Border Dogs

by Ralph Cotton

  He looked down at Dirkson, saw him struggle up to his feet with Bowes’s help, and lean against his horse’s side. “I’m going with you, Major. No need in discussing it.”

  Zell nodded, getting into his saddle, Bowes and the others following suit. One man stayed on the ground long enough to help Dirkson up onto his horse, then he turned and mounted. “We’ll swing wide to the left and come in above the canyon,” Zell said. “It will take us a few minutes longer, but we’ll keep whoever’s there pressed beneath us. Let’s hope he and the Parkers have already come upon one another.”

  Bowes watched Zell raise an arm in the air and motion the men forward. “Are you going to be able to keep up?” Bowes asked the old man, sidling near him as the others moved past them on the trail.

  “Damned right I am. Just watch me.” Dirkson’s voice sounded weak, but determined. “I want to be there when we catch up to McCord and the Parker’s. I owe them for this bullet in the chest.”

  “Then let’s ride,” Bowes said, and he reached out and slapped the old man’s horse on its sweaty rump, sending it forward.

  “Hurry!” Maria called over her shoulder in the darkness. The two women slid the last few feet down the steep slope through the dust and loose rock, until they both rolled forward into the campsite.

  “My God,” Prudence gasped, seeing what was left of Delbert splattered on the side of the canyon wall. The spot where the campfire had been was now nothing but a charred crater in the sandy ground. Tied within the shelter of a rock crevice, the soldiers’ horses whinnied and shied, pulling at their reins. Dust still billowed in thick choking clouds. Maria jerked the reins free, then held them firm, settling the horses and leading them out. The horses resisted, still rearing slightly and sidestepping in fear. A few yards away, the bodies of the federales lay broken and twisted. One of them moaned, his bleeding hand clawing forward in the sand toward the dust-covered saddlebags.

  “Sorry,” Maria said, reaching down with her free hand and dragging the saddlebags back from his reach. He raised his torn face a few inches off the ground, turned his eyes up at her, pleading something under his breath, then his face dropped down into the dirt. Maria looked around and spotted a dust-covered canteen. She pulled the horse forward to it, snatched it up by its strap, and swung it over her shoulder. “Look for more water,” she called out to Prudence. The horses had settled a bit, but they were still blowing and whinnying under their breath.

  Prudence hurried, coughing in the thick dust, fanning her hands about her face. She found another canteen near one of the soldiers’ bodies and slipped the strap over her shoulder. A pistol also lay in the dirt. She picked it up, shook it free of dust, and tried cocking the trigger. Damn it! It was jammed. But she shoved it down the front of her torn dress anyway.

  “Help me with these, quickly,” Maria called out to Prudence, dragging the saddlebags across the dirt.

  “You bet,” Prudence said, her eyes glowing at the prospect of so much gold in one spot at arm’s length.

  “Hold on to these.” Maria handed her the reins to the horses. When Prudence took them and steadied herself against the horses bobbing their heads and resisting her, Maria hefted the saddlebags up with both hands and managed to sling them across one of the horse’s back. She tightened the bags down with saddle ties, then moved around to Prudence and took the three sets of reins from her hand. “Mount up! We must get out of here!”

  Prudence coughed and fanned, struggling up into a saddle while the horse shied a step sideways. Maria swung up onto the back of the horse with the saddlebags across its rump, tightly holding the reins to the third horse. “Do not stop until we have reached the flatland,” she called out. “It will be daylight soon. Hurry, please! You must keep up with me!”

  Eyeing the saddlebags full of gold as Maria spun the horse toward the trail, Prudence said, “Don’t worry, sister. I’m right behind you!” Together they batted their heels to the horses’ sides and shot out through the dust into the thinning night.

  * * *

  A thousand yards behind them, McCord called over to Leo Parker as they raced their horses forward, “What could it have been? It sounded like a cannon shot!”

  “I don’t know, damn it to hell! If Delbert screwed something up, I’ll kill him!” He slapped the reins across his horse as they plunged ahead in the darkness. Paschal, Juan Verdere, and the federales rode hard, keeping up with them. Before they’d heard the explosion, they had found the wagon where the women had left it in the brush alongside the trail.

  Captain Gravia had ordered two men to unsaddle their horses and hitch them to the wagon to pull it back to the campsite. They had just started doing so as the captain and the others reeled in their saddles, seeing the flash of light from the direction of the campsite. “You two stay here and finish!” Captain Gravia had called out. “The rest of you follow me!”

  As the two men finished hitching the horses to the wagon and had started to climb up into the wagon seat, they stopped at the metallic sound of a hammer cocking, and slowly turned toward it. One of them carefully placed a hand on the pistol butt at his side, looking all around, searching the darkness.

  From within the darker shadows of mesquite brush, the voice of Sergeant Baines said in a low, level tone, “Don’t even think about it. You’re covered. Step down and raise your hands.”

  But the two soldiers would have none of it. One yelled out to the other, and both of them reached for their pistols. Two shots from Baines’s army Colt exploded in the darkness. One soldier fell back against the side of the wagon and crumpled to the ground; the other soldier sank straight down on his knees, rocked sideways, then collapsed, pitching over sidelong into the dust.

  “Damn foolish young troopers,” Baines said, speaking down to the dead hollow eyes, leading his horse out of the dark shadow. “You needn’t have done that. I only came for the wagon.”

  He tied his horse to the rear of the wagon, looked down again at the dead federale soldiers, and shook his head. He dragged the bodies away into the brush and picked up their caps. He dusted them against his leg and placed them on the mesquite bush marking the spot. Then he wiped his hands together and jumped into the wagon.

  In a moment, the horses had pulled the wagon out of sight, higher up along a trail into the towering rocky land. At a point where the trail forked, Baines stopped the wagon and heard creaking leather and the sound of hoof against stone. Silently, he climbed down from the wooden seat and crouched beside the wagon, his army Colt drawn and cocked.

  When the sound came again from the thinning darkness, Baines caught a shadowed glimpse of a horse moving toward him. “Don’t shoot,” cried the voice from atop the horse, the man’s hands up chest high, his face blacked out beneath the wide hat brim. “I’m unarmed…coming in.”

  “Stop right there. Who are you?” Baines asked, searching the darkness behind the rider, but seeing nothing there. In the east, pale silver-gray light mantled the horizon. Morning was coming fast.

  “I’m Willis Durant,” the voice said. “I’m not one of Zell’s men. Are you?”

  Sergeant Baines considered the question for a second. Whoever this man was, he’d just taken a big chance, identifying himself that way. All right, Baines thought, maybe it was time to take a chance himself. The rider had stopped when Baines told him to. Now Baines glanced around one more time, crouched farther down, ready for anything, and replied, “Sergeant Baines, United States Army.”

  “So you’re Baines,” the voice said. “We heard about you from two soldiers—Elerby and Dubbs. We’re sure glad it’s you out here.” Willis Durant mentioned the soldiers by name, hoping it would settle the sergeant.

  Baines thought about it. The man had said we. Not I, but we. Twice. “Who’s with you?” Baines asked, searching the shadows.

  “I’m traveling with a Ranger. Don’t get spooked, but he’s behind you.”

  Baines jerked a glance over his shoulder, his finger ready on the trigger. He could see only black shad
ows among the rocks. “All right then, let’s hear from you,” Baines said.

  “I’m back here, Sergeant Baines,” the Ranger said, nothing but a quiet voice from somewhere in the darkness. “I’m Ranger Sam Burrack. We’re after the same thing out here. I came to get the hostages. Let’s all move easy, show who we are at the same time. Does that sound fair to you?”

  Before Baines could reply, something small landed at his feet with a clinking metal sound; he looked down at the Ranger’s badge and let out a breath. “Sounds fair enough,” he said, running a moist hand across his damp forehead. He straightened and stepped out from the shadow of the wagon, his pistol still in his hand, but away from his side, pointed down.

  “One of those hostages is Maria, the woman I’ve heard about—she rides with you, right?” Baines watched as the Ranger moved forward a step, out of the blackness, his big pistol pointed at the ground, his duster open and loose, the outline of his battered sombrero standing tall in the morning light.

  “You’re right, Baines,” the Ranger said.

  “I knew it,” Baines said under his breath. He’d kept his thumb over the hammer of his Colt, but now he let it down, relaxing his grip. “I tried telling my lieutenant…couldn’t make him understand. All he can see is what a feather it would be in his hat, saving Prudence Vanderman. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to bring down Zell. Tell me what you want done.”

  “I appreciate it,” the Ranger said. “Sergeant, you’ve done a good job tracking these men. But you can go on back to your company now. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Not on your life, Ranger. If it’s all the same, I plan on riding this thing till it’s over. Zell doesn’t know it, but he and I have some old unfinished business. We go all the way back to Peach Orchard.” Baines reached down, picked up the Ranger’s badge, and handed it back to him.

  “I see. So it’s more than just the hostages to you.” The Ranger took the badge, wiping it on his duster and pinning it on his chest. He offered a thin smile. “I figured you’d want to finish this out for your own reasons.” He nodded at Willias Durant as Durant stepped forward, leading his horse. “The man behind you is my prisoner. He broke from jail, and now he’s after the Parker Brothers for killing his family.”

  Baines turned and looked Willis Durant up and down.

  “Looks like we’re all three in the same game for different reasons,” the Ranger said. As he spoke, he reached behind his back, took out Tackett’s pistol, and after checking it, he pitched it to Durant.

  Durant caught the pistol, looking surprised. “But you said—”

  The Ranger cut him off. “I know what I said before. I changed my mind. We’re close to the heart of this thing now. You want the gun or not?”

  Durant spread a tight smile. He checked the pistol himself, rolled the cylinder down his forearm, tested the action, then shoved it down in his belt. “Ready when you are, Ranger.”

  “It’ll be full daylight soon,” the Ranger said. “I figure the first ones we’ll deal with will be Zell and his bunch, come sun up. Any problem with that, Durant?”

  “No.” Durant shook his head slowly. “I’ll back whatever play you make…until it comes to the Parkers. Fair enough?”

  The Ranger nodded, looking back and forth between them. “Let’s move then,” he said, “and get this thing settled.”

  Chapter 16

  Not knowing how far ahead of them McCord and the Parker brothers had gotten in the darkness, Paschal sidled his horse close to Juan Verdere, took Verdere’s horse by its bridle, and checked both their horses down. “Let go! What are you doing?” Verdere wrestled with the reins, but Paschal held the bridle firm.

  “It is a terrible mistake to go into the canyon with those men,” Paschal said. “Stay back with me. I trust none of them.”

  “But what about our pay? What about Gravia and his men?”

  “We wait and see,” Paschal said in a firm tone. “Too many things are going wrong. Let them straighten this out…then we will see where we stand.”

  Juan Verdere sat his horse still, the two of them seeing the last of Gravia’s men follow the others into the black mouth of the canyon. “Yes, Paschal, I think you are right. There is more at stake now than us getting our money.”

  At the campsite, Payton Parker looked around wild-eyed, yanking his reins back hard, his horse lowering almost down on its haunches. “Jesus H. Christ!” he shouted to Leo and McCord. “Look at this place!” Behind them, the sound of Gravia and his men thundered in along the canyon trail. Charred and smoldering bits of wood from the exploded campfire still glowed among the rocks surrounding them.

  “Those women? They did this?” McCord looked around at the grizzly sight of Delbert’s body plastered to the canyon wall. “My God, look at Delbert!” Gravia came in ten yards behind them, raising a hand, cautioning his four remaining men.

  “To hell with Delbert,” Payton Parker said, stepping down from his saddle, McCord and Leo doing the same. “Where’s the damn gold?”

  “They blowed up the gold?” Leo looked bewildered. “Why would anybody blow up sacks of gold?”

  “Hell, no! They didn’t blow it up! They took it, you squirrel-eyed idiot!” Payton raged. “No wonder Pa always said he wished he’d pitched you in the wood stove!”

  “I never heard Pa say—”

  “Just shut up, Leo!” Payton rubbed his hands on his face and shook his head in thought.

  “What now?” McCord stepped close to Payton Parker, nodding toward Gravia and his four men. They’d dismounted and came walking forward now, their weapons up and ready. “This is going to take some tall explaining,” McCord whispered.

  “I ain’t explaining a damn thing,” Payton said, reaching out and grabbing Leo by his forearm, pulling him around to face the federales. “Keep close now…pay attention here.”

  “I am through with you and your games, gringo,” Marsos Gravia said. “Where is the gold, you fool?”

  “As you can see, it ain’t here right at the moment.” Payton Parker spread a hand, making a sweeping gesture. “You tell me where it’s at.”

  Gravia thought about the wagon load of ammunition back along the trail, wondering if this was all some sort of trick. “We have the ammunition. You better pray nothing has happened to it when we get back there.”

  That’s not my problem right now, Capi-tan, that’s yours,” Payton said. “My problem is that we brought you the ammunition, just like we said we would—now where’s our pay? We ain’t leaving without some gold.”

  “Jesus, Payton,” McCord whispered, “don’t push it. We’re outnumbered here.”

  “We brought you the gold,” Gravia said to Parker, his voice getting more and more testy. “I do not know what craziness has caused you to lose it.” Marsos Gravia looked around in the darkness, past his four men, and back along the empty trail behind them. “Where is Juan Verdere and the Frenchman?” He sounded suspicious.

  “Beats the blue hell out of me,” Payton said. “Don’t suppose this is all their doing?”

  “No.” Gravia turned and faced him, his hand tight around his big pistol. “I think it is all you…you and these two gringo fools with you. So what do we do now?”

  Payton gave a wild, crazy grin. “Boys, there ain’t but one thing left to do now.”

  Marsos Gravia saw the pistol coming up out of Payton Parker’s holster, Payton’s horse jumping to the side as if knowing what was happening. Gravia cocked his own pistol on the upswing, moving fast. But not fast enough. Payton’s first shot hit him in the forehead, spraying blood and brain matter on the four men behind him as Gravia slammed backward into them. The men responded, but not from a good position, as their dead leader was in their way.

  McCord and Leo fired fast and kept on firing, most of their rounds hitting the young soldiers before they could make a stand. Payton Parker yelled and fired, moving forward, taking a graze across his forearm, but not slowing down until his pistol was empty and the soldiers were down in the di
rt. Smoke rose and hovered above them.

  In a second, it was over. In the ringing silence that followed, while Payton Parker reloaded his pistol, one of the soldiers looked up from the dirt and moaned, stretching a hand toward Payton’s boot. “Merced, señor…por favor, merced!”

  Payton chuckled, jerking his boot back away from the soldier’s bloody hand. “What’s that, huh? What? Oh…well, to hell with you and your mama too.” He spun the pistol on his finger, caught it, cocked it, and fired one round straight down into the soldier’s face.

  “You didn’t have to act like that, Payton,” Leo said. “He was only asking for mercy—he was dying anyway.”

  Payton shrugged and grinned at Leo. “So? Then what harm did I do?”

  They stood looking at the dead on the ground. “Well, boys,” Payton said after a moment’s pause, “we might not do everything just right, but when it comes down to it, damned if we ain’t the awfulest killers there ever was.” He laughed and spit, running a hand across his mouth.

  “This wasn’t right, us having to do this, Payton,” Leo said. “I don’t see nothing funny about it.”

  “Well…that’s how you are, brother. You say the same thing every damn time we kill somebody. I swear, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.” Payton shook his head, walking back to his horse.

  McCord let out a breath, shoved his pistol into his holster, and said, “So, it looks like we’re screwed to the wall on this deal, huh?”

  “Naw, we just got to get that wagon and take it on in somewhere. The federales will still want it. We’ll just have to be careful how we handle it.”

  “Let’s get back to the wagon then, before something else goes wrong,” McCord said. He’d already made up his mind—once he got what was coming to him—he was through with Payton Parker. He never wanted either one of these sons-a-bitches near him again. He started to step up into his stirrup, but Payton caught his arm and stopped him.