The Devil's Staircase

by Randy D. Smith

  Rodriquez lifted a meat cleaver from his butcher block and walked toward Patch from behind.

  "Hold on now, amigos!" Patch said as he started to back his stool away from the table. "I weren’t looking for no trouble."

  "I think it is odd that an Anglo would come asking so many questions. I think you know more than you act like," Garcia growled menacingly.

  Rodriquez raised the cleaver to split Patch’s skull from behind.

  Ransom shot Rodriquez in the back from the window. The ball burst through his chest, scattering blood and gore across the table. Garcia shifted his pistol toward the window and prepared to take aim. Patch drew his Bowie and threw it into Garcia’s chest. Garcia shifted the pistol and fired wildly, the bullet tearing into the table in front of Patch. Patch drew his pistol but did not fire as Garcia fell dead to the floor.

  Patch watched Garcia for a moment to see if he was moving then turned around to study Rodriquez on the floor. He wiped Rodriquez’s blood and bits of flesh from his neck and examined his hand. "Damn, that big pistol scattered pieces of that fellow all over the room."

  Ransom entered through the door with the other North drawn. He watched the girl and motioned her out the door. "That fellow in the corner is one of Rafael’s men. They must have left him here because of the leg wound."

  "Probably watching for you, I reckon. These beans are pretty good. You want some."

  Ransom walked to Garcia, rolled him on his back with his foot and retrieved his pistols. "I could eat."

  "I’ll get some clean plates and we’ll eat some before riding on."

  Ransom nodded and pulled Patch’s Bowie from Garcia’s chest. "That’s good knife throwing. How you get anything this big to fly like that?"

  "Old Jim Bowie carried one just like it. It ain’t as fancy as the ones they make now what with the fancy curved points and brass guards. No, this old meat cleaver is just like Bowie’s original. I saw his once in Bejar while Jim was getting drunk there. I had a Mexican fellow copy it. I been carrying it ever since. It’s saved my bacon almost as many times as you have." He hesitated. "Thanks, Jack. You didn’t need to do that, what with the way I done you."

  Ransom turned to face Patch. "I ain’t ever done you false, Patch. But you need to know that when this thing is over, we’re quits."

  Patch dipped the beans and shoved a plate to Ransom. "If that’s all there is to it, I’m mighty relieved. I figured I’d have to kill you…or you me."

  Jack stacked the pistols on the table, took a bite and grinned. "Shit, Patch, you’re the only friend I got, even if you are a double-crossing, two-timing, back-shooting, piece of shit. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around."

  Patch nodded, took a bite, then hesitated as he thought it over. "I guess I can take some comfort in that…I think."

  Jack nodded and poured himself a mescal.

  Chapter 20

  Turrubiates held up his mount as they crossed a bald ridge following the Rio Grande Canyon. The canyon walls were too steep to climb but the ridge allowed him to see nearly a mile down the back trail. He pointed and shouted. "Rafael, look to the north. Two riders approach. They ride like they are pursuing us."

  Rafael turned his mount and joined Turrubiates. He squinted as he tried to make out the riders. "Who the hell can they be? It ain’t Gomez is it?"

  Turrubiates shook his head. "Gomez cannot ride like that. His wound is too serious. Do you suppose it is Diablo?"

  "Diablo? No, it can’t be." He strained to focus then smiled wickedly. "Madre de Dios, it is Diablo. I have never seen such a man. Perhaps we should call him El Gato. But who is the other?"

  "Perhaps we were wrong about the man we killed in the canyon. Perhaps this is the rifleman from the rocks above."

  "Perhaps. But the one is Diablo. Amigos! It is time to settle this thing once and for all. Check your weapons. We have a fight with the devil to prepare for."

  The men swung their mounts around and checked the loads in their carbines and pistols.

  "How do we do this?" Turrubiates asked. "Do we ambush them?"

  "No, mi amigo, no. Diablo will smell an ambush. It is time to settle this thing. I am sick of this Tejano chasing me. For three years I have lived in his shadow. No. We are six and they are two. We will run them down and kill them once and for all."

  The riders formed a front and slowly rode down the ridge. They held up at the edge of an open plain and waited silently.

  Ransom and Patch held up their mounts when they saw the line of men at the far end of the plain.

  "I count six," Patch said. "They outnumber us three to one. Just like old times huh, Jacky?"

  Ransom smiled and nodded as he drew each of five pistols from his belt and checked the loads. "I think we should work our way from the outside in. You from the left."

  "We could try running for cover, Jack. There ain’t nothing wrong with running for cover and then shooting it out."

  "We could. I guess I’d rather do it straight up from the back of a horse, Texas style."

  "I’d rather sit in the shade and hope they die of typhoid."

  "Sounds reasonable. But I doubt they’ll go for that."

  "Which one’s got the money?"

  "Rafael. He’s the one in the stripped poncho in the center."

  "Well, what about it Jack? Do I get the money or not? I ain’t riding into this without some incentive."

  Ransom looked at him with a hard expression. "Patch, you can have every red peso. The fortune is yours. All I want is that bastard in the dirt."

  "You ain’t shitting me. I mean, I’ll probably get my ass shot off but I would like to know that I went down for a purpose."

  "You have my word."

  Patch nodded nervously and stared at his carbine. "Shit, I wish I had loaded this thing with shot."

  "Remember what you learned with Hays. Don’t shoot until you’re close enough to spit on them. Make those shots count."

  "Hell, that was against Comanche arrows and spears. Those hombres are as well armed as we are."

  "Yeah, but they ain’t mounted fighters. I ain’t seen a Mexican yet that can stand up to a straight up horse fight. They’ll get nervous, fire early and most of them will miss."

  "If I remember right, that’s what Hays told me at Pinto Trace, just before I lost my eye and the end of my long finger."

  "You still got your hair, don’t ya?"

  Patch adjusted his carbine across his lap. "I guess I can tough it out one more time. I sure wish I had screwed me a fat German gal. I was looking forward to that."

  Jack dug in his heels and urged his mule forward. "Keep your mind on your business. Maybe you’ll get that gal after all."

  Patch brought his horse alongside Ransom. They went into a trot.

  Rafael watched and nodded. "They have accepted the challenge. Concentrate on the thin man on the left. I want him dead. He is the one to worry about."

  The men drew their pistols and carbines. They broke into a trot at Rafael's lead.

  Ransom went into a gallop without drawing his pistols. They closed to within fifty yards and Ransom went low in the saddle and put his mule into a full run. Patch stayed right with him.

  Raphael and his men put their horses into a run immediately and just as Ransom predicted, began firing their guns.

  Ransom’s mule flinched as a ball struck its neck. Another ball cut fabric on his shirt at the shoulder. He bent lower and crowded the neck of his mule like a Comanche.

  Rafael drew up his horse and took careful aim on the mule. He steadied his pistol as best he could as the horse jumped to join the others and fired.

  Blood spewed from the mule’s left shoulder but the animal did not break stride.

  Patch drew up his carbine and rolled a Munyoz brother over the back of his saddle. He let the carbine drop to the ground and drew a pistol.

  The second Munyoz brother fired his remaining pistol round and cursed at the complete miss of Patch.

  Turrubiates with empty gun
s, swung away toward the river.

  Madron cursed in frustration and charged his horse headlong toward Patch. He fired into the horse’s chest at a few feet. Patch’s horse squealed and staggered before collapsing headlong into the ground. Patch lost his pistol as he slammed into the dirt.

  At the last instant, Ransom straightened and drew his heavy North pistols. He killed Madron with one shot and the third Munyoz as he passed beside him.

  The second Munyoz swung his horse around to pursue Ransom.

  Ransom turned in his saddle, drew his third pistol and placed a ball in Munyoz’s groin. Munyoz slumped in the saddle and dropped his gun.

  Rafael cursed as he watched Ransom’s bloody mount break through the line and press toward him. He drew his second pistol and waited as he held his horse steady.

  Ransom saw him and went low in the saddle an unfired pistol in his left hand and the fifth still in his belt.

  Rafael fired and the ball struck the mule in the neck. Ransom fired and a ball hit Rafael’s horse in the side. Rafael cursed and turned his horse to retreat.

  Ransom looked back over his shoulder toward Patch.

  Patch staggered to his feet steadying his broken left shoulder with his right hand. "Go on, Gott damn it! Kill that son-of-a-bitch!"

  Ransom could not hear what he yelled but knew he was all right enough to be mad. He nodded and dug his heels into the mule’s flanks.

  Turrubiates finished reloading his pistols from the back of his horse. He watched Rafael riding over the ridge with Ransom on his trail. He decided to finish off Patch if he could. He spurred his horse and charged.

  Patch watched Turrubiates’ charge. He painfully fumbled his pistol from his belt and fired.

  Turrubiates’ horse turned sideways and went down. Turrubiates jumped to his feet and picked up his pistols.

  Patch threw down his pistol and drew his knife. "Gott damn it! Come and get some!" He ran headlong towards Turrubiates.

  Turrubiates fired and a ball ripped through Patch’s left side. He raised his second pistol as Patch closed to within five feet.

  Patch saw the pistol raise and heaved the Bowie with all his strength. The big knife lodged deeply in Turrubiates’ right shoulder causing him to drop the pistol. Patch dove headlong for the pistol. Turrubiates dove for it at the same instant.

  They grappled for the pistol with their free hands, each unable to use the other. Turrubiates grabbed the pistol away and grinned. Patch hesitated before kicking him in the groin. Turrubiates gasped and staggered. Patch reached for his Bowie, drew it from Turrubiates’ shoulder and plunged it into his chest. Turrubiates staggered backward.

  Patch stared wide-eyed and gasped. "Well, gott damn it, die!" He snatched the pistol and fired it into Turrubiates’ chest.

  Turrubiates staggered forward and grabbed Patch by the left shoulder, drawing him closer. Then he lost his strength, gasped, and dropped to his knees.

  Patch staggered back and watched the big Mexican slip to the ground. He lost his balance and fell to his butt in the dirt. He sat for several moments trying to catch his breath, control the pain and keep his broken shoulder steady. He nervously laughed and stared through frightened wide eyes to see if any of the others were stirring. Munyoz slipped from his horse and lay in the dirt, unable to move.

  At last, Patch realized he was safe and laughed again. "Damn, that was close!" he said. He examined his side. The ball had traveled in the front and out the back. The wound was bleeding heavily but he didn’t think it was serious. He relaxed and decided that he needed to rest a while. Where he was at was just fine.

  Chapter 21

  Rafael turned up a narrow trail snaking toward the top of the canyon walls a thousand feet above the river. His horse was wheezing badly and on its last legs. He cursed and whipped the animal unmercifully toward the ridge along a trail barely wide enough for a man on horseback. As the last bit of strength faded from the animal it staggered and stumbled.

  Ransom recognized the horse was failing but realized that his mule was also losing its strength. He dismounted and left the bloody animal behind. He had one remaining shot and no reloads. He did not want to waste his shot at long range.

  As he came to a turn, Rafael’s horse staggered badly. Rafael dismounted and watched the horse collapse and disappear over the side before he could fetch his own reloads. The pistol in his hand held his only remaining shot. He looked to the top of the ridge. If he could get in position at the top, he could wait for Ransom at his leisure and make him come within range.

  Ransom watched the horse tumble down the rocky slope, rolling and sliding until it went over a cliff and plunged to the bottom of the canyon. He could see Rafael pushing against his knees as he forced his body up the narrow trail to the top. He studied the face of the canyon. Other than the trail, there was no quick way to beat Rafael to the top. To try to climb the cliff face would slow him down and make him an easy target. He also knew that Rafael would be waiting for him. He decided that his only hope was to try to get Rafael to take a poor shot and then face him down with his knife. His wounded leg was aching badly and his shoulder was bleeding again. Raphael was a bigger probably stronger man and Ransom knew that in his condition he could not waste his shot. Even if it meant taking another bullet, he had to save his shot until he was certain he could kill Rafael. He shoved the pistol in his belt and pushed toward the top of the canyon wall.

  Rafael gasped for breath and tried to overcome the burning pain in his legs and chest as he made the top of the canyon. He looked down to see Ransom coming hard behind him. He reasoned that if Ransom was as exhausted as he was when he made the top that he could overwhelm him and throw him over the side before he could gain his strength. But Diablo would be too smart for that. He would wait until he could move up in good shape. Rafael looked down again. Ransom had stopped and was watching him, waiting for him to make the next move. Rafael drew his pistol to fire. He realized Ransom was smiling at him, wanting him to shoot his only remaining bullet. He held up. "So we have come to a standoff! Why don’t you come on, Diablo?"

  Ransom smiled. "I’m coming. Just as soon as you shoot that pistol."

  Rafael shook his head and smiled. "A little closer, por favor."

  Ransom slowly reached for his pistol and cocked the hammer. "I was thinking the same thing."

  Rafael thought for a moment then grinned demonically. "I remember your woman. I remember how she screamed when I threw the infant against the cabin wall. When my men had her she groaned like a pig, you know. I think she enjoyed it. I was going to burn her alive but then decided I would use the blade and skin her like the Apache do. She begged for hours. I especially enjoyed her screaming when I cut off her breasts."

  Ransom swallowed hard and tried to control the trembling in his hand. He knew what Rafael was trying to do. He stared coldly into Rafael’s eyes. "Remember that when I do the same to you."

  "No, amigo. It is not the same. Killing a man that way is not the same as watching a woman die in such a manner. You will never get your revenge, Diablo. It will never truly be the same."

  Ransom started toward him at a walk, keeping his eye on Rafael’s hand. He smiled coldly. "I’m going to kill you. Do whatever you can. I am going to kill you."

  Rafael watched him closing the distance, never taking his eyes off his face. He wanted to raise his pistol but hesitated, afraid of throwing away his last shot. He felt a dull cold fear crawling up his legs into his chest. There was a look in Diablo’s eyes. Diablo was going to kill him. A bullet was not going to stop him. He could see it in Diablo’s eyes. He was the devil.

  Ransom did not care about anything now. He told himself to keep his head and force Rafael to make the first move. He would take Rafael’s bullet if he had to but he would kill Rafael no matter what. He did not care. He was going to kill Rafael. Nothing else mattered.

  Rafael licked his lips as Ransom climbed slowly towards him. His sweat burned his eyes. He tightened his grip on his pistol. He would raise his
pistol and fire as he ran forward. He would push Diablo over the cliff before he could recover from his shot. His hand was trembling as Ransom came closer. He tried to settle his nerves so he could fire smoothly.

  Ransom recognized the fear in Rafael’s face. The Mexican was losing his nerve. Ransom watched his eyes to see when he would fire.

  Rafael raised the pistol. Ransom raised his own pistol and threw himself against the wall. They fired simultaneously.

  Rafael felt a heavy burning pain in his chest. He cut his eyes to Ransom. Ransom’s back was against the canyon wall. He was watching and smiling, his smoking pistol in his hand. Blood was flowing from his left shoulder as well as his right.

  Rafael looked down at his chest. Blood was flowing from a hole in his left lung. He dropped his pistol over the side and reached for his knife. He looked up to Ransom. "We die together, Diablo."

  Ransom let his pistol slip from his hand and over the cliff. He painfully drew his Bowie from his belt and smiled. "Then let’s get to it."

  Rafael shrieked as he charged down the narrow trail. Ransom remained against the wall, his knife held forward. Rafael made a slash across Ransom’s left forearm and lost his footing as he passed by.

  Ransom struck out with the blade and cut a deep gash from Rafael’s shoulder down across his chest toward the bottom of his rib cage on the other side but dropped his knife and it bounced over the edge.

  Rafael dug in his heels to keep from sliding over the edge. He rolled over painfully and struggled to his feet.

  Rafael took a step forward and Ransom stepped around to meet the challenge. Dry loose gravel made the footing uncertain and Ransom dug in his boot heels to keep from sliding.

  Rafael grinned demonically and motioned him forward with the blade of his knife. "Come on, Diablo. What are you waiting for?"

  Ransom shook his head. "No. You come for me. All I need to do is stand here and watch you bleed to death."

  Rafael took a careful step amid the loose gravel. "No, we die together." He lunged forward jabbing the knife towards Ransom’s stomach.