by Clive Dawson
Now Frank saw the full pattern of events. Bellamy gave the orders, sitting in his office at the bank like a spider in the middle of a web, leaving no trail that pointed back to him. For some reason, the banker wanted all of the land around the town but that meant getting rid of the small spreads.
Undoubtedly, these killers formed part of his plan. Those ranchers who refused to sell out to him were to be either forced off their spreads or killed. Almost certainly, there were other businessmen in town who were in this with him.
By now, the solitary rider had come within a hundred yards of the riders. Frank saw him raise his right hand, bringing the group to a halt. Gigging his mount forward, the rider leaned sideways in the saddle, obvious in urgent conversation with the men at the front of the band.
By now, Frank had seen enough to confirm his worst suspicions. Taking care not to be seen, he inched the stallion over the rough ground at the base of the hill. Once he was sure he was completely out of sight of the riders, he gave the horse its head, riding swiftly back towards the trail.
A mile along it, he turned off and cut across the flat, stony ground in the direction of the Everley ranch, coming within sight of it twenty minutes later. Anne was standing on the porch when he rode up and swung down from the saddle. Noticing the direction from which he had ridden, she ran up to him.
‘Is there something wrong, Frank? You’ve obviously not ridden out from town.’
‘Is your father here, Anne? I have to speak to him urgently.’
She shook her head. ‘He’s still away trying to persuade the other ranchers to join us. I doubt if he’ll be back for another hour at least.’
Tersely, he said, ‘I’ve just ridden back from the hills. Those rumours concernin’ a bunch of outlaws riding this way happen to be true. I spotted them riding hard from the direction o’ the border. One o’ those killers hidin’ in the hills went out to meet ’em.’
‘Then there isn’t much time left.’ An expression of alarm crossed her face but it was gone almost immediately to be replaced by a look of determination.
‘My guess is that they’ll hit one, maybe two, of the spreads first, rather than the town. If they’re actin’ on Bellamy’s orders, they’ll try to wipe out all of you.’
He didn’t mention that since her father’s spread was the largest in the area, they might be the first to be attacked.
‘I’ll have two of the men ride out and bring in all of the hands.’ Her lips were pressed tightly together as she turned and walked over to the bunkhouse. Calling to two of the men she gave her orders in a crisp tone.
Waiting until they had ridden off, she led Frank into the house. ‘We’ve got plenty of guns and ammunition if they do decide to come,’ she said evenly. She walked to the window and stood looking out across the courtyard, her hands behind her back.
‘How many men does your father have workin’ for him?’ Frank asked, breaking the strained silence.
‘Fifteen.’ She turned suddenly and there was a fire in her eyes which Frank had never seen before. ‘None of them is a gunfighter, but they’ll give a good account of themselves.’
‘I’m sure they will.’ Frank nodded. ‘My guess is that outlaw band will make their play tonight. I’ll stay here. I’ve seen all o’ this before.’
CHAPTER IX
NIGHT ATTACK
Half an hour later, all of the hired hands had arrived back at the ranch. Standing on the veranda, Frank cast a critical eye over them as they rode in. As Anne had said, these were not gunfighters, but most of them looked as though they knew how to handle a gun.
Once they had dismounted, he called, ‘I reckon most o’ you men now know who I am and why I’m here. Curt Bellamy has sent for a band o’ gunhawks from over the border to attack the spreads around town. My guess is that this place will be the first they’ll hit. It’s one o’ the biggest and the one closest to those hills. Almost certainly they’ll come tonight when we’re least expectin’ it.’
He paused, watching the men’s faces as they absorbed his words. Most of them were expressionless.
Stepping up beside him, Anne said loudly, ‘I know my father hired you to herd cattle and if you stay here, there’s a good chance some of us will be killed. If any of you want to leave, you can ride out now. I’m sure my father won’t think any less of you, if you do.’
‘What do you intend to do, Miss Anne?’ one of them called.
Anne thrust out her jaw in a determined line. ‘I’m staying here with my father. He built up this spread from nothing, fought renegade Indians to keep it. We’re not going to run just because Bellamy wants to take it over.’
There was a low muttering among the men. Then one of them stepped forward. ‘I guess we’re all of a mind to stay.’
Glancing round at her, Frank thought he detected tears in her eyes. Then she said simply, ‘Thank you. Thank you all.’
Stepping down into the courtyard, Frank walked over to the men. ‘If those gunhawks do come, I reckon they’ll ride in along the track yonder where it narrows between those rocks. They’ll have to come in single file and I’ll take one o’ you men with me to cover their approach from either side o’ the track.
‘That way, we might take several of ’em down before they reach the courtyard. The rest o’ you will split into two bunches, one inside the bunkhouse and the other group in the house. From there, we’ll have ’em covered from both sides.’
One of the men took a step forward. ‘I’m the foreman here, Sheriff,’ he said, gruffly. ‘Herb Thompson. I’ll go with you to cover the track.’
‘Good.’ Frank gave a brief nod. ‘Now all we have to do is wait.’
It was a little while later when Jim Everley arrived. He had five men with him. As he stepped into the room, Frank noticed the worried frown on the other’s features.
‘I gather you didn’t manage to convince the others,’ Frank said soberly.
Everley poured himself a drink. ‘Clements sent these five men of his but the others are still talkin’ it over. I figure they recognize they’ll have to fight to protect their spreads, but they reckon these are just rumours spread around by Bellamy to frighten them off their ranches. It could be they’ll come but I wouldn’t stake my life on it.’
‘Then we’ll make do with the men we have,’ Anne declared defiantly.
For a moment, her father seemed on the point of saying something; then he clamped his lips tightly together and remained silent. Taking a couple of swallows of his drink, he looked around the room.
Two large mattresses had been placed just below the wide windows overlooking the courtyard. All of the remaining windows and doors had been locked and securely bolted.
Outside, the sun was going down leaving a scarlet flush along the horizon. Very soon, it would be dark. Standing at the window, Frank could see across to the bunkhouse, knew that the dozen or so men were already in position there. It was a stout wooden building. The walls looked capable of withstanding gunfire, giving the men inside plenty of cover.
The flat courtyard was large, bordered by rough ground with clumps of mesquite and Spanish sword growing in wild profusion. If those killers decided on a frontal attack there was plenty of open ground they had to cover before they reached the ranch.
The coarse vegetation around the courtyard perimeter would provide them with some cover. As for the other three sides of the building, he knew only what he had seen when he had ridden in. However, Everley had cleared most of the ground all the way around the place, probably when he had first built the ranch.
That had been at the time of the Indian Wars when it had been wise to leave plenty of flat, open ground on all sides.
Turning sharply, he nodded towards Thompson. ‘Guess we’d better get into position, Herb.’ he said quietly.
Following him outside, the foreman muttered, ‘You seem certain those critters will attack tonight, Sheriff. You reckon they’d be up to it after riding all the way from the border?’
‘They’ll come. Th
ere’s nothin’ as sure as that. They’re not the kind to play the waitin’ game. They’ll want to get this job finished as quickly as possible, collect their money, and head back over the border before they have the law on their tail.’
Reaching the edge of the courtyard, they walked a few yards along the track. Then Frank pointed towards the high ledge on the far side. ‘You get up there and keep your head down. I’ll take this side. Once they get within range, open fire. Don’t wait for any signal from me. Get as many as you can, then head back for the ranch. I’ll give you cover.’
Herb nodded to indicate that he understood, then crossed the track and hauled himself up onto the ledge, crouching down behind a wide overhang. Once he was in position, Frank pulled himself up among the boulders. Here, there was plenty of cover and he could make out every detail along the trail where it ran, perfectly straight, for more than a hundred yards.
Nothing moved out there and there was no hazing of dust in the air to indicate the approach of riders. The utter stillness all around him was heightened by the complete absence of sound. Inwardly, he was sure this was a signal of what was to come, a sign which the wilderness and the coming night heeded by their silence.
After a moment, he called softly, ‘You see anythin’?’
There was a momentary pause, then Thompson’s voice reached him from across the track. ‘Not a thing, Sheriff. Maybe they’ll wait until it’s fully dark, hopin’ to sneak up on us.’
Frank eased his legs into a fresh position as fingers of cramp tightened around his calf muscles. For what seemed the hundredth time, he checked the chambers of his Colts. He knew the waiting was beginning to rub his taut nerves raw, that both he and Thompson were in a precarious position.
Once they opened fire, it would not take long for these men to grasp what was happening. If either of them managed to get back to the ranch without collecting a bullet in the back, it would be a miracle.
Then his sharp ears picked out a sound. It was at the very limit of audibility but he instantly recognized it as that of approaching riders. He uttered a low whistle to alert his companion, saw the other stiffen and lean forward.
Lifting his head slightly, he pushed his sight into the darkening twilight. Several seconds fled before he discerned the dark shapes of the advancing men. They were coming on slowly, evidently wary, not sure of whether the news of their approach had gone ahead of them. In the lead was the big man he felt certain had ridden out to meet the outlaws.
Sighting the Colts, his fingers tight on the triggers, he waited tensely, hoping that Thompson would hold his fire until they got closer. He wanted them to get within the narrow stretch of track before firing on them. If they could spook the leading mounts within that confined space, they might gain precious time getting back under cover.
There was very little talking among the riders. Now and again, a harsh laugh would ring out, but that was all. If any of them suspected there might be an ambush waiting for them, they gave no outward sign.
Frank waited tensely until they were within thirty yards, then eased himself hard against the rocks and squeezed the triggers. Pandemonium broke out immediately among the foremost ranks of the outlaws. Across the track, Thompson joined in. Five men toppled from their saddles in the same number of seconds, not knowing what had hit them.
Harsh shouts rose from the others as they struggled to control their horses. Then their natural killer instinct took over. Slugs hammered against the rocks near Frank’s head, ricocheting into the distance with the whine of twisted metal. Swiftly, he pulled himself back. Riderless horses still blocked the narrow track as the men at the rear tried to force their way through. With no room in which to turn their mounts, their only hope was to keep Frank and his companion pinned down.
As their mounts reared at the sudden blast of gunfire, Frank sent two more men pitching to the ground then signalled to Thompson to head for the ranch. Less than twenty seconds had passed since they had opened up on the outlaw band but by now, he reckoned at least ten of the enemy had been killed or badly wounded.
He saw the foreman jump the remaining three feet to the ground, whirl swiftly and run back in the direction of the ranch house. Clawing his way down, Frank followed, weaving from side to side to present a more difficult target. Behind him, he heard someone yelling orders as the killers struggled to fight their way free of the rocks.
He was halfway across the courtyard when he saw Thompson, a couple of feet ahead of him, suddenly go down. Swiftly, he bent beside the foreman. ‘Where are you hit?’ he rasped.
‘In the leg,’ he groaned. Herb tried to stand, teeth clenched with the pain. Swiftly, knowing those gunhawks would soon force their way through to end of the track, Frank bent, caught him by the arms and one leg and swung him across his shoulders. A couple of slugs hummed dangerously close to his head as the outlaws broke out towards the courtyard.
Thrusting himself onto the veranda, he somehow reached the door. Anne stood there, holding it open for him. Without missing his stride, he ran in and lowered the injured foreman onto the couch. Anne had already slammed the door shut, placing a thick wooden bar across it.
‘Man those windows!’ Frank called. ‘My guess is they reckon there are only a few in here, so they’ll try to rush the place in a frontal assault.’
Several men flung themselves down onto their knees behind the mattresses, smashing the glass of the windows with their gunbutts. Behind him, Everley ran his hand across the top of the single lamp, extinguishing it immediately.
Running forward, Frank dropped to his knees and risked a quick glance through the window. The remaining riders had now dismounted, leaving their horses along the trail. They had spread out and were moving swiftly around the perimeter of the courtyard, keeping low. Swiftly, Frank aimed at a moving figure. He saw the man stagger, lurch on for a couple of paces, then fall onto his face into the dirt.
Swinging the Colt, he took rapid aim at a second man but the shot missed as the man dived for cover behind a thick bunch of Spanish Sword. Thrusting fresh shells into the chambers, he said loudly, ‘Don’t waste your ammunition shootin’ at shadows. They’ll make a rush for the house soon. When they do that, we’ll catch them from two sides.’
Outside, there was silence. It was evident the men there were waiting for a signal. It came a couple of minutes later in the form of a single pistol shot. Under covering fire from the rear, six men got to their feet and raced towards the ranch house, firing as they came.
Frank shot one before he had taken a couple of steps. At the other window, Herb had grabbed a Winchester and, in spite of his injured leg, was firing rapidly and accurately at the running men. Only two got within ten feet of the house. One loosed off a couple of shots, then ducked down behind the veranda. The other one came rushing forward, Colts in both hands, firing as he ran.
Frank heard the wicked hum of a slug passing close to his cheek before it smashed into the opposite wall. Then the Colt in his left hand spat gunflame. The man threw his arms high as if reaching for the sky. His guns slipped from his fingers as his momentum carried him forward until he was lying limply over the porch rail.
Keeping his head and shoulder hard against the wall at the side of the window, Frank watched the veranda. He knew the second man was still there, pinned down, but dangerous. The enemy under cover at the far side of the courtyard continued to pour a fusillade of shots at the building but now they came under fire from the men in the bunkhouse.
A minute went by and then the man made his move, almost taking Frank by surprise. Keeping well down, he had worked his way some three feet to the left. Now he suddenly leapt to his feet, covering himself with the body of his companion, still hanging over the veranda rail.
Uttering a wild, inarticulate yell, the gunman loosed off a volley of shots, triggering his Colt rapidly. Two men a short distance from Frank fell back and lay still. Twisting from the waist, Frank tried to bring his gun to bear. He glimpsed a bearded face, twisted into a mask of fury, lips dr
awn back across tobacco-stained teeth. Shielded by the dead outlaw’s body, the gunhawk swung his weapon to bring it to bear on Frank’s chest.
Before he could squeeze the trigger, the gun in Frank’s hand spat a lance of blue flame through the darkness. The bullet took the outlaw between the eyes. For a moment, he hung there, striving to keep enough life in his body to squeeze the trigger. Then he uttered a long, rattling sigh. The gun dropped onto the porch and he slumped back out of sight.
Sucking a harsh gasp of air into his chest, Frank crouched down and reloaded the Colts as more gunfire racketed across the courtyard. The sound of more shooting came from other directions and he knew some of the enemy had swung round to surround the ranch.
Anne edged her way towards him, throwing herself to one side. Her face was a pale blur in the darkness. ‘Do you think we have a chance of holding them off, Frank?’ she asked in a low murmur.
‘We can hold ’em off for a while,’ he replied grimly. ‘I reckon we’ve killed more’n half of ’em. I figure they hadn’t banked on facin’ so many of us. They won’t try to rush us again, but soon we’re goin’ to be runnin’ short of ammunition.’
Outside, the gunfire had died away. Sharply, Everley called, ‘Cease your firin’, men.’
Leaning towards the girl, Frank said softly, ‘I want you to check the other rooms, see how many men have been hit.’ As she moved away, he added, ‘And keep your head down and stay well away from the windows. That lot out there ain’t finished with us yet. I reckon that right now, they’re figurin’ out what to do next.’
Without a further word, Anne slipped away into the darkness. When she had gone, he turned back to the window, peering cautiously into the dark shadows thrown by the moon.
He could see nothing moving. Evidently those men were keeping under cover, knowing they had come up against more than they had counted on.
As if divining his thoughts, Everley said, ‘What do you reckon they’ll do now, Frank? They’ll already know from Bellamy that we can’t expect any help from the town.’