by Dale Graham
‘You can’t do this,’ the accused man remonstrated, struggling to retain some measure of dignity. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong.’
‘The jury says you have,’ Rizzo snapped. ‘The verdict is that you’re nought but a dirty, cheating rat.’ An icy glower pinned down the object of his wrath. ‘There’s only one way to deal with scum like that.’
The gun blasted twice, an ear-splitting roar in the confined space. Steiger’s punctured body slammed back with the force of the .44 shells drilling into him. He stood no chance. Before the noise and smoke had dissipated, Rizzo stepped back, facing the small gathering. His gun wavered not a jot. ‘Now that this swindling chiseller has taken an early retirement, I’m taking over.’ A demonic grin challenged Laredo, Buckshot Roberts and the others to contest his claim.
Nobody was eager to go up against the hard-bitten gunman who had just carried out the letter of vigilante law with its gruesome aftermath. ‘A wise decision, boys. We’ll ride over to the Jaybird tomorrow and take a look at our new gold mine. If’n what Utah has said is true, we’re all gonna be rich.’ He moved round the desk, tipping the previous incumbent onto the floor unceremoniously, and sat down. ‘Fits me to a tee, don’t you think?’ he muttered gleefully.
‘He shouldn’t have held out on us, that’s for sure,’ Laredo concurred, eager to show his loyalty to the new leader of the pack.
‘That he shouldn’t,’ Rizzo agreed. A scornful glance at the bloody corpse followed. ‘This skunk was ready for stepping down anyways. I just gave him a helpful nudge.’ Ribald guffaws saw him picking up the crystal glass of abandoned whisky and slinging it down his throat. ‘Creedy, you and Buckshot get rid of this ugly mess. Throw him down the ravine out back. Give the coyotes an early dinner.’
The two designated lackeys were not slow to obey the new boss. ‘After you’ve done that, spread the word around that the S Bar 7 is under new management.’ Squint then leaned back in the expensive leather swivel chair and puffed on the cigar. He could barely credit how fortune had suddenly swung in his favour. With Chisum and Redleg out of the way, and now Steiger, that left Squint Rizzo as top dog.
Once he had had time to assess his new position, Rizzo was well aware that with the original owners of Jaybird land now dead, he needed to claim right of tenure quickly by having an official document drawn up. And that meant a trip to Del Rio.
His next order was for Laredo, who was quickly positioning himself as the new boss’s second-in-command. ‘Gather a half-dozen of the boys together and get an early night’s sleep. First thing in the morning, we ride for Del Rio to have this good fortune of our’n made legal. Then we head straight for the Jaybird.’ His blunt-edged gaze narrowed, the tone of his voice dropping to a sibilant grunt. ‘Whatever happens, that gold sure ain’t going to fall into anyone else’s lap. If’n the law don’t back our claim, then this will.’ He drew his pistol to emphasize the manner by which vigilante law would continue to operate in the Nueces Valley.
Nothing had changed in that respect.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Shock for Rizzo
Early next morning, Laredo was gathering his men together for the ride to Del Rio. Outside the bunkhouse, the jangle of saddle tack was overshadowed by chatter dominated by the gold discovery. Each of the men was describing how he would spend his share of the paydirt. The mood was buoyant.
‘Just think of all those high class dames we can dally with,’ remarked a dreamy-eyed Bug Pincher while fastening his cinch strap.
‘Ain’t no smart-ass gal gonna take your dough until you’ve had a bath,’ Foxy Janus guffawed. The others joined in with the hilarity. Pincher merely shrugged his narrow shoulders. ‘You fellas are just jealous of my good looks.’
‘With the look of jackass, you’d be more welcome in a stable, Bug,’ added Shotgun Roberts. And so the good-hearted joshing continued.
It was a shout from Creedy that saw his comrades gathering round. The owlhoot had just commandeered the weekly news-sheet that he had found stuck in the mailbox at the entrance to the ranch. ‘Take a look at this, you guys.’ A jabbing finger pointed out the boldly typed advert, contained within a thick black border so as not to be overlooked. Not the smartest of jaspers, he queried puzzlingly, ‘What do you reckon that’s all about?’
As leading hand, Laredo snatched the sheet and read it quickly. Beetled eyebrows lifted in shocked amazement. Blue Creek Chisum alive and hiring on men! His mind spun trying to comprehend the gravity of what this intimated. Abruptly deflated, he knew that Rizzo would have to be told, and that was down to him. Promotion suddenly didn’t seem such a good move.
All the others looked to him. ‘That’ll sure wipe the smile off Rizzo’s face,’ Roberts declared, clearly relieved that he was not the one having to convey such dire tidings. ‘Best get it over with, Laredo.’
Reluctantly, the new deputy dragged his leaden feet towards the house. He was figuring out how to pass on the bad news quickly. ‘Everything ready out there?’ Rizzo barked out while strapping on his gun belt. He was thoroughly enjoying his new role as a big shot. ‘We need to get on the trail pronto.’
Laredo’s hesitation was quickly noted. ‘Some’n bothering you?’
‘Best read this first, boss,’ he said nervously handing over the paper. ‘Guess it changes everything.’
‘What in blue blazes are you griping about?’ Rizzo growled snatching the sheet. There was no reply, and no need for one as the awful truth hit home with a vengeance. ‘Goldarn it! That guy was more lives than a blamed cat. What do I have to do to get rid of the varmint?’ He stamped about the room. Grabbing a full bottle of whisky, he hurled it at the wall. It shattered in myriad pieces, slivers of glass and liquid flying around, but did nothing to curb his anger.
Laredo backed off, remaining silent and praying to avoid any blame. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’ was an adage that he now clung to desperately. But Squint Rizzo was already sussing out the implications of what the advert put forward: namely that Chisum had survived the fire. So whose body had they found burnt to a cinder in the ashes? It had to be Curly Bill Redleg. His whole body stiffened, fists bunched, knuckles white as snow.
His old pard must have sneaked out the back way and stumbled on the hidden gold mine in the cliffs behind the cabin. It all added up. But there was one mystery that still needed a solution. Who had they seen on that wagon heading off to get supplies? His brow furrowed in thought. Only one jigger it could be. Since the fistfight in Uvalde and his mysterious disappearance, nothing had been seen of the Gump. Ordway must have joined forces with Chisum, and now they were seeking to recruit a small army of labourers to protect the Jaybird from any takeover. Once again, he peered down at the advert. ‘Ten o’clock, it says here,’ he muttered to himself. He looked at the clock ticking away the seconds on the wall. ‘Are the boys ready to ride?’ he snapped to Laredo.
‘Just give the word, boss, and we’re ready,’ he effused, eager to please the unpredictable gunman.
‘I need every man on the ranch armed and ready for a set-to, including the cook and handyman,’ Rizzo ordered. ‘We can reach Uvalde before the deadline if’n we set off in ten minutes.’ A caustic glint held the hovering lackey in a potent grip. ‘And not a minute later, savvy?’
‘You got it, boss,’ Laredo confirmed, glued to the spot.
‘Then shift your ass, dummy!’
The atmosphere in Uvalde was tense, thick enough to almost taste. Much as the council had tried to keep the upcoming showdown under wraps, such momentous tidings were bound to leak out. Those not involved had made sure to be locked up safe inside their homes. And there they sat, watching the clock circling around the dial remorselessly.
Nobody was under any illusions that the vigilantes would try to disrupt the enlistment of workers. Ben had taken charge, instructing Mayor Crawley to plant those sharpshooters he had engaged in the best places to trap the gang. ‘We need to have them in position by nine o’clock,’ he advised. ‘Steiger will want to ar
rive before the recruiting drive begins, and we need to be ready for any stunt he pulls.’
He had commandeered a table from the local diner and placed it on one side of the street, facing the direction from which he expected the vigilantes to appear. There he sat on a chair, checking his guns and with a pencil and enrolment sheet ready.
‘You can’t face these jaspers alone,’ Crawley protested. ‘Let me stand alongside you. I’m the mayor of this town and it’s my duty to prove I have the guts to make a stand when the chips are down.’
Crawley’s stoic determination to lend his support was touching, and Ben hadn’t the heart to refuse. He accepted the offer reluctantly with a firm handshake, but also with a warning corollary. ‘But when the shooting starts, which it surely will, remember that I’m a gunfighter used to this kind of shindig, and you’re a blacksmith. So keep your head down and don’t take any unnecessary risks.’
Ben hooked out his Hunter pocket watch. It read ten after nine. ‘Go make a final check that all the men are in position. And spread the word that nobody fires a shot before Steiger pulls his gun. Then it’s survival of the fittest. And that’ll be us. I guarantee it.’
An easygoing smile projected total confidence. Yet inside the hero of Blue Creek was silently praying for a miracle. He was under no illusions that Steiger would arrive with a strong force of hardened gunslingers desperate to squash his philanthropic ambitions. The mayor accepted Ben’s optimism at face value and proceeded on his way; he shooed kids off the street and ensured that everyone knew to keep their heads down once the fireworks erupted.
The church clock had just rung the half hour toll when riders appeared at the top end of the street. Rizzo drew his men to a halt. ‘Looks mighty quiet,’ he pondered nudging forward at a slow walk. ‘Where is everybody?’
‘Feels kind of spooky,’ remarked Pincher throwing nervous glances at the blank windows that stared back oozing menace. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Cut the griping,’ rasped the new leader, sensing the edginess taking a hold of his men. ‘Just keep your eyes open for that slippery varmint, Chisum.’ The object of his wrath was out of sight due to a kink in the street.
Moments later, it was Laredo who spotted him sitting behind a large table, casually studying a thick, open ledger all ready to enrol his hired hands. ‘There he is,’ exclaimed the tough. ‘And all on his ownsome. Looks like we’ve arrived before anyone else has signed on.’
Gritting his teeth, Rizzo led the way up the street, stopping some twenty feet short of the centrally placed table.
Ben was frowning, unsure whether the gang leader had pulled a fast one and split his force. ‘I don’t see Steiger. He scared to face me?’
‘Web decided it was time to take early retirement.’ Rizzo chuckled. ‘Or, more to the point, I decided he was no longer fit enough to run the S Bar 7. So it’s me you’re dealing with now, buster.’
Ben responded with a casual nod. ‘Guess he was getting a bit long in the tooth. You boys ready to sign up and work for the Jaybird? I’ll be paying good wages.’
The mordant smirk elicited a snarl of irritation from his nemesis. ‘Don’t get cocky with me, Blue Creek,’ Rizzo growled. ‘We both know why I’m here. You escaped from that blaze. But I’m taking over the Jaybird. And you can bet it won’t be for no crop harvesting. That gold is mine.’
‘Don’t matter none. You’re too late anyway.’ Ben’s rejoinder was accompanied by a casual shrug. ‘I’ve already hired twenty guys who are down there at this minute gathering in the crops. You ain’t going nowhere, except to jail, or hell – your choice.’
‘And who’s gonna stop me and my boys riding you down, then showing those lunkheads who’s in charge now?’
The arrogant grimace was removed by Ben’s following remark. ‘The whole town is tired of you and your brand of vigilante law lording it over them. That gold is going to benefit the Nueces Valley, and not Squint Rizzo. Better you surrender now or face the consequences.’
‘And what might they be?’
Ben pointed to the rooftops overlooking the tense confrontation. One by one, men revealed their presence, aiming rifles down at the bunching S Bar 7 hands. ‘You’re surrounded by people sick of being ground underfoot. One signal from me, and they’ll open fire.’
Nervous looks passed between the vigilantes. This was not how it was meant to be. Already, Foxy Janus and Bug Pincher were considering throwing in the towel. But they were given no chance to capitulate. Rizzo had sworn to chop this guy down to size. And he was not giving up the chance of acquiring his very own gold mine without a fight. Submission was out of the question.
‘Let ’em have it, boys,’ he yelled out, drawing his revolver.
Ben kicked over the table immediately and sheltered behind it as bullets chewed lumps out of the wood. The commencement of shooting galvanized the watching townsfolk into action. Rifle fire poured down on the milling horsemen. Two were struck down immediately. The others leapt off their horses and sought cover, but there was none to be had. Earlier, Ben had ordered any means of cover to be removed from the street, foreseeing the outcome of this showdown.
The attackers put up a brief, yet spirited resistance, but they were outmanned and outgunned. Seeing their buddies being cut down ruthlessly, the remainder decided that a plot on Boot Hill was too premature. Surrender was the only option. Guns were tossed away and hands rose.
‘Don’t shoot, we give up!’ The fearful shout of submission came from Laredo. A raised hand, waving a muddy white bandana frantically, was acknowledged by Ben.
‘Hold your fire, boys,’ he ordered. ‘Looks like these jaspers have had enough. But keep your eyes peeled for any false moves.’
Within half a minute of the battle erupting, it was all over. Smoke from a host of small arms and rifles drifted in the air.
‘You fellas keep those hands stiff and high,’ Ben rapped out carefully, showing himself, his own gun ready to deliver a hot reply to any shifty wiles. ‘Any tricks and the curtain comes down.’ Now that the battle was over, Obediah Crawley emerged from the blacksmith’s shop, together with a host of other armed citizens.
They surrounded the miscreants and began herding them down the centre of the street. Ben watched them carefully. ‘Well done, boys,’ he praised the defenders. ‘This is what happens when folks stick together. Anybody injured?’
‘Thanks to you, Mister Chisum, not a single one of our boys was hit,’ replied the bubbling Mayor. ‘It was our lucky day when you came to the Nueces.’
Ben accepted the acclaim with his usual nonchalant accord. It was nothing new. But all the same, it gave him a warm feeling to know he had completed a job to his own satisfaction, as well as those for whom he had been striving. But there was still something not right. A sixth sense made him hesitate.
That was moment he noticed that Rizzo was not among the living, or the dead. He hustled along to the front of the downcast group. ‘I ain’t seen Rizzo since he decided to throw you all to the wolves. Where’s the rat skulking?’ The demand for an answer was brittle and threatening. ‘Come on out with, you jerks. What stunt is he trying to pull?’
The casual gratification of moments before was discarded brusquely as he grabbed the nearest vigilante by the shirt, shaking him like a dog with a bone. ‘Answer me or I’ll drill you where you stand.’ The barrel of his gun jabbed into Bug Pincher’s neck.
But it was Laredo who spoke up. He had spotted Rizzo backing off down an alley when the fracas had blow up. Only now did he cotton that the treacherous skunk had fled to save his own skin. ‘I saw him duck out the firing line down an alley back yonder, leaving us guys to enjoy all the fun.’ He spat into the dirt to express his disdain for the cowardly desertion. ‘My reckoning is he’s heading straight for the Jaybird to grab as much gold as he can carry off.’
Ben tossed Pincher aside. His brow furrowed in serious thought. He wasn’t convinced by Laredo’s assertion, logical as it sounded. Rizzo would know that with the raid stymied,
his disappearance would be sussed quickly and a pursuit organized by his principal adversary. With Ben Chisum hot on his tail, there would be little chance of securing the gold.
The full horror of the varmint’s real intentions suddenly became obvious. Securing a hostage would act as a powerful bargaining chip, and who other than Elsa Durham could offer that security? Ben would have surrendered every danged nugget of the yellow stuff if’n it would effect her safe release.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Winner Takes All!
‘You look after these birds,’ Ben instructed Crawley. ‘I’m going after that pesky coyote. He’s gone after Elsa and there’s only Gus Ordway standing in his way.’ The sombre attitude did not auger well for the simple guy’s survival. ‘If’n I ain’t back by tomorrow noon, head straight for the Jaybird, ’cos that’s where the skunk will be headed.’
Without further ado, he scurried off uptown to the livery where his horse was stabled, cursing the delay that would allow Rizzo to stretch his lead. The chase was soon afoot, Ben urging the chestnut to stretch its legs to the limit. Yet even he knew that such a frantic dash would be counterproductive. Regretfully acknowledging the need for pragmatism, he soon forced the pace down to a steady canter. A passionate compulsion urged him to dig in the spurs. But he held his nerve knowing that Rizzo was in the same position.
A forced halt at around the halfway mark was made to rest the animal at a water hole. Recent hoof prints told him that his quarry had made a similar stop and could not be far ahead. No more than two miles from the Durham holding, a single gunshot broke in on the rhythmic pounding of hoofs.
Ben’s heart skipped a beat. Throwing caution to the wind, he dug deep, urging the chestnut to a frenetic gallop. When the small homestead came into view, he reined back the reckless pace, narrowed eyes searching fearfully for any movement.
A lone horse was tethered on the outskirts of the corral. It had to be Rizzo’s. The rat must have sneaked up on the cabin’s occupants. Moving closer, he could see a body lying on the veranda. The bright red of new blood contrasted markedly with the plain surroundings. Ben forced a tear back. Gus Ordway had paid the ultimate price trying to protect his charge.