Deadly Manhunt (A Tony Masero Western)

by Tony Masero

  Garrett had returned to his erstwhile demure self and was fully apologetic.

  ‘That’s alright, Pat,’ Jane called around the bedroom door. ‘You make yourself to home.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. It’s just Jack I need….’

  Slade bustled out of the bedroom, buckling his gun belt around his waist with his jacket thrown over his arm.

  ‘Hell,’ said Garrett. ‘I’m sorry, Jack.’

  Slade looked at him with a reproving arched eyebrow, ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  ‘I need a posse,’ explained Garrett as they left the room. ‘I want you to make up the numbers; Causter will have to wait. It won’t look good for me at the governor’s office if I don’t nail Billy and that bastard Charlie Bowdre. This whole business is making me look a fool.’

  ‘Well, don’t piss on me, Pat. I’m on your side remember.’

  ‘I know. It was just the heat of the moment. I’m all a-fired with this damned breakout.’

  They clattered downstairs in a hurry and out of the hotel. In front a party of men on horseback sat waiting patiently.

  ‘We’ve got ten men here, Jack. I want you to take five and cover the trail north towards the Capitan’s; I’ll head out south towards Glencoe. Billy took time getting his manacles off but he’s still got leg irons and he’s on foot, so he can’t have got far.’

  ‘As you say, Pat,’ Slade agreed.

  A deputy handed him the reins to his pony and Slade mounted up.

  ‘If you get that far, take care in those canyons up there,’ Garrett advised. ‘Lot of ambush country.’

  Slade nodded and slapping the reins down on his pony’s rump he led his small band of deputies at a gallop out of town.

  They arrived at the Rio Bonito riverbank, where Slade divided the men, getting three to cross over and ride the northern side upstream whilst he and the rest followed the southern. All of them were looking for sign in the soft verges of damp mud and scrub growth. They found the tracks six miles outside the town and the men on the northern bank confirmed that a man on foot had exited the river there. Studying the prints Slade could see the fellow was heading rapidly north in a hop-stepping way that indicated either hobbling leg irons or a man with an unfortunate limp. They followed the trail at a walking pace as the ground toughened up and the route was not so easy to follow once they left the river.

  ‘Spread out in a line, boys,’ Slade ordered. ‘In case he takes off at a tangent.’

  Five miles further the tracks were met with three pony trails. By the weight indentations it was apparent that two of the horses were ridden and one being led.

  ‘He’s got company,’ Slade observed.

  ‘Look here!’ called a deputy, holding up a broken length of chain and a cold chisel.

  The posse followed on fast now as it was apparent from the tracks that the trio were on a hard run north and soon they entered the ranges of the Capitan Mountains. They were quickly engulfed in low trees and brush that covered the slopes of a low-sided canyon. The canyon narrowed and a stream rushed down the center making the trail harder to follow as their quarry drove through the water.

  At last the canyon widened out and the leading deputy called back to Slade.

  ‘They’ve split. One of them is going on north, the two others have branched off up that way,’ he indicated the tree covered slopes off to their left.

  ‘We’ll have to split up ourselves then. Four of you go on after the one headed north, that’s probably the Kid. I’ll take one man and go after these two. Who’ll ride with me?’

  ‘I’m with you,’ said an older man in a buckskin shirt. He had the grizzled look of experience about him and Slade nodded approval.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Slade asked.

  ‘Damon Falls,’ said the old man. ‘I did some scouting with the military, Marshal. I’m good with the tracking.’

  ‘Fair enough, lets get on it then.’

  With a wave at the four other departing deputies they parted company and Slade followed the old man into the forested hillside.

  He had his own agenda going although he kept it himself, he guessed that it was Rio that had met up and released the Kid and he wanted to settle matters with him over and above the capture of Bonney despite Garrett’s wishes.

  They climbed higher through the trees and the undergrowth fell away until it was only pine that surrounded them. Above, through a break in the trees Slade could see outcrops of rock above and he quietly recommended that they dismount and go ahead on foot. Both men drew their rifles and leading the ponies moved cautiously up through the cover of the pine trees.

  ‘That’s a mighty fine point for an ambush above,’ Falls whispered warily, with a nod at the rocks.

  ‘I know it,’ agreed Slade. ‘Let’s move apart a-ways.’

  Sunlight flickered on their bodies as they separated and pressed on higher. The intervening timber made it difficult to find their way and keep an eye on each other and the overlooking rocks at the crest above. Then Slade smelt the smoke.

  He waved a raised rifle in Falls direction to call attention. The man who was moving fifty yards away through the trees did not see his motion and continued on. Then, Slade’s pony whickered softly and he pulled up the beast and placed a gentle hand across its nostrils. Falls noticed he had stopped moving and also came to a halt and Slade waved him over.

  ‘You smell it?’ he whispered.

  ‘I do,’ the old man agreed. ‘The ponies know it too.’

  ‘Best leave them here.’

  They tied off the two ponies and made their way up to the edge of the tree line. From there the rising tumble of boulders stood in a vertical heap, the gray rocks almost white in the bright sunlight. Slade searched the skyline until he found the wisps of smoke that indicated the placement of the fire, pointing direction with his rifle barrel they both moved over to approach the spot below on the rock face. Angling between the rocks Slade and Falls carefully worked their way up until they made it to the rim.

  Slade peered down and saw that the boulders fell away in a ragged tumble before him and then into a shallow and rock strewn flat-bottomed bowl. Upon the flat base, which was bare of vegetation, stood an old cabin. It was a shabby weather-beaten affair that had seen better days. The pine logs were rotten and eaten away with an old bark tiled roof that had fallen in at odd places. The smoke was coming from an ancient rusting tin chimney set in the roof. Two saddled horses stood hobbled outside the sagging wooden door.

  ‘How d’you want to do this?’ asked Falls.

  ‘We have to go down there, I guess.’

  ‘Best to be on a window-less side if there is one.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ Slade agreed, leaning his shoulder against a head-high boulder. ‘You want to angle around and take a looksee? I’ll cover you from here?’

  With a nod, Falls snaked off and Slade was glad to see that the man’s age did not seem to deter him from moving sinuously across the rough terrain. Once Falls had safely reached a point beyond the corner of the cabin he turned and with a grin gave an affirmative wave to Slade. As he lifted his arm, Slade saw a dark shape rise from the rocks behind the man.

  It was Ben Raymonds with a leveled double-barreled shotgun in his hands.

  Falls face changed as he saw Slade’s expression and he was beginning to turn when Raymonds blasted him. The front of Falls buckskin shirt exploded in a gory plume as both barrels took him in the low back at close range. Falls spun forward, arms outstretched with his bloody guts falling down his front and onto his knees. As he dropped he gave Slade a clear shot at Raymonds standing behind him.

  Slade fired from the waist, cranking and loosing off three shots that caught the gunman in a ragged pattern that spattered puffs of dust as the slugs hit his shirtfront. Raymonds twisted, his torso jerking as each slug slammed into him; his face took on a picture of shock and surprise that quickly glazed over as he flopped down in a lifeless tumble amongst the rocks.

  Slade eased another shell int
o the chamber of the Winchester and was about to turn and face the cabin again when there was a crack of sound as a bullet winged past his head. He heard the humming shell shatter against the rock behind and whirr away in ricochet.

  It came from behind and above and he spun around, still at the crouch.

  Rio was up at the rocky rim. The two gunmen had both been waiting, hiding amongst the rocks until they had a clear shot at the two deputies.

  Slade dived for cover as another rifle shot screamed off the stones at his feet. Rio was anxious. Excited and his aim was off as a result. Slade slammed into stones as he fell and hardly noticed the pain as he escaped the shot. He scrabbled around giving himself cover behind the rising mounds of rock on the boulder-strewn slope.

  ‘Got you now, Deputy!’ Rio hollered, confident of his position on the high ground. ‘Going to finish you for sure this time.’

  Slade listened carefully to the tone of voice and recognized the nervous and feverish note. It gave him a sense of assuredness. The man was being weakened by his fiery bravado when a cool head was most needed.

  Rio was firing with more measured intent though and his repeated shots kept Slade from spying around the rocks and spotting a quick return. He lay as flat as he could, scrabbling amongst the loose stones under his body to try and sink deeper into the ground.

  Rifle bullets screamed off the protective rock in front of his face, spattering chips and gritty fragments over him. The rifle slugs plugged the ground explosively beside his exposed legs and Slade’s balls contracted at the nearness of the hot lead. He knew he must wait though and patiently suffer the fusillade until Rio needed to reload. He counted off the shots as they came and as the final fifteenth winged its way towards him, he rose from cover.

  Marching up the slope, he began his own course of shooting. He could not see much of his hidden opponent but there was enough to bring his aim to bear. Half way up the hillside, Slade paused and waited, the Winchester set in tight to his shoulder with the sight pin set on the brim-edge of Rio’s hat which was all that was showing from behind his hiding place.

  Rio rose up, sure that Slade had fired all of his reserve and his Winchester was empty. He saw the lawman standing clear in front of him the rifle leveled in his direction. He swung up his own Winchester, a scream forming on his lips as Slade fired.

  Rio continued his scream but this time in pain as Slade’s lead ripped through his arm and spun the Winchester from his grasp. He whirled around, turning half circle under the force of the bullet’s impact and still crying out repeatedly fell with his back to the rock behind which he had sheltered.

  Slade drew his Colt and raced up the rest of the slope weaving his way between the rocks until he stood over the gunman, his pistol pointing in Rio’s face.

  ‘Now, who’s got who, Rio?’ he asked with a bitter twist to his lips.

  ‘I’m hurt bad,’ cried Rio, peeking beneath his hand where it clasped the bloody wound under the torn sleeve of his jacket. ‘Look here,’ he said. ‘You’ve near ripped my damned arm off.’

  ‘I’ll rip your damned head off you don’t give me answer real quick,’ Slade spat.

  ‘What? What is it? I need some help here afore I bleed to death.’

  ‘The surveyor’s plans. Where are they?’

  Rio sobbed in anguish, ‘What blasted plans? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You got them from Caulfield didn’t you?’

  ‘No, I told you before, I never got anything from him. I swear it. Okay?’

  Slade set aside his Winchester and squatted down, his pistol still pointing at the gunman. ‘We’ll wait a while and see if you change your mind on that score,’ he threatened coldly.

  ‘I’m showing bone here,’ screamed Rio, lifting blood soaked cloth and peering at his arm. ‘You can’t leave me this way.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘I already told you, man. I never had nothing given me by Caulfield.’ Rio was starting to sob now, tears falling down his cheek as he sighed and whimpered. ‘Have pity, Slade,’ he begged.

  ‘What about that old boy back there that your friend just cut down? You don’t give him a thought do you? Nice old fella he was and you couldn’t give a cuss about him, could you? Why the hell should I give a moment of concern for you?’

  ‘Because I’m hurting,’ whined Rio. ‘I’m dying.’

  ‘You ain’t dying, asshole. You just lost a chunk of arm, is all.”

  ‘But I never shot the old man. It was Ben that did that.’

  ‘You got that string necktie,’ teased Slade mercilessly. ‘Make a sling, tie off the arm at your neck, then it won’t drop off as we head back to Lincoln.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ cried Rio in panic. ‘I don’t want to lose my arm.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn whether you do or don’t. Remember how you and your boys beat on me, you remember that?’

  ‘We was told to,’ muttered Rio.

  ‘Who did that?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘He did. What kind of dumb answer is that? Who’s he?’

  ‘I don’t know who he is. Railroad agent, that’s all I know. We never saw his face, he always came in the dark and wore a mask.’

  ‘So what? He told you to get rid of me, then what?’

  ‘Look,’ sighed Rio, helplessly. ‘It happened like this. He fronted me one night, offering money. Saying he needed help from the local sheriff’s office, that he was a regular railroad agent and wanted some deputies to aid him. Could we oblige? With the money he was offering even you would have obliged him, Slade.’

  ‘That I doubt,’ sneered Slade.

  ‘Leastways, he said he wanted something the Colonel had. I guess it was these blasted papers you keep on about. Then when you came asking questions and getting interested he wanted you kept quiet. When that didn’t work out like it should have he told us to light out and join up with Billy and see if we could interest him in joining up to help him out. I think he has some plan to put pressure on folks to sell up their property or some such. Anyway, Billy and his boys have too much on their plate just now with Garrett on their tail so it amounted to nothing.’

  ‘But you got Billy free.’

  ‘We did. It seemed politic when we heard he busted out.’

  ‘So where is he now?’

  ‘Said he was heading up to Jim Greathouse’s Tavern at Las Tablas, seems he’s got friends up there.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Slade getting up, satisfied that Rio had told him all he knew. ‘Loose your sidearm. We’re heading back to Lincoln and the County jail.’

  Rio looked at him plaintively, ‘That’s hours away. It’s too far, I’ll die on the way if I don’t get treatment.’

  ‘Then you’ll die,’ said Slade indifferently.

  ‘You’re one cold son-of-a-bitch, Slade,’ growled Rio.

  ‘When I deal with your sort, that’s the only way to be. Now get up and walk unless you want to bleed out right here.’

  Cursing and pale-faced, Rio obediently climbed groggily to his feet.

  Chapter Twelve

  Peter was up and about when Slade returned to the hotel after dropping off Rio at the jail.

  Sheriff Smith had returned to a browbeating from Garrett after the Kid’s escape and duly humbled he rushed to appease Slade and fetch a doctor for the wounded ex-deputy. Slade learnt then that Garrett was still out on the hunt after hearing that the posse out at Jim Greatehouse’s place had come close to capturing the Kid but after losing a man in the confrontation had withdrawn and the Kid had escaped once more.

  Up in their hotel rooms, Slade sat and watched Peter at play with some tin soldiers Jane had picked up for him. She sat on the arm of his chair and her hand was in his, the two of them amicably silent as the child waged war on the carpeted floor before them.

  As he looked at the boy, Slade considered the run of events and tried to figure out where Caulfield would have kept the plans, if indeed he had ever had them. His thoughts were interru
pted as Jane reached over and stroked his cheek.

  ‘Where are you at now, Jack?’ she asked.

  Slade drew a breath as he came back into her presence, ‘Sorry, honey. I was off considering where this case was going.’

  ‘Always working, huh?’

  He looked at her and smiled, ‘Beats drinking, no?’

  She nodded solemnly, ‘That’s a fact.’

  ‘What are we going to do about Petey?’ Slade asked. ‘His Pa’s gone and word is he don’t have no relatives around. I don’t reckon I can leave him in some foundlings home.’

  ‘You’d best not,’ she said forcibly. ‘I’ve grown real attached to that little one.’

  ‘Hey!’ he laughed. ‘You’re not going all maternal on me, are you?’

  ‘Why not?’ she said, suddenly serious-faced. ‘You stay with me, you’d better get used to it.’

  ‘Oho! Is that a warning?’

  ‘Sure is, buster. I want a home, a real home and some little ones to fill it….’ Her voice broke in mid-sentence and Slade looked at her in sudden concern.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Something I ain’t told you about me, Jack. Something you should know.’

  He waited silently for her to go on, a frown deepening his brow as her hand holding his squeezed hard, almost desperately he thought.

  ‘We can’t have none of our own. I’m sorry, Jack. That’s why I won’t have no truck with the drinking. It was someone I once knew in the past. A long while back when I was no more than a kid. He was a drunk, plain and simple and I was too young to know different. I thought I could love him despite all of that. When he was sober he was sweet as pie but when the liquor took him he went kind of crazy. Only thing was he took it out on me when he raged. I got beat up real vicious one time, my insides was tore up and I can’t have kids no more.’

  ‘That’s too bad,’ Slade said quietly.

  ‘After I got out of hospital I felt wretched and they had me down as a wanton in there anyway. Like it was all my own fault I got beaten to near death. It’s why I took off and became a nighttime gal. I felt rotten and of no use to any man, it seemed all that was left for me was to lay it out for anybody willing to leave a dollar or two on the bedside table.’ She drew a ragged breath and watched his stony expression closely before lowering her gaze as her eyes filled. ‘I know it ain’t what you expected, Jack. Me being so tainted and then barren into the bargain. It don’t give you much of a prospect at all and I guess I’ll understand if you want to call it quits but I’d like to keep Petey close, if that’s all right?’