“You look better,” Teresa said with a smile as she looked at Bo and Scratch. Bo wore one of Enrique’s old shirts. It was too small, but better than nothing. Scratch had a serape draped over his shoulders. Both Texans had rags wrapped around their feet. Walking barefoot out of the mountains the night before had left their feet bruised, scratched, and swollen.
“I reckon we’ve still got a ways to go before we’re up to snuff again,” Bo said with a smile. “But we’ve got some of our strength back already.”
“Did Davidson’s men come to the village looking for you?”
“They did,” Bo confirmed, “but thanks to Señorita Evangelina here, they didn’t find us.”
Luz said, “What are we going to do now? How long can you keep hiding like that? For that matter, how long must the three of us hide in the hills like animals?”
“It was your choice to come down here,” Bo pointed out. “And speaking of that, what in blazes made you do such a thing?”
Luz shrugged, making her breasts move under her shirt. “This little one”—and she gestured toward Teresa—“spoke of how much gold there was for the taking in that mine. I asked myself, why shouldn’t some of it belong to me?”
“And I go where Luz goes,” Pepe added.
“Anyway, I knew Teresa would not stay in El Paso,” Luz went on. “I could tell by looking at her how restless she was as soon as the two of you left. If we had not come with her, she would have run away from my house, stolen a horse, and ridden back here by herself.”
Teresa got a defiant look on her face as she said, “This is my home. These are my people. Should I turn my back on them while others fight the battles I should be helping to fight?”
“We did ask you to stay put,” Bo said.
“I sort of figured you wouldn’t, though,” Scratch added.
Teresa tossed her head. “I am here now and ready to wage war against Davidson. Just because I failed the first time does not mean that I will again.”
Bo frowned and tugged at his earlobe. “And how are you going to go about waging that war, Señorita? You don’t have an army.”
“I have the people of San Ramon. Some of them will fight. I swear it.”
“That’s all well and good, but an army has to have weapons.”
Evangelina said, “As I told you, we have a few guns that we were able to hide.”
Bo shook his head. “That won’t help you against Davidson and his men. There are too many of them, and they are too well armed.”
Teresa blew out her breath in exasperation. “Then what do you suggest that we do, Señor Creel? Sit back and wait until Davidson is finished brutalizing us and killing us?”
“Not at all,” Bo said. “I was thinking that it would go a long way toward evening the odds if we could get our hands on a certain item that’s stored in a couple of crates in one of those sheds…”
CHAPTER 21
Scratch let out a low whistle and exclaimed, “That doggone machine gun!”
Bo nodded. “That’s right.”
“What is this…machine gun?” Luz asked. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“I’ll bet you’ve heard of a Gatling gun,” Bo said.
“Sí. I have heard men speak of a weapon by that name.”
“Well, they call this a Gardner gun, and it spits out a bunch of bullets in a hurry, just like a Gatling. Lancaster used one when he was posted with the British Army in India. We brought it with us the first time we rode down from El Paso, even though I don’t reckon any of us except Davidson and Lancaster knew it at the time.”
“You reckon we could figure out how to use such a contraption?” Scratch asked.
Bo shrugged. “We’ve both used a Gatling gun before. If we had a little time to study on it, I think we could figure it out.”
A look of anticipation came into Scratch’s eyes. “After the things we’ve seen down here, it’d feel mighty good to cut loose like that on Davidson and his bunch. I’d say they got it comin’ to ’em.”
Bo turned to Teresa. “Davidson said that a man could probably climb in and out of the canyon at its far end. Do you know if that’s true?”
She nodded and said, “Yes. It would not be an easy climb, but it could be done. And we could always let men down with ropes, as we did with Pepe.”
“The thing is,” Scratch said, “Davidson’s liable to have some guards posted along the canyon now, ’cause he knows we got out of there somehow. We can’t just waltz in, grab them crates with the machine gun from the shed, and waltz back out again.”
“No, we’ll probably have to knock out the guards,” Bo said. “It’s going to take a considerable amount of stealth, and I don’t think Scratch and I are up to it right now. We’re going to have to rest and recover for a few days first. I hate to ask you folks here in the valley to put up with Davidson for any longer than you have to—”
“Better to wait until our chances of success improve,” Evangelina said. “We have endured Davidson’s cruelty for months now. A few more days will not make any difference.”
“So you say,” Luz muttered. “As for me, I can almost see that gold glittering in my hands.”
“The gold would make a lot of difference for the people in this valley,” Bo pointed out. “It could make life a lot better for them.”
Luz shrugged. “I will not take all of it.”
Bo was grateful for the help she and Pepe had given them—without it he and Scratch would be dead by now, more than likely—but he told himself it might be a good idea to keep an eye on her anyway.
For the next four days, the Texans stayed with Evangelina and Enrique, resting and regaining their strength. Their bullet wounds began to heal. Teresa, Luz, and Pepe slipped into the village every night and came to Evangelina’s hut. Some of the other villagers knew that Bo and Scratch were there, but Bo warned Evangelina not to spread the word of their presence any more than she had to. While it was unlikely that anyone would sell them out to Davidson, it wasn’t impossible for such a thing to happen.
Evangelina brought them clothes that fit better, although she couldn’t get boots for them. They would have to wear rope sandals when they ventured out next. She found another gun for them, too, a rusty Colt that was newer than Enrique’s old cap-and-ball pistol but hadn’t been taken care of as well. The Colt had four rounds in the chamber; that was all the ammunition they had for it.
Davidson’s men showed up again to search the village, showing that he hadn’t forgotten about the Texans. But Bo and Scratch were hidden safely in the little chamber under the hut when the searchers came, and once again the men didn’t spot the trapdoor.
Bo knew that they had been lucky so far not to be discovered. Eventually, Davidson might become frustrated enough to order his men to tear the village apart looking for them. They needed to make their move before that could happen.
Scratch was getting a mite restless, too. When the silver-haired Texan suggested after four days that they pay another visit to Cutthroat Canyon, Bo nodded and said, “Yeah, I reckon it’s about time.”
That night when Teresa, Luz, and Pepe came to the hut, Bo told them, “We’re going after that machine gun tonight.”
“Are you well enough?” Teresa asked with a worried frown.
“We’re feelin’ right spry again,” Scratch told with a grin.
“It has been less than a week since you were wounded—”
“We’re in pretty good shape for a couple of old fellas,” Bo said.
Scratch snorted. “Speak for yourself. I ain’t all that old, ladies.”
“I can vouch for that,” Luz said, which made Scratch’s grin grow even wider.
“We’ll need some rope,” Bo said, dragging the conversation back on track. “And a couple of knives would come in handy, too. If there are guards, we’ll need to kill them as quietly as possible.”
The matter-of-fact way in which he said it made Teresa and Evangelina glance at each other, Bo noted. They had their own
grudges against Davidson and his men, to be sure, and he had no doubt that they would fight and kill their enemies if the need arose, but they were still young women who had lived most of their lives in a peaceful farming community. They weren’t used to battle, bloodshed, and sudden death—and with any luck they never would be.
Teresa, Luz, and Pepe had each had a lariat on their saddle when they rode down there from El Paso, so ropes wouldn’t be a problem. They had pistols and rifles as well. Bo and Scratch each borrowed a pistol from them, tucking the guns inside their belts, so the Texans had two guns apiece now. Evangelina left the hut, and came back a short time later with a pair of knives. Bo and Scratch added them to their makeshift arsenal as well.
“Can I come with you?” Enrique asked with a hopeful expression on his whiskery old face.
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Bo said. Seeing the disappointment that replaced the enthusiasm on Enrique’s face, he added, “We need you to stay here and look after Evangelina. She’ll need someone to help her if there’s any trouble.”
“Oh.” Enrique nodded. “I can do that.”
As they were getting ready to leave, Evangelina found a moment to speak to Bo privately, keeping her voice low so that they wouldn’t be overheard. “Thank you for what you said to Enrique. He just wants to help.”
“I know that,” Bo told her with a smile. “And he’s mighty devoted to you. Is he your grandfather?”
She shook her head. “We are not related. He lived with his daughter and her husband until a fever took them both a few years ago. Someone had to look after him, so I asked him to come live with me. He thinks of me as his granddaughter at times, but as you know, he is easily confused.”
“Well, what I told him was the truth. Scratch and I will feel better about things with the old-timer here to help you if you need him.”
Over the past few days, Evangelina had rounded up serapes and sombreros for them, too, so when Bo and Scratch slipped out of the hut late that night, after the moon had gone down, they looked like villagers themselves. Teresa, Luz, and Pepe went with them, and once again a couple of them had to ride double after they reached the place where they had left the horses.
Teresa led the way into the mountains. With the moon gone, the stars provided the only light, but it was enough. Ever since she was a little girl, Teresa explained, she had roamed over the hills that bordered the valley, climbing from them into the mountains as well, so she knew every step of the trails.
“Reckon you must’ve been what we call a tomboy,” Scratch commented. “You grew up ridin’ horses and explorin’, didn’t you?”
“What of it?” Teresa said. “Woman’s work never appealed to me.”
“Why should it?” Luz asked. “Women work twice as hard as men and receive half the credit. I was married once. I know. That is why I decided to put my skills to better use.”
“By prostituting yourself?” Teresa said. “Is that really better?”
“For me it was,” Luz declared. “And now no man tells me what to do.”
Bo didn’t want them to get into an argument. He said, “We’d better be quiet. I doubt if Davidson has any guards posted outside the canyon except the rifleman in the bell tower, but we can’t be sure of that.”
They climbed through the hills, eventually dismounted, and began working their way on foot toward the canyon. Pepe had two of the coiled lariats draped over his shoulder.
At last they found themselves at the top of a steep, rugged slope. Teresa leaned close to Bo and Scratch and whispered, “This is the end of the canyon. If you climb down here, it is a little less than a mile to the mine.”
“Toss one of the ropes down,” Bo told Pepe. “We may not need it, but it’ll be there if we do.”
When Pepe had anchored one end of the rope around an upthrust finger of rock and thrown the other end into the canyon, Bo went on. “I’ll go down first. When I get to the bottom, I’ll give the rope a tug, and that’s how you’ll know to start down, Scratch.”
“Bueno,” Scratch said in agreement. He grasped the rope so he could feel the tug when Bo was finished with the descent.
Quickly, Bo went over the rest of the plan. “Scratch and I will dispose of any guards we encounter and get those crates from the storage shed. We’ll bring them back here one by one, and then Pepe can toss down the other rope. We’ll tie a rope around each end of a crate, and the three of you can haul them up. Everybody understand?”
The others nodded, and with a grim nod of his own, Bo swung over the edge of the canyon wall and began searching for handholds and footholds.
The darkness made the climb more difficult, since Bo had to feel his way down, but he was grateful for it anyway. In the thick shadows that cloaked the canyon, no one could see him, and he was careful not to dislodge any rocks that might clatter down and alert any guards that Davidson had posted up here at the canyon’s end.
The descent covered fifty or sixty feet, he estimated, but it took him a full half hour to make it. Scratch and the others were probably getting a mite worried, he thought as his sandaled feet finally touched the ground. He tugged on the rope and got an answering tug from Scratch. Then he stepped back and slipped out the borrowed Colt, leaving the old cap-and-ball pistol tucked inside his belt. A gunshot would ruin everything, of course, because it would echo down the canyon and warn Davidson and his men that trouble was on their doorstep, but he would fire if he had to in order to save his life or Scratch’s life.
Long minutes dragged by. Scratch was being careful and quiet about climbing down, too. At last, though, Bo heard the faint whisper of sandals on rock and then Scratch dropped down beside him.
“I ain’t all that fond of heights, you know,” Scratch breathed.
“Then it’s a good thing it’s so dark tonight. You couldn’t see where you would have landed if you’d fallen.”
Scratch grunted, and Bo knew his old friend was laughing. “Let’s go,” Scratch whispered.
They started down the canyon toward the mine, staying close to the wall and still taking it slow and easy. Bo sniffed the air with every few steps because he knew that most sentries couldn’t resist the urge to roll themselves a smoke every now and then. As late as it was, weariness and boredom were even more likely to have set in by now, and a man might risk firing up a quirly.
He figured they had covered maybe a quarter of a mile when he scented the faint aroma of tobacco smoke. Reaching out unerringly in the darkness, he touched Scratch’s shoulder. In the darkness, he could barely make out the nod Scratch gave him to signify that he had smelled the smoke, too.
They stood absolutely still for long moments, searching the shadows with their eyes and ears for the guard, or guards. Finally, Bo spotted the tiniest pinprick of orange light. The sentry was trying to hide his cigarette in his hand, but the coal on the end of it had winked out between his fingers for just an instant.
That was enough for the Texans. They began creeping toward the man with stealth worthy of an Apache or Comanche.
Their approach took several minutes, but at last they were close enough for Bo to hear the almost inaudible rustle of clothes as the guard shifted position just slightly. A second later, the man sighed tiredly, which helped Bo pin down his position even better. With the knife Evangelina had given him gripped tightly in his hand, Bo stepped forward and brought the blade up. He reached around the sentry with his other hand and clamped it over the man’s mouth as he drove the knife into his back.
Bo felt the blade scrape on a rib and then slide on through. The way the guard spasmed as Bo jerked him backward told him that the knife had penetrated the man’s heart. His death was almost soundless.
Almost, but not quite. A couple of yards away, a man said, “Hey, Rockwell, what—”
That was as much as he got out before Scratch struck. The Texans had dealt with this sort of danger many times in the past and operated with smooth efficiency. Scratch knew that it was his job to take care of a second g
uard, if there was one, so when the man spoke up, Scratch lunged forward and lashed out with the revolver he held. The gun butt crunched against the man’s skull with devastating force. The guard went down without another sound, and a quick slash across the throat as Bo knelt beside him finished him off.
Bo didn’t like this sort of killing, never had. But sometimes it was necessary, and he wasn’t going to lose any sleep over ridding the world of a couple of varmints like these two. He had no doubt in his mind that they had helped brutalize the people of San Ramon, he thought as he and Scratch collected the six-guns and the Winchesters carried by the sentries.
They didn’t let their guard down as they moved on toward the shed where the Gardner gun was stored. At least, that was where it had been a few days earlier, Bo reminded himself. They had no way of knowing whether or not it was still there. If it was, more sentries might be between them and it.
They didn’t smell any more smoke or hear anything else, though. Davidson was being cautious because the Texans had disappeared from the canyon somehow, but he couldn’t know where they were or even if they were still alive. The silence that lay over the canyon convinced Bo that the men he and Scratch had disposed of were the only ones who’d been standing guard.
The shed loomed ahead of them. Bo could make it out in the shadows, a deeper patch of darkness than what surrounded it. It was an open structure, with two sides, a roof, and the canyon wall itself forming the back wall. While Scratch kept an eye open for trouble, Bo slipped into the shed and began searching for the crates containing the parts of the machine gun.
It took him only a few moments of feeling around inside the shed to reach the exact conclusion that he was hoping to avoid.
The Gardner gun was gone.
CHAPTER 22
With the bitter taste of defeat under his tongue, Bo backed out of the shed. He leaned close to Scratch’s ear and breathed, “It’s not here.”
“Dadgum it! I was afraid of that. Davidson must’ve had Lancaster uncrate it and put it together.”
Sidewinders:#3: Cutthroat Canyon Page 16