Revenge Riders

by Alex Frew

  ‘There is an old tribal saying,’ said Hawk. ‘A man of stealth can do much hunting and kill more enemies than a man who rushes into battle. We are not going to win anything by going in there openly. When I spoke to old Betsy she told me there must have been at least fifty of them, all with horses and all armed. Now that is a small army in these parts, and they must have either taken the prisoners across the river and into Mexico or they have them holed up somewhere.’

  ‘You mean to a peasant village?’ asked Ryan.

  ‘Or something much bigger; we know the cattle trail goes past an old government building set into the hills, so that’s where we must go.’

  ‘To the camp?’

  ‘No, to the hills.’

  With regret, Hawk abandoned the buckboard, but not just by leaving it where it could be found by a casual passer-by – not that many of those were to be found around here – so he had it concealed deep in the woodland, and then he had the kegs of gunpowder loaded into panniers. The cannon was more of a problem but he made a travois with the help of his son, which was a kind of makeshift sled constructed out of fallen branches, and this was attached to ropes and towed behind a horse.

  Mack and McArthur were given the horses that had pulled the buckboard, and were warned that because of where they were there was a real chance that if they rode off on their own they risked running into bandit patrols.

  ‘Besides,’ Clay told them, ‘you run I’ll blow off yore darned heads.’

  Hawk was not just randomly taking them away from the cattle trail. He had lived in this county most of his life, he had farmed here, he had explored and he had hunted game in these hills with his father when times were hard, and he had the uncanny ability to memorise locations the way others remembered faces. Soon he discovered a pass that no one else would have known about unless they had an intimate knowledge of the district.

  ‘This is called Savage Wolf Pass,’ he said. ‘It’s where, one winter, some travellers were eaten by wolves. That was a terrible winter, I remember it well, and we lost a lot of cattle that year.’

  The pass was so narrow that only two horses could be led through at a time. Holt and Clay took up the rear while Hawk and Ryan led at the front. It was immediately clear that they were on an upward climb and the path on which they walked was uneven and littered with stones. Once or twice, not only the men but also the horses stumbled, and given that they were carrying gunpowder in their panniers this was not good news.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, although it was barely more than one, the pass widened out and they found that they were once more in a wooded area replete with ponderosa pines, silver birches and oak trees. They all seemed to breathe a little more easily but they were all aching and breathless because it had been a fairly steep climb.

  ‘What the hell was the point of that?’ said Scott, losing all caution.

  ‘I’ll show you, I’ll show all of you,’ answered Hawk, ‘just keep your heads low and back off immediately.’

  To their left was a stony ridge. He led them towards this and crouched down as he reached the side, signalling for them to do the same. They all obeyed, knowing instinctively that this was a situation in which none of the party wanted to be seen. Finding the bodies had been a grim warning that they were not on some Sunday outing, but now they were faced with stark reality.

  There, set back from the hills, with grey walls and manned guard towers, was Camp Brazos, the old prisoner of war building from the Civil War. They were almost level with the guard towers on that side of the building, and as Hawk pulled back so did the rest. They were so close that a loud shout from one of them could have been heard on the other side.

  They were in real, deadly danger, and their lives would depend on their actions over the next few hours.

  Hawk brought an object out from his breast pocket. It was a retractable spyglass, a good one, the top and bottom bound with brass. ‘Used to use this all the time when I was out with Pa,’ he said. ‘Helped keep an eye on the cattle. Some of them mavericks roamed far and wide.’ The rest had retreated now, but he made his way back to the bluff, lay on his stomach and surveyed the prison.

  He came back and looked at his companions. ‘They’ve opened the gates and it looks like they’re herding the villagers out.’

  ‘You mean taking them away again?’ asked Flynn, with a faint tone of asperity in his voice. ‘More trailing for us.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that at all,’ said Hawk, ‘they’re armed with shovels and picks – looks to me as if they’re heading somewhere.’ He waited for a while longer, with the rest of the riders looking on and waiting for what he had to say. He closed the eyeglass and pulled away from the bluff. His voice was low as he came back to the group and stood with them. ‘Time to go, I think,’ he said. ‘They’re heading straight for us.’

  This was not good news for a group of people who were exhausted, who had just arrived at the very spot where they thought they were going to be able to rest, but the guards pushing the villagers up the steep hill that led to where they were hiding were heavily armed, and would not hesitate to murder them on the spot. They could fight back, but they all knew that the attackers would have the advantage.

  Attack was also the best form of defence, but Hawk did not want to do this either since it would give their presence away far too early.

  He took the lead and led his horse through the pines and along the undulating landscape, once more finding a pass that led between two steep hills, looking back now and then to make sure the others were following. Once or twice Scott and Mack stumbled and there was a thud or two that made him frown, and the horses whickered a few times at protest in having to continue. He could only hope that the sounds of the prisoners, the shouting of the guards and the rising incline of the bluff from which they were retreating would hide the sounds from their would-be attackers. He was also worried about Yancey, who was making growls that sounded like the rumble of distant thunder. Yancey could very well go berserk and lead a one-man attack of his own, but luckily the big man was wedged between those at the back and Hawk in the lead, and seemed inclined to keep following the leader.

  At last the area opened up and they found they were in a sort of bowl between the hills, where the lush spring grass grew freely and there was a bit more heat in the air. More importantly, the sounds of the climbing people had vanished into the distance. This did not mean that they could not be found if they made too much noise and armed bandits appeared ready to shoot.

  ‘What the hell are they up to?’ asked Clay. ‘They got the prisoners, restored the prison, now they’re digging in the hills? It don’t make sense.’

  ‘The White Mines,’ said Hawk, with a thoughtful expression on his face. Naturally he and the others were mindful enough to talk in low voices.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Scott, with a guarded expression. Flynn shoved him in the back and the girl glared at him.

  ‘Rumours abound in these places,’ said Hawk. ‘The Civil War sure shook up everything around here. For years there was chaos and I remember the old camp when the last troops left – I was a boy at the time. But there was a time long before this, told in the legends of my people.’

  ‘Legends,’ snorted Flynn who was a practical kind of man.

  ‘Many stories have a basis in fact,’ said Hawk. ‘Indians have a way of looking after their world. If they dig in the earth for a mineral of any kind, they believe that something has to be returned to the earth, and it was said that the Cherokee around here had gold artefacts – ceremonial arrowheads, headdress decorations and the like – and it was thought they had traded the gold with other tribes from the south.’

  ‘That wasn’t the case?’ asked Ryan.

  ‘No, the true story that the new rulers never got to know was that the Cherokee in these lands had found a rich seam of gold inside the hills. One seam, but big enough for their purposes, but you see the Indians look on gold as being less precious than water or meat. It is no
t essential for survival,’ said Hawk. ‘They took enough for decoration, and went back from time to time for that which they needed.’

  ‘Seems you knew enough about it,’ said Flynn.

  ‘It was a story, passed down through the tribes,’ said Hawk, ‘like the story of how the moon was formed or why the sun god shines. They were called the White Mines because they were in the hills that shone so white in the rising sun.’

  ‘If this is true, why has it not come out before?’

  ‘The truth is, it did. But you must understand, even from my early years, this part of the US has been in turmoil. This land was once Mexican, and was taken over as part of the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. A lot of Mexican overlords would have wanted to get to the mines – they talked to the Indians a great deal more than the white man – but these lands are sacred to my brother ancestors and they would have had to fight the local tribes. That is not a problem they face today.’ He made the last remark without a trace of bitterness, but the men present knew exactly what he meant – or at least the other riders did. Along with the other Indian tribes, the Cherokee had been relocated to reservations even though it was rumoured that pockets of them could still be found roaming about these very hills. So it was unlikely that there would be anyone to defend their ancestral spots. It also explained why some of their old overlords had returned to exploit a place that was far from legend to them. A rich seam of gold that did not yield mere fragments could be worth millions.

  They all fell silent, knowing that in the bowels of the earth around them the villagers were digging to save their lives.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The night was the thing. The guards in the towers might have been watchful, but it was mostly towards the prisoners who might try to escape, and later on only the towers that overlooked the front of the prison were manned. In theory that should have given enough warning, but the towers at the back of the prison had hills behind them, and since it was spring the lush vegetation that grew in this area had sprang up beside the very walls of the building. It would have taken the work of many men to clear the area, and what immediately became clear to Hawk was that the invaders – whoever they were – did not have a huge amount of manpower.

  It was obvious that they were not going to retreat from where they were, but Ryan was wounded by the words of his father.

  ‘Rye, I want you to go back to Hatton Falls and tell what you have seen here. You have to let them know what’s going on; give them the layout of the prison and the numbers we have observed of the invaders, and take the girl with you.’

  ‘I won’t do it, I want to be here, and God knows what they’ve done to Lena and the rest.’

  ‘I know what you are saying, but your mission is the most important one of all. We’re fighting against those who have taken what is ours. They are ruthless killers and they will work those villagers to death in pursuit of what they want.’

  ‘I want to stay too,’ protested Abbey. ‘Those poor people . . . I don’t know what it’s like underground, but I know it will be hot, dusty, thirsty work. We have to help them.’

  ‘And what would it be like if they captured us?’ asked Hawk. ‘What would they do to a fine young lady like you?’ He spoke slowly and deliberately, looking into her face as he did so because he wanted to scare her. She blanched and pulled away from him.

  ‘No, I can’t have that,’ her hand fluttered to her face in distress. ‘I’ve already had what men can do to me.’ Ryan looked at her distress and knew that he could not be a party to making it worse.

  ‘All right, I’ll go, and I’ll take Abbey too, but once she’s safe and there’s a warning out, I’m coming back.’

  ‘In the meantime we’ll make a plan for action,’ promised Hawk, ‘and there will be an attack on these bandits. They can’t get away with this. If they do, they’ll come back and it will be even worse, I know their type.’

  By this time it was late in the afternoon, and as with all things there was no time like the present. Ryan and Abbey were kitted out with all that they would need to take them back to the village, and Hawk instructed his son to stay back from the trail and in the woodlands when they camped overnight. With two horses and barely anything to carry they would be back at the village before the middle of the day, and when they told their story to whatever posse had gathered, Ryan at least would be able to return with them long before the end of the next day. With that promise in mind, along with knowing that he was helping to defeat a dangerous enemy, Ryan made his way out of the encampment with Abbey. He looked back once as they went through the pass on the far side, leading their horses, and Hawk was standing looking at them. He saw Ryan and nodded once. Ryan nodded in return.

  As they descended to the woodlands below, they entered the most dangerous part of their mission, for they might alert those who had kidnapped an entire village. But it was the first day of working the mines and the militants had only a limited amount of manpower, which meant that they would be distracted by so much work for so few people.

  They were down on the edge of the woodland trail within about half an hour. The descent had not been without its problems, since they had often encountered steep stretches where the horses might have gone too fast and injured their legs.

  They were on the main trail with their steeds when there was a noise in front of them and a party of the bandits appeared. They were big men, and from the poles strung with antelope and rabbits that hung from their shoulders, it was obvious that they had been out hunting to supply the needs of the prison camp. If Ryan had been on his own he would have dug his spurs into the side of his horse and charged off, risking their shots, but the girl had frozen to the spot and she was not even on her horse. The group consisted of five bandits, and one of them, who was clearly the leader, was armed with a Winchester ’73 that he was pointing at the girl’s head.

  ‘Gringos,’ he said, ‘surrender and all will be well for you. Otherwise you die.’ Regretfully, Ryan got off his horse. He and his father had forgotten one salient fact: there would always be a hunting party in the forest because feeding so many people until all the gold had been located and mined would be a top priority. Even the prisoners would not be starved because they would be needed for their labour. By this time the other members of the hunting party had dropped the prey they had been gathering and had withdrawn fearsome looking handguns from their belts. The girl was still speechless now that their worst nightmare had come true.

  ‘We have it with her,’ said one of the bandits, looking at the girl’s young taut breasts as they strained against the fabric of her shirt.

  ‘No,’ said their leader, ‘Ramirez has first choice, you know that, and we need to get this food back.’ Their hands were tied and they were led off into ignominy.

  Up on the hill, spying on the prison with his eyeglass, Hawk saw his son and the girl being led into captivity and with a gut-wrenching certainty knew that by trying to make them safe he had put them on the greatest danger of all.

  ‘I’m going down there,’ said Hawk, ‘and if family means anything to you, Scott, you’re coming with me.’ It was later at night and it was getting towards darkness. Scott looked at the man who suddenly seemed to have gone mad, and for the first time he seemed to have a clear mind towards what was happening.

  ‘If you go down there and try to fire your way into an armed fort, you’ll die, and what’s more they’ll know there’s more of us and they’ll hunt us down and kill us too.’ Hawk stared at the young man, who had made a reasonable point. Hawk had a wild expression and looked more like one of his ancestors on his father’s side than ever, his Indian blood rising as he thought of the capture of his only surviving son.

  ‘No, that is not what I mean, and if you and Mack want to survive the rope you’ll do what I ask of you.’ Then he made his request.

  Their task would have been almost impossible if it had not been for the shape of the Pinto hills, but the fort was set in an undulating landscape and it allowed the three men
to do what they had set out to do, which was to distribute the kegs of gunpowder at different points in the building. To prevent a foot patrol from finding them with just a cursory look, Hawk had them covered with green leaves and set in close to the walls and had the other two do the same.

  He had Yancey carry a load of the kegs in a backpack, but did not allow the big man to come further along than the bottom of the hill. There was no one in the towers at the back, but even so Yancey was needed for his strength, not his ability to display stealth. With this in mind, the three men took four kegs each off him and moved along the side and back of the fort implanting them. The whole process took barely half an hour but it was a nerve-racking time for all three. However, Hawk knew that the young men were good at stealth, and they had the sharp eyes and the speed of youth. For all that, the three of them knew that if one guard spotted them the shooting would begin. They were helped, though, by the noise within the fort itself, because the bandits were celebrating their discovery of the white mines and their leader – whoever he was – was letting them do so in his own interests.

  They assembled back at the foothills behind the fort, not even daring to breathe more easily as Hawk led them away into the darkness. Without their leader the other three men would have stumbled around in what would have been an increasingly desperate situation. But Hawk had set down some hot embers in a spot further away from the fort. These were in a food tin that still glowed a faint cherry red. He used these to light some dry grass and lit a torch he had left in the same spot. With this he was able to lead them to another spot in the back of the hills where they were able to start climbing towards their camp.

  If the flame of their torch was seen they would be fired upon immediately, and the four of them felt as if they were hardly daring to breathe, but they kept climbing and at last they found they were back at their camp overlooking the prison where a low fire flickered between the trees.