The Cossack Cowboy

by Lester S. Taube

  “Better plan on two weeks,” said Ned. “We’ve got a lot of riding ahead of us.”

  “Paul,” said Nora. “Pete told me that Upjohn is rebuilding the house on your ranch.”

  Paul’s eyes gleamed. “When you get back, have Pete find out all he can about that.” He smiled at them. “Well, good luck to us all. I think we’d better prepare to go home now.”

  Two weeks later, at midnight, Pete met Paul, Ned and Jim five miles from the ranch house. He pointed to the north. “About half a mile away is a gorge between rock formations. I have a corral there for your horses. We cannot keep them closer to the house. I will take you to the house, then bring the horses back.”

  Once inside a grove of trees, Pete motioned for them to dismount and tie the animals, then led them for ten minutes along the creek bed to the chicken shed. In the dark, he showed them how to lift up a cunningly cutout and hinged square panel in the back wall. Stepping inside, they saw that a partition had been erected fifteen inches away to hold the boxes for the chickens on the other side. Anyone walking into the shed would believe that the boxes were built to the rear wall, not suspecting that a space lay behind it.

  Pete guided them sideways down a number of earthen steps and through a head-high tunnel to another earthen staircase topped by a wooden trap door. He tapped lightly on it, and it opened almost instantly. Nora and Wes Laughton were waiting there. Nora and Paul held hands tightly, smiling at each other, then he shook hands with Wes. He looked about. They had fixed up a wonderful place in the cellar - beds, tables, chairs, rugs, lamps, washing facilities, even books.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Nora. “I have flapjacks, ham, biscuits and coffee.”

  There was a chorus of approval at once. When Nora had drawn the kitchen curtains, Paul came up to join her while she prepared the meal. She handed him a cup. “Here, drink this while you’re waiting.”

  Paul sniffed it. “Tea!” he exclaimed. He tasted it and let out a blissful sigh. “Lady Laughton,” he said formally, bowing and kissing her hand. “Kindly notify your cook that I am kidnapping her.”

  “She’ll go, too, willingly,” said Nora, chuckling. She kept the smile on her face as she added, “And one day I’ll have the fine English Lord kiss me on the lips when he greets me.”

  Paul took her in his arms and kissed her gently. “I’ve not been the easiest person in the world to put up with, have I?” he said as they drew apart.

  “Don Jose told me something very important before I left.”

  “He is a wise man. What did he say?”

  “He said that each day has a morning and a noon and a night, and that no matter how long or black the night, there will always be a morning to follow.”

  “Insha-Allah,” said Paul.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s Arabic – God willing.”

  She turned back to her cooking. “Our world must seem awfully small to you after all your travels”

  Paul turned her about, “You are saying something, aren’t you, Nora?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m saying that I love you, but that my heart won’t break completely if you don’t love me in return, and that I won’t cry and carry on if you don’t marry me, and that the most important thing for me now is to help you find peace.” She pulled away and went back to her cooking. “I don’t want you to feel embarrassed when I’m near you. We have a job to do. When it’s over, we can speak of all my feminine foolishness. Until then, you can kiss me whenever you want to because I know a part of you is very, very lonely.”

  “What of you during all this?”

  “I’m a ranch girl, Paul. That means I know herds don’t spring up overnight and trees don’t grow in a day. We built a dam on our northwest pasture. It took three years. I never thought of them as being three years of work but as three years of accomplishing something worthwhile. There’s a lot of difference between the two.” She piled the food on a platter. “Off with you, now. There are hungry men to feed.”

  Paul began his operations the following night. At ten in the ,evening he led Jim and Ned down the staircase and through the tunnel to the chicken shed. They listened carefully as they stepped through the hinged door and into the yard. All remained quiet. Quickly they made their way to the creek and followed it up for half a mile to where Pete was waiting with the horses.

  “Upjohn has fixed up the ranch good,” said Pete. “Three bunkhouses, stables, barns, many buildings. The main house - it’s pretty fancy.”

  “How many men does he have there?”

  “Fifty, sixty.”

  “Cowboys or gunfighters?”

  “All gunfighters. He keeps only a small herd for beef.”

  “Any dogs?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “All right, let’s go.”

  Two hours of riding brought them to the new buildings on the Three Barbs. Paul looked them over from the cover of a knoll. Upjohn had designed them for battle, there was no doubt of that. All were built of stone and adobe, and watchtowers had been erected on the roofs of two of the bunkhouses. The wall enclosing the entire complex had been repaired and heightened to almost five feet. Paul stared long and hard at the main house. Upjohn had torn down the ruins and erected a tall, turreted mansion of grey stone in its place, with barred windows and doors of solid oak. He must have moved an army of workmen onto the land the moment he took possession to have everything built so rapidly, and the cost must have been enormous. Even the road to Rijos had been leveled and graveled.

  “I say, Pete, can you get a bit of dynamite?”

  “Yes, we have some at a range hut not far from here. Take maybe two, two and a half hours to get.”

  Paul nodded. “That will give us till three o’clock. Couldn’t be better. Their eyes will be full of sleep and less alert. Get along with you, then, and ride fast.”

  Pete was back in just under two hours, three bound packages tied to his saddle. Paul inspected the dynamite carefully. “Fuses too long,” he said.

  “They set for twenty seconds,” said Pete. “Sometimes go off in ten.”

  “What a cheerful thought,” mused Paul, poising his knife over a fuse. “How many would you say go off in ten?”

  “Always different,” said Pete. “One time cut fuse for five minutes, went off in ten seconds.”

  “I’ll never understand how you people conquered the west, what with disobedient fuses and all that.” He cut them in half. Sliding down to the base of the knoll, he lighted a cigarro and puffed until the end was gleaming red, then mounted his horse. “Keep the lads in the watchtowers occupied, will you?” he said to Ned, Jim and Pete, then waving a brief goodbye, he spurred his horse towards the walls of the ranch buildings two hundred yards away.

  A shout of alarm sounded before he was halfway to the wall and seconds later a shot rang out. Instantly, Ned, Jim and Pete were shooting at the watchtowers, giving him covering fire.

  As his horse leaped over the wall, Paul loosened one of the sacks of dynamite from the pommel of his saddle, took the cigarro from his mouth and thrust the lighted end against the fuse. The moment he saw it spark he raced towards a bunkhouse and flung it into a window. He had barely gotten clear when a thunderous detonation disintegrated the walls, door and roof. Immediately, he slipped another sack from his pommel and lit the fuse, his horse charging at full speed towards the far end of the wall. Spinning it about, he gave it the spur, his eyes watching the sparks and his lips counting the number of seconds flashing by. At the count of seven, he threw it through the window of another bunkhouse with a deep, relieved sigh and leaned far over the horse’s neck. Two seconds later, the explosion lighted up the yard and pieces of adobe splattered all around him.

  He turned to make his third run, then suddenly spun his horse and raced for the wall. The occupants of the last bunkhouse had poured out into the yard, some naked and some clad in underclothes, carrying sixguns and rifles, fully awake and fighting mad. As his horse leaped the wall, he reminded himself that he
was not opposing cowboys who slept like logs but trained gunfighters who lived by their wits and skills.

  He bent low on his mount as he sped into the night, leaving behind him the crackling of shots and the screaming of the wounded. Ned, Jim and Pete came after him when he thundered by, and once they were in the clear, Jim caught up. “Well done,” he shouted.

  Paul waved a salute. “Good show, yourselves.”

  “Do you know where you are?” shouted Jim.

  “Of course, on the Three Barbs.”

  “You’re trespassing. Could be arrested,” he hooted. They all burst into laughter.

  Suddenly, from the ranch an arrow of fire rose into the sky and exploded into a red star cluster. Paul motioned for them to stop. He scanned the sky, holding his breath, and then it came, directly from their front, a flame darting into the air and bursting into a green cluster, and seconds later a green cluster on their left-hand side, and soon after, one on their right-hand side.

  “Damn,” muttered Paul under his breath.

  “What do you make of that, Paul?” asked Ned.

  “We’ve walked into a hornets” nest.” He signaled for Pete to come to his side. “Can you get us through, or do we lower visors and charge?”

  “I know of a trail that goes between the flares.”

  “All right, but keep a sharp look-out. I’ve got the ugliest feeling down my spine that we were not unexpected. Something tells me that our arrival here was not a surprise.”

  “Maybe Upjohn knew of Nora’s trip and put two and two together,” said Ned.

  “Whatever it is, we have gunfighters alerted, so keep your senses about you and be ready to ride if anything happens.”

  Quietly, Pete led them through the night along a narrow trail that dipped into draws and along stretches of sand, stopping every so often to listen and look about.

  As they came near the end of a particularly long ravine, Pete abruptly halted and raised his hand for silence. The sounds of a large party of men were coming towards them! Instantly, they slid from their horses, carbines in hand. While Pete and Ned held the horses’ muzzles to prevent them from neighing, Paul and Jim took up positions against the lip of the ravine, ready to open fire the moment they were discovered.

  The sounds came closer and closer. Then, in the clear of the night, a voice was heard. “Chip, you take four of the boys and swing right. Spread wide out. Hank, you take four and swing to the left. Use those flares if you see anything.”

  Stones rattled under the hooves of the horses as they walked off in opposite directions. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a face was seen at the edge of the ravine! Jim fired instantly! The body of a man toppled over the side and down to the bottom.

  “Go!” shouted Paul, leaping on the back of his horse. Carbine in hand, he watched the edge of the ravine tensely as the others swung on their mounts. A line of men appeared above them. Paul fired rapidly, knocking two of them from their saddles, then he spurred his horse and raced off after the others, Shots came whistling by. Directly ahead of him, Ned staggered in his saddle. Paul caught up and held him upright.

  Then they were at the end of the ravine and climbing the fifteen feet to the flats. Ned was swaying perilously. “Jim!” called Paul. Jim promptly dropped back, took one look at Ned, and supported him from the other side.

  Into the night they thundered, hotly pursued by the men they had encountered. Then a red flare went up from behind them, and seconds later green flashed on all sides.

  Pete threw up his hand and pointed. Directly ahead another group of gunfighters was riding towards them. At once, they turned to the right. “Hold Ned!” shouted Paul to Jim, as he slowed up and unslung his carbine. Slipping his feet loose from the stirrups, he drew up his knees and spun round on his horse, facing backwards. Aiming carefully, his first shot struck the man leading the chase. As the rider dropped from the saddle, his horse stumbled and tripped up a number of horses following it. They fell in a great pile.

  Immediately, Paul swiveled on his seat and spurred his mount to catch up with the others.

  Then from the left another party of gunfighters came into sight!

  “Can’t hold him much longer!” shouted Jim as Paul helped him with Ned. “We’ve got to let him go or hole up.”

  “Pete!” called Paul. Pete slowed his horse. “Where can we make a stand?”

  Pete’s eyes flicked at Ned swaying dazedly in his saddle. “Come,” he shouted, motioning to his right. A few minutes of riding brought them to a jagged hill, one side rising nearly a hundred feet straight up. At the base, were outcrops of rocks forming a natural semi-circular defensive position.

  Paul spurred ahead to the rocks and was off his horse before it stopped, quickly firing at the dark mass of gunfighters closing in on Jim and Ned. Seconds later, Pete was beside him, adding his fire. The pursuers came to an abrupt halt, then raced back to sheltering rocks a couple of hundred yards away, swinging down from their saddles and returning the fire.

  Paul crawled to where Jim had laid Ned on the ground and was examining a wound in his left upper arm.

  “He’ll be all right,” said Jim. “He’s just dizzy from the shock.”

  Ned was blinking his eyes and trying to sit up. Jim pulled out a handkerchief and bandaged the wound.

  Paul rejoined Pete and looked out at the area. Their position was excellent for defense, since the ground in front of them was as flat as a board and devoid of cover. He turned and peered up through the night at the top of the cliff.

  “Nasty place to have people shooting down at you. Well, can’t have everything, can we?” He reloaded his carbine, staring at Pete. “Pete,” he finally said. “We can’t have you here. One man more or less isn’t going to change our bowl of porridge at sun-up, but it would cause Wes all kinds of trouble if you were found here. So…” he pointed to Pete’s rifle, “…if you will be good enough to leave that and all your cartridges, I think you should be off.” He grinned wistfully. “You’ve been a bit of all right, Pete.”

  Pete nodded and emptied his pockets of shells. “What’ll I tell Wes and Nora?”

  Paul’s smile grew tighter. “Tell Wes I love him and give him a kiss for me.”

  “For Wes?”

  “He’ll understand. Now, be off with you.”

  Paul drew Pete’s rifle closer to himself as he prepared to cover the escape. Moments later, Pete raced out of the defensive position and to one side, his revolver booming as he rode through the gunfighters. Paul emptied his carbine to pin down the enemy, then snatched up the rifle and emptied that, letting out a deep sigh when he saw Pete break into the clear, apparently unwounded. Several of Upjohn’s men leaped on their horses and took off after him, but Paul was not worried - it would be a miracle if they caught the wily half-breed.

  The gunfighters fired only occasionally, spreading themselves out in better positions to close the trap more securely on the three men, Paul fired now and then at moving objects to warn them to keep their distance. Jim crawled up and peered out. “How does it look, Paul?”

  “It appears that we will have a restful night, then a cup of bitter tea in the morning.”

  “Do we try to break through?”

  “How’s Ned?”

  “He may be able to ride in the morning.”

  “We’ll think about it then.” He passed Jim a cigarro, put one in his mouth, and lit both. “Jim, one man more or less won’t change our bowl of porridge.”

  “I heard you tell that to Pete. What is porridge?”

  “It’s a cereal, made of oats.”

  “Figured as much.” He studied the end of his cigarro. “I’m a hired gunfighter, Paul, just like those fellows out there. When we take a man’s money, that’s sorta like a legal contract. But contract or not, I’d like to eat that porridge with you.”

  Paul’s lips twitched as he raised his cigarro in salute. “Couldn’t think of a finer dinner companion.” He stretched his weary muscles. “Get some sleep, Jim - I’m afraid it’s going to be a
very, very short night.”

  It was a beautiful sunrise, almost a sudden one, the rocks splashed by rays of red and orange and yellow, with fingers of light probing into the shadows and their reflections bouncing like ricocheting bullets. The sweet tang of grass wafted in the air, undulating currents shimmering belly high, stoked by the warmth of the sun, whirling and dancing as if in play.

  Jim brought a cup of hot coffee to Paul, who was on guard, then sipped at his own as he looked out at the gunfighters.

  Paul motioned at them with an amused chuckle. “The benefits of working for a well-run organization.”

  And it had been well organized. What had once been empty prairie the night before was now bustling with men erecting tents and the rattle of wagons bringing up supplies, and a chuck wagon serving food to gunfighters seated at three long tables, and riders coming and going - all just a hair beyond rifle range.

  “Must be over a hundred of them out there,” remarked Jim. “Mighty lot of men for just the three of us.”.

  “You must remember that trespassing is a grave offence. A bit of luck for us that we’re not near the sea. They might have called up a forty-gun frigate or two.” He shaded his eyes, and, suddenly, they grew as cold as ice. His lips tightened. “Hail, Caesar,” he said under his breath.

  And Caesar it was, Upjohn riding that tall beauty of a red horse, followed by thirty men. He stopped at the wagons and took a pair of binoculars from his saddle bag, focusing them on the rocks. Paul, knowing he was being scrutinized, casually lit a cigarro and puffed at it, flicking the ashes away nonchalantly, tapping his mouth with exaggerated unconcern as he pretended to yawn.

  It certainly infuriated Upjohn, for he barked out a series of orders, sending the men from the tables back to the line behind the rocks. At once, the gunfighters opened a rapid rate of fire, pinning them down so tightly that they could scarcely move about

  Paul peered between two rocks. “We will be having company soon,” he said to Jim.