Hard Edged (A Tony Masero Western)

by Tony Masero

  The rear exit opened onto a narrow alleyway that ran along the length of the building underneath the walls that backed the property.

  ‘I came over the wall,’ said Kennedy. ‘This way.’

  An armed Mexican appeared around the edge of the building behind him and Kennedy’s eyes rounded in fear as I raised my pistol.

  ‘What are you….’ he managed as I fired over his shoulder and dropped the figure.

  ‘Come on,’ I urged and dragged him on.

  As we raced alongside the wall another sentry appeared on the walkway above, I snap-aimed and fired and he curled over and head-dived into the alleyway before us.

  ‘Just down here,’ said Kennedy, stepping over the body and pointing at a series of steps up to the walkway.

  We raced up the steps as shouts of alarm followed us. A few shots spattered against the adobe walls and raised puffs of dust as we climbed onto the walkway.

  ‘Over the side,’ shouted Kennedy wildly.

  We hung by our fingers, bullets humming around us. The parapet crashed and crumpled under the impact of flying lead. It was a twelve-foot drop to the ground and I could see that Kennedy had thoughtfully left two ponies tied off below in the cover of a gully. We let go and dropped.

  Miraculously neither of us ended up with a twisted ankle or worse and we scampered over to the ponies.

  ‘Let’s go!’ I cried, whipping my beast into a rearing run.

  We raced in a wide circle around the hacienda, churning a cloud of dust as we went and made it to the bridge without a shot coming after us.

  ‘They’re not coming,’ cried Kennedy in surprise as we clattered in amongst the narrow streets that housed the town hovels.

  ‘No, they’ll have discovered that Carlos is dead by now. They’ll be too busy cleaning the place out. He’s more gold in there than the Federal Reserve’

  I slowed the pony to a walk and Kennedy came up alongside.

  ‘How’d you get here?’ I asked.

  ‘I came to tell you,’ he panted.

  ‘Tell me what?’

  ‘They killed Lefevre and took Annie May and Callie prisoner. I reckon it’s a ransom deal.’

  ‘Hell’s teeth! That’s what Carlos meant.’

  ‘He knew?’

  ‘Damned right he did, he’s been involved all along. He’s brokered a deal with Ace, the pair of them aim to take over our setup.’

  ‘And Ace put you in Carlos’s face? Why’d he do that?’

  ‘Ace wants it all for himself. He was hoping I would put Carlos out of the way, or if on the other hand, Carlos nailed me, then that would do just as well. Meanwhile he had a clear run at Annie May if it doesn’t work out as planned. Pretty damned masterful for someone like Ace.’

  ‘So what now?’ asked Kennedy.

  ‘I go get them both back.’

  ‘That won’t be easy with Gonzalez and Lefevre out of the running.’

  ‘No,’ I said, thinking it through. ‘I need a place to hide out until I can figure how to get to Ace. He’ll be well protected now, do you reckon you can find out where he’s holed up?’

  Kennedy pouted as he considered the problem, ‘I reckon,’ he agreed. ‘Why don’t you head for the old mill? You know that ruin on the Bellgrave Rise. I’ll find out about Ace and come get you there.’

  ‘Alright, just make sure he doesn’t have you trailed and will you bring me weapons and food when you come?’

  We parted company then, me for the hideout and he to do some detective work.

  Chapter Seven

  The Bellgrave Rise is a high sloping hillside and perpetually under a steady wind. That’s why they built the old windmill up there. A twenty-foot high solitary wooden structure, mostly a ruin and deserted now with the faceted outside covered with dry and curling wood shingles that were falling off like the scales from a dead fish. The sails were long gone and only the bare bones of the crosstrees remained in the crumbling roof to give it the look of a sad cross or grave marker. Enough of the interior was left for shelter though. There was no door and the few narrow windows were open to the elements but it gave a fine view of the approaches across the open country on all sides.

  A couple of outhouses had existed in the past but they were gone and only the stone foundations outlined their one-time presence. It was a lonely and bleak structure and as with all such places mostly shunned by folks now as if some creeping elemental spirit still lived up there.

  The view was one of rolling hills covered sparsely with thorny brush and patches of tough grass and swept clear of taller trees by the steady winds blowing up from the south. The sky was a clear blue without any cloud and the continuous wind was a rider on the nerves, it was cold too despite the sunshine.

  I stood outside leaning against the old wall on the sheltered side and thought about Annie May and our daughter. There was no reason Ace would harm them, he had a better advantage over me by keeping them alive but I fumed at the prospect of their capture and the wanton killing of Lefevre. Ace knew only too well how I cared for those two and it was the most obvious way to get me out in the open. The anger burned deep like hot coals in my belly and I could barely contain myself from hollering out in frustration.

  As the sky darkened the cold began to work its way into my old wounds with a dull ache that throbbed. I went inside and found a dusty corner beside the millstones to await Kennedy. There was no way I could light a fire, it would be seen for miles from the hilltop. But I was sharing space with the pony so I took his saddle blanket and wrapped it over my shoulders. I sat there hunched over and listening to the wind whistling eerily through the cracked timbers and fallen tiles and thinking rather solemnly how things had changed. One minute you’re riding high alongside a contented family with the prospect of a successful life free of the law and the next you’re a lone soul on the run and hiding out in ruined heap of timber. It seemed like I was never to escape the outlaw life and it was definitely a sobering proof of the vagaries of existence.

  As old Left-Eye used to say, ‘There ain’t nothing so confused as living, one minute you’re riding the mule and the next its riding you.’

  I must have fallen asleep as I jerked awake to the sounds of a solitary pony arriving. The plod of hooves and the jingle of harness brought me awake with a start. I had the pistol ready but there was no need as it was Kennedy that came in through the open doorway.

  ‘Here,’ he said, handing me an oilskin wrapped package. ‘I brought you some bread and cooked chicken and this too.’ He pressed a rolled ammunition belt with a Colt pistol tied down in the holster.

  I was damned hungry so I piled into the food right away. ‘Obliged, Kennedy. What would I do without you?’

  He smiled, I saw the flash of his teeth in the darkness. ‘Think nothing of it. There’s only the two of us now, we have to stick together.’

  ‘Did you find out where Ace is hanging?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s over at that train depot in Lamar Junction.’

  I knew the place it was single-track spur line that ran to a large warehouse and loading bay for the local cattle ranches over there.

  ‘You want some light in here? It’s black as the devil’s ass,’ said Kennedy. ‘I brought a lamp with me.’

  He flicked a match alight with his thumb and I bolted forward. ‘No!’ I cried, dashing the lit match from his hand. ‘It’s too easy to see up here.’

  ‘Oh, sure. I’m sorry, didn’t think. I was just….’

  The shot that hammered through the open window slammed into the remains of the mill workings behind us and blew a cloud of rotten wood into the air. My pony inside with us squealed and reared at the sudden intervention.

  ‘Hell!’ I burst out. ‘Were you followed?’

  ‘No, no! I was sure I wasn’t.’

  ‘Keep your head down,’ I ordered, strapping on the gun belt and knowing full well that they had picked up Kennedy’s trail, he never had been a deft hand in the scouting respect.

  More rifle fire came our way from
outside, all of it from further down the rising hill in front. With a moonless night out there they were shooting blind from lower down the slope and the bullets hammered high into the woodwork of the crumbling mill, screaming through the planking and causing explosions of wood all around us. Dust and splinters were filling the place from the decayed wood and both Kennedy and I lay flat on the dirt floor as the shooters made mincemeat of the place over our heads. Thankfully, they were firing from a lower angle and hadn’t adjusted their aim so that by the time the lead reached us it was way too high.

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ Kennedy observed desperately, and also rather obviously I thought. Like I didn’t know that!

  ‘Where’s your horse?’ I asked.

  ‘Outside by the door, if they haven’t plugged the critter.’ He peeked out through the door. ‘It’s here,’ he said.

  ‘Bring her in if you can.’

  There was a break in the firing and Kennedy reached out a hand and slipped the reins free and brought the pony inside, which it was only too eager to do, having just sat through a fusillade of shots all about its poor body.

  I was exploring around behind the cumbersome mill workings. They consisted of interlocked large wooden cogs that turned the twin millstones and were governed by a set of leather straps that had led up to the rotating sails to give the power. All of it was falling into disrepair, the dried-out cogs were split and warped and the leather straps brittle and hard. It didn’t take much to see that the rear wall was as perished as the rest of the place.

  One kick from my boot went straight through the old planks and shingle facing outside.

  ‘Help me,’ I said to Kennedy. ‘We make a hole big enough and we’ll get out this way.’

  The two of us set to and before long a jagged hole had been excavated from the wall and it was wide enough for us to get outside with the ponies if we went on foot.

  ‘Give me that lamp and the matches,’ I said.

  He handed them over and I lit the lamp. That set off another barrage of shooting from the party outside and I quickly opened the screw lid on the reservoir and threw the lamp at the front wall next to the door. The glass flute shattered and within seconds a bloom of light burst from the spilt lamp oil. It raced up the wall and the dry timber took hold almost immediately. With the wind howling through every crack in the place flames were roaring in seconds.

  ‘Now,’ I said. ‘We split up outside, run in different directions. It’ll keep them confused if they spot us leaving. Get going.’

  We led the ponies through the hole and were mounted up as a boom of explosive flame followed us. The torched windmill billowed with light, the leaping flames running fast up the inside and front of the old windmill it’s dry structure igniting almost instantly like matchwood. It soon became a tall curling, spark-ridden pillar of roaring flame, buffeted and blown about by the continuous wind. Enough, I hoped, to temporarily blind our attackers.

  I whipped the reins across the pony’s hindquarters and with a shout of farewell to Kennedy spurred the animal into the darkness.

  ~*~

  There was no point in wasting any more time so I headed directly for Lamar Junction. It wasn’t easy on a dark night so it was nigh on dawn when I finally arrived.

  The sky was lightening in the east and the warehouse building stood up black against the sky. I knew he would be in there and probably not alone. Damn though! I didn’t care. I was charged up after the fire and riding through the night. Any tiredness I might have had slipped away as I saw the silver lines of the railroad track ahead.

  I pulled up within sight of the siding, patted the sweating pony gratefully and checked the load on the Colt. Then I rode on down.

  Dismounting I left the pony tied off in a culvert on one side of the raised railroad track then went on foot the rest of the way.

  Coming up in front of me on the other side of the tracks was the warehouse and beside it a corral with seven ponies inside.

  Ace had left a guard outside, the guy had propped himself up on a stack of railroad ties next to the corral and was fast asleep. They obviously didn’t expect any trouble to come their way. I proved them wrong and slugged that sleeping fool hard enough to put him out for a month. My pistol butt clunked on his head with the sound of metal meeting bone and he came awake long enough to allow his eyes to roll up in his head before sliding sideways off the stack of ties to lie in a fetal heap on the ground.

  Then I made my way on tiptoe up the ramp and into the black opening of the wide warehouse door. It was a big barn-like affair this place, simple four-walled structure reaching up to a peaked roof about forty foot above. Inside the great space were a couple of smaller wooden sheds, kept aside for storage I guessed. One was a plain rectangle and the other a low, longer affair. Various examples of tackle hung around, some bull chains and lariats, various irons and bridles.

  It didn’t take much to find out where Ace had his men camped out, the sound of snoring was plain enough. It rattled and droned from inside the smaller of the two sheds. I tried the door and it opened easily. A wave of stale tobacco and last night’s whiskey reached out to me as I swung back the door.

  It was dark inside but I could see the rumpled shapes laid out on the floor, some of them under blankets and others couched up against their saddles. All of them were fully dressed except for their boots and they had their weapons propped against the wall beside them. Repeaters and shotguns rested in rows over the heads of the sleeping men.

  Ace wasn’t amongst them, I could see that right off and I guessed he was taking his ease as leader in the larger shed. That was his style.

  I had a choice and as I stood there looking them over I tried to make up my mind. It was either locking them all in there somehow or taking the whole bunch out with my gun and one of the repeaters. I picked up a Winchester and quietly cranked a shell into the chamber. As I did so I idly counted up the sleeping men.

  Four men.

  Seven horses in the corral.

  That can’t be right.

  I counted again. The guard I slugged outside and Ace, who must be sleeping in the other shed made two. There should be five of them in here, unless there was another guard wandering around somewhere. Or Ace had a man in there with him. Unlikely, as I knew ever since he’d been crammed in a prison cell with a giant bulldogging nancy boy, Ace was a fellow who preferred to sleep alone.

  I backed silently away.

  The resounding click of a hammer locking and the gun barrel boring into the back of my head told the whole story.

  ‘You just shed that rifle,’ said the voice behind me.

  I did as he asked and dropped the Winchester with a clatter on the floor and that caused a stir amongst the sleeping men.

  ‘Go to take a leak and its surprising what you find. Thought I saw someone sloping around outside,’ said the man behind me. ‘Are you Smoke Tallen?’

  The rest of the men were slowly coming awake and firing questions into the darkness.

  ‘You got that part right,’ I murmured to the fellow who had the drop on me. ‘That’s who I am.’

  Thing was, although he was close up and it seemed to him that he had me where he wanted me, he didn’t realize just how vulnerable he was back there. I knew where his gun hand was and in which direction the pistol was pointing, namely into the back of my skull. But this gave me an advantage.

  ‘You on your own?’ the man asked as I slowly raised my hands up level with my shoulders in a show of surrender.

  ‘Just me,’ I said. ‘But that’s all I need.’

  With that I whirled around, my left wrist knocking aside his pistol hand. The gun went of with a bang and a blast of muzzle-flash, which was double bright in the darkness but his bullet went sailing harmlessly away into the shadows.

  I carried on my body-swing in a semi-circle and hit him on the jaw with my bunched fist. The sock rocked him back on his heel and gave me time to pull out the Colt. By now the other men were scrabbling for their guns and hollerin
g fit to bust.

  I poked the Colt in the fellow’s belly and pulled the trigger. And all I got was a hollow click. A dud. Damn! It was a misfire. He was struggling now, trying to bring his gun hand around again as I levered back the hammer and pulled on another dud. What was this? A gun full of misfires!

  He pistol-whipped me then. Bringing his gun around in a wild swing that collided with my temple and brought a whole cacophony of stars into my brain. I staggered sideways and before I could do anything more I received another blow that felt like a rock had exploded inside my skull. My legs gave out from under me and I dropped to my knees. He must have hit me a third time, although I couldn’t tell you that for sure as by then I was gone and out of it.

  ~*~

  ‘What the hell are you playing at, Smoke?’

  It was Ace, easing me up in a chair that I was about to fall out of. My head was full of jumbled images and ached fit to bust. I shook it to clear my brain and wished I hadn’t. I blinked and looked up at Ace.

  ‘You took my family?’ I said.

  He spread his hands, ‘They’re here, they’re safe.’

  It was still dark although the lightening sky made it possible to make out the interior of the shed. It was the longer of the two and obviously was some kind of office normally used by the railroad staff. There was an empty desk and a couple of chairs, tally papers and notices hanging on the walls.

  We were alone in the shed, and I supposed the rest of his men were outside somewhere.

  ‘You had Gonzalez and Lefevre killed,’ it was no question just a statement of fact.

  ‘Smoke, Smoke,’ he said with a disarming grin. ‘Why are you such a dummy? You know it had to end this way.’

  ‘You piece of shit,’ I cursed. ‘After all we went through together.’

  The smile dropped from his face, ‘That was then. We were kids then, it’s grownup time now, partner.’

  ‘So, why not leave me just go my way. I’m no competition to you.’

  ‘But I liked the idea,’ he said the smile back on his lips. ‘The easy life. You had it right, Smoke. When you can make three times what we do by going straight in a year it’s got to be a better deal.’