ready to call it a day yet, Billy?’ he called.

  ‘Boy, but that coffee sure smells good you got out there,’ the Kid answered. ‘You went and blew Mrs. Causter’s pot to pieces in here even before we had a taste.’

  ‘Offer still holds, Billy. You’re welcome to join us.’

  ‘Aw, don’t you tease a poor hungry man so, Pat.’

  Slade had him placed now and knew the Kid was at the far window and he raised himself up and peeked over the edge of the broken window frame. He saw the Kid peering around the crack of the open door, a rifle in his hand. Slade swiftly leant over the edge of the frame and aimed at him.

  ‘Drop it right quick, Billy! Or I’ll let you have it,’ he shouted.

  The Kid froze rigid for a moment, knowing full well that Slade had the drop on him and then he let the rifle slide from his grasp.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, raising his hands in the air and grinning. ‘Reckon I’ll take you up on that offer for a bite after all.’

  He wasn’t a tall man, a young fellow of average height wearing a Mexican sombrero, Slade could see. His buck toothed grin flashed in a ready smile as he turned to face Slade. ‘You got me there,’ he admitted. ‘I thought they’d nailed you in the corral.’

  ‘Not hardly,’ said Slade before calling out, ‘Come on in, Pat. Billy here has called it quits.’

  When they had the dead blacksmith’s manacles padlocked on the Kid’s wrists, they all hunkered down to enjoy their late breakfast and the bacon, sourdough bread and coffee were shared out with the Kid who hungrily devoured his portion.

  Mrs. Causter scurried over to her shattered house and muttering accusingly took out a broom and began busily to sweep out the broken gl
ass and destroyed chinaware from inside. Causter stood numbly by staring at the destruction until he went off to see if his vaqueros were safe and the boy Joey, left on his own eventually wandered over when he recognized Slade.

  ‘Howdy, Deputy,’ he said as he came up on Slade, who was sitting on a pile of stones enjoying a mug of coffee.

  ‘Joey,’ Slade said in greeting. ‘You alright?’

  ‘I am,’ the boy answered.

  ‘Heck of fight there,’ Slade allowed.

  ‘Sure was,’ Joey agreed vaguely. He paused a moment as if building up the courage to say something. ‘You had any luck finding that Colonel’s son?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Slade. ‘You seen anything that might help?’

  The boy chewed his lip a moment. ‘Might have,’ he mumbled.

  Slade looked up sharply, ‘What do you know, boy?’

  ‘He’s scared,’ Joey admitted. ‘Real scared.’

  ‘He’s alive?’

  Joey nodded.

  ‘And you know where he is?’

  The boy nodded again. ‘I’ve been caring for him. He’s alright but I couldn’t get him to come out. He saw his Pa get shot down and that frightened the pants off him. He’s right a-feared that the killing man will come after him now.’

  Slade got to his feet and sluiced aside the unfinished coffee from his mug, ‘What man?’ he asked.

  Joey shook his head, ‘I don’t know. He says the fellow wore a mask.’

  ‘Where is he? You’d best take me.’

  ‘I’ll have to go ask my Ma, it’s a ways off.’

  ‘Go do it, Joey. I need to bring that boy in safe.’

  Slouching, Joey went off to ask permission and Slade crossed to Garrett who was making arrangements to take the dead blacksmith and the Kid back to Lincoln.

  ‘The Causter boy knows where Peter Friday is,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘What?’ Garret gasped. ‘The kid’s still alive?’

  ‘So he says. He’s been caring for the lad but the boy’s terrified, afraid whoever killed his Pa will come after him.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’ asked Garrett.

  ‘I don’t know, Joey’s going to show me.’