Gun (A Spur Western Book 8)

by Matt Chisholm

  There was something about that crazy moment. They were hot and dusty and there was mortal fear in both of them. It was as though they were drunk on the danger of the moment. Certainly, for a moment, the barriers were down. It seemed so wonderful to Charlie Doolittle that he had her alive beside him that his emotions gained the upper hand. As he lay there in cover, his arm was about her waist and he held her close to him. Her face was against the stubble of his chin. He could feel her breasts, firm yet soft, against him.

  ‘My God, girl,’ he whispered hoarsely. He kissed her dusty cheek. She turned her head and their mouths came together. It was the craziest time to kiss that he had ever known. Her arms tightened around him and she said: ‘Thank heavens for Charlie Doolittle.’

  ‘We mustn’t forget,’ he said with wry humor, ‘that you’re bespoken.’

  She touched his face with a hand and said: ‘Right now there isn’t much in the world except Charlie Doolittle and me.’

  ‘The moment of truth,’ he said lightly.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  He laughed and he marveled at himself being able to laugh.

  ‘This isn’t the time for dalliance,’ he said.

  ‘Dalliance?’ she said, smiling. ‘I thought you were serious.’

  ‘As it’s the time for truth,’ he said, ‘you’d best know I’m so

  durned serious, if it wasn’t for those men down there ‘

  She interrupted.

  ‘As it’s the time for truth, if it wasn’t for those men down there, I wouldn’t be fit to marry Samuel P. Spur.’

  Voices started to sing in Charlie Doolittle’s head.

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he promised.

  He unslung the revolver from his shoulder and said: ‘Check it. You’re going to need it before we’re through.’ She took the gun from leather with hands that were used to guns. She checked the loads and said: ‘Five shots.’

  His eyes met hers and he said: ‘Save one at the end.’

  ‘Two,’ she said. ‘They’ll not take either of us.’

  He reached out and patted her hand.

  ‘It hasn’t come to that yet.’ He looked downhill and could see nothing move. This could be the end for both of them, yet somehow his heart was light. ‘Only two of them have guns. These belong to Gaylor. Maddox has maybe given him a belt-gun. If we kill just one of them, we have a chance.’

  ‘How many rounds do you have?’

  ‘A few in the rifle. Eight more shots in my pocket.’

  ‘That isn’t a lot.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. But it only takes one round to kill a man.’

  They lay there in the heat, close together, waiting.

  Chapter Nineteen

  An hour passed.

  During that time, Charlie Doolittle saw no more than glimpses of the men who wanted him and the girl. He knew they were slowly working their way in closer and closer, yet Charlie didn’t fire a shot and neither did they. Both sides were being careful with their ammunition. Charlie wanted every shot to tell.

  He felt the girl’s hand on his arm.

  ‘Charlie, did you hear that?’

  He listened.

  Faintly, he heard the sound. There were horses coming. They looked at each other. Both knew at once that the sound could mean the end of this, either in favor or against themselves. He saw the girl’s face light with hope.

  They lay and listened to the sound come closer and pretty soon they could see the riders. Doolittle counted them. Five of them. He could recognize none of them at this distance. Yet his mind immediately took the fact that there had been five men beside Wayne Gaylor in the Sunset jail. He would soon know if he was right.

  There was consternation down below. There was a shout and he guessed it came from Wayne Gaylor. Doolittle strained forward to see better. There was a man moving through the rocks down there, heading toward the horsemen. Maddox. Doolittle readied his rifle, praying for a good target.

  The girl said: ‘They’re Maddox men.’

  ‘I reckon.’

  He looked at her and he knew that she was on the verge of tears. They had the faintest of chances with only three men against them. With the newcomers, they were finished for sure. He debated whether they should make a run for it, but he knew they didn’t have a chance. The mounted men would run them down in no time at all. The only small chance they had was to stay there till nightfall and creep away after dark.

  Maddox was on his feet, walking in the open, out of range. He waved to the oncoming horsemen and a moment later they met. They talked for a while and the men looked up at the ridge on which the man and girl hid. Maddox was giving orders. The riders started to move. Two of them headed east. They were going around behind. Doolittle knew that their chances of getting away under cover of dark were almost nil now.

  He started to ask himself if he couldn’t talk to Maddox, somehow make the man see that there was no profit in this. After all, why did the man want them dead? What had he to gain now? He was as good as safe now. Except if Spur was on his trail. Damn Spur. There was no call to kill Doolittle as a witness or anything of that kind. But he suspected that Maddox was crazy. If only Doolittle could kill a couple of men maybe that would run the sand out of them. These fellows had been broken out of jail and they wouldn’t be in the mood to die for the sake of knocking off a man and a girl they scarcely knew. Yet he knew that he was arguing to no purpose.

  The three mounted men remaining were dismounting and scattering through the rocks. It couldn’t be long now.

  He looked at the girl and she smiled.

  Chapter Twenty

  Spur was an anxious and tired man. He had been in the saddle for a long time without rest and the girl and her fate was perpetually on his mind. The mare had covered more miles than he cared to think of, miles that would have killed a lesser horse. Yet the little animal stayed at a steady pace in spite of the fact that she had eaten and drunk little in the last twenty-four hours. Like the man, she battled with the heat and kept going on stamina and guts. Spur knew that his only chance lay in the probability that the horseflesh of the men he followed was not up to his. The mare and her quality had saved him before in bad situations and he relied on her to pull him out of this one.

  His rations were now very low and he had not touched water since dawn. If he didn’t hit water pretty soon he and the little mare would be in poor shape. But the game animal hammered on steadily south. He thought that by now he was well south of the Border. He was now a private citizen in a foreign country. His badge no longer protected him. He didn’t let that fret him. He had survived in danger for a good many years on the wrong side of the law.

  It was when he came to Maddox’s last camp that he knew he had struck gold.

  The men had stopped to camp here, yet they had not made camp. There was some of their gear strewn around, yet they had gone on. There was a mess of sign which was so tangled up that it was almost impossible to read. The only thing that was clear to him was that they had all ridden out and they had gone east. He walked the mare into the hills after he had let her drink at the water nearby.

  After a while, the tangle of the sign started to unravel itself. Gradually, it became clear to him that two of the horses had broken away on their own and the three others had been after them. These two horses puzzled him. One looked as if it had been ridden, the other was being led. Why should a man, or woman, escaping take a led horse with them? Hope started to rise in him. Had the girl managed to escape?

  Then, after careful searching, he realized that the hunters had not found the hunted. Not around here, any road. He found the spot where Netta had halted with Doolittle, but he could not be sure that it was Doolittle. All he knew was that a woman had been here with a man who had lain down on the ground. She had been to the water below and the man had also been there, probably a little later. He found where they had walked the horse. They had filled up with water and then headed into the hills. So, she had a man with her. He couldn’t be dead sure tha
t the woman was Netta, but he had a hunch it was. It had to be. And the man was not her captor, of that he felt sure. He felt a little relieved that she was not alone.

  He had lost time over searching for and reading the sign. He found where the pursuers had picked up their trail and followed. It was hard to tell in this dry country how far behind the pursued the pursuers were. He found some series of horse droppings and they were all pretty dry and told him little. Now he must hurry.

  He was about to urge the mare forward when he heard sounds behind him. At once he ran the little horse into cover, took the carbine from leather and crept back to watch his back-trail. He came out above the trail on some rocks and saw two riders coming toward him.

  To say that he was a man flabbergasted would be to put it mildly. He was floored and wordless. The two riders were Juanita Morales and the Basque, Inaki Cilveti.

  He stood up and nearly got himself shot. Two guns came up to point at him. When they saw who it was, they halted. He climbed down to the trail and walked toward them. The girl eyed him. She knew he was mad and she didn’t care. A woman also could be mad.

  ‘Samuel,’ she said, ‘you are mad at me.’

  Cilveti looked puzzled. He didn’t understand a word of English and his Spanish wasn’t much better.

  ‘I’m mad all through,’ Spur said. ‘Juanita, I’m so damned mad I could spit.’

  She slid from her horse and came into his arms. The Basque grinned.

  She kissed him and in spite of the dust and the heat, it tasted good.

  Spur lapsed into Spanish.

  ‘That kind of thing will get you nowhere, woman,’ he said. ‘A woman’s place—’

  ‘Is with her man.’

  ‘Not in a fight.’

  ‘Mexican women go to war with their men.’

  ‘I’m a gringo.’

  ‘You’re good enough to be a Mexican.’

  Spur saw that he was at a disadvantage in Spanish. In panic, he took to English.

  ‘Hell,’ he said, ‘honey, can’t you just keep outa this a while? Look, Maddox is not far ahead. Leave me settle with him.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘You can settle with him, but when you have settled with him you will be face to face with this so beautiful American girl. When that happens, I want to be there. That is a woman’s business and you are not going to tell me how to run that.’

  ‘You don’t trust me,’ he said.

  ‘You are right,’ she exclaimed. ‘I do not.’

  ‘A woman has to trust a man. Love cannot live on distrust.’

  ‘That may be the gringo idea,’ she said. ‘But it is not the Mexican. I trust you while you are in my arms. That is all.’

  The Basque said in his awful Spanish: ‘I don’t know what she is saying, but she is right. This one is always right.’

  Spur groaned.

  ‘You can say that again,’ he said. ‘All right, Juanita, I’m letting you come with me because I don’t have the time to make you see sense. But, when the shooting starts, you keep low. Hear?’

  ‘I hear.’ He whistled to the mare and she came trotting down the trail. Juanita laughed with triumph and pleasure, squeezed Spur’s arm and ran to her horse. The Basque reached over and helped her into the saddle. When Spur was mounted, he told them what he had found. The Mexican girl nodded and said: ‘I think we must hurry.’ Spur looked at her with some admiration. The only other woman he knew with less physical fear in her was Netta Manson, the girl he was riding to save. He thought: When we’re through with this, there’s going to be hell to pay. Netta was a woman of iron determination, Juanita never let go when she had a grip. Spur wasn’t going to be fit for coyote bait by the time they were through with him. Life might have been more peaceful had he stayed on the owl-hoot trail.

  They headed on east. The sign was clear now and they hit a good pace. None of their animals was fresh, yet they kept on going. It was maybe a couple of hours before dark when they heard the shots.

  There were two of them, one following close on the heels of the other. Spur turned to the north onto some high land and they halted. Before them was a sweep of a rocky valley. The Basque’s sharp eyes picked up the horses. Three of them standing among the rocks.

  Then Spur picked up some slight movement to the east below them.

  There were men among the rocks. As he looked, he saw the puff of smoke from a rifle and then heard the thin crack of the report. He raised his eyes to the ridge above, searching for the defenders. The scene told him one thing—the man and the woman who had escaped from Maddox had guns. He also knew that somebody up on that ridge was still alive. He considered the situation. If there were men this side of the ridge, there were probably more on the far side. Yet Maddox seemed to have had only two men with him. Ben’s story had confirmed that. Spur searched the valley with his eyes, found the dead horse, ran his eyes south and saw another horse standing. He reckoned that Maddox must have had reinforcements.

  He wondered what chance he had. If that was Doolittle up there with Netta, the Basque for one would die in the attempt to get him out of this. If he knew Juanita, she would play her part whether he willed it or not. Maybe they could leave her up here to lay down a covering fire. That might provide her with something like safety. He hated the thought of risking her.

  The Basque said: ‘Sam,’ urgently and Spur turned.

  The man was pointing downhill behind them.

  Spur walked back past him and Juanita and gazed back along the trail they had come. He heard the light clip-clop of hoofs.

  ‘Get the horses under cover,’ he called softly to Cilveti. The man moved quickly. Juanita removed the carbine from her saddle and ran forward to join Spur. Her small jaw was set and her eyes were as deadly as a stalking Indian. Spur was glad that she was on his side.

  The hoofbeats came nearer, but as yet they could see nothing. Spur drew his gun.

  A lone rider came into sight.

  Spur said: ‘Aw, no.’

  The sight that met his eyes was one that he would never forget as long as he lived. A grizzled Negro in his longjohns, a blanket thrown across his shoulders, sitting astride the sorriest-looking mule Spur had ever clapped eyes on.

  Juanita laughed gaily.

  Spur called: ‘Ben.’

  The Negro drew rein and the mule looked as if it would subside into the dust at its feed. He raised his eyes and saw Spur and the girl. As he did so a beautiful smile spread over his features. He stepped down from what passed as a saddle and started up toward them. He walked with the best dignity he could raise in his longjohns. When he reached them, Spur and he shook.

  ‘Man,’ said Ben, ‘you sure is a sight for sore eyes. I didn’t think to come up with you before you was crowbait.’

  Spur slapped him on the shoulder and said: ‘Any minute now.’

  Ben rolled his eyes.

  ‘I heard a shot,’ he said. ‘You mean you come up with ’em?’

  ‘Take a look yonder.’

  Ben walked to where he could see over the valley beyond and it wasn’t long before he had taken in the situation. He came back to them and said: ‘We sure has to rustle,’ he said. ‘Them boys down yonder know just like we do that dark ain’t far off an’ they’s aimin’ to finish it. How you goin’ to play it, boy?’

  Spur squatted.

  ‘Now you’re here, Ben, we have a chance. The way I see it, Maddox has reinforcements and there must be some of his men on the far side of that ridge to the east. Now, the mare still has some run in her and I reckon I’ll circle over that way and shoot ’em up their butts. Juanita stays right here with a rifle and plenty shells. She can lay down a covering fire while Inaki works his way north along this ridge and gets in near the horses. Ben, you go on foot right ahead of here and take these boys in the rear. Now, we don’t want any goddam heroes. That clear? All we want to do is show ’em there’s guns all around ’em. They’ll run.’

  Ben was skeptical.

  ‘Mebbe,’ he said, ‘an’ mebbe not. For
me, I want that Maddox’s hide. I want to see it nailed out to dry. Nobody don’t treat me the way he done.’

  Juanita said in Spanish: ‘You stay alive, Ben, and listen to Samuel. I would rather you were alive than Maddox dead.’

  Ben looked at her.

  ‘Sure,’ he said. He never argued with a woman.

  They organized themselves. Juanita picked out a good spot and lay down with her repeating carbine. They each gave her a handful of shells. She gave her pistol to Ben and all her ammunition for it. It was a Remington Navy gun and he liked the look of it. He weighed it in his hand like the master he was and tried its action. He said he’d get by. Spur touched Juanita on the shoulder.

  She turned her head and smiled at him.

  ‘Con Dios,’ she said.

  ‘Look out for yourself,’ he told her.

  ‘If you save that girl,’ she said. ‘Remember, hombre, I am not far away.’

  He grinned and walked to the mare. He swung into the saddle and rode back down onto the trail. He crossed it and headed south, lifting her into a run. If the men in the valley heard him now, it didn’t matter. They would be puzzled, but that could only be good. He rode for about a mile before he turned east across the mouth of the valley, well out of sight of the Maddox crowd. He swung around into the north after he had covered a short distance more and found himself riding north parallel to the ridge on which Netta was. He knew that he could be riding smack into danger, but, at the same time, he knew that he could not afford to be cautious. He had to know how many men were on this side of the ridge and he had to know where they were. Added to that, he had to stay alive.

  He knew he had come far enough when, without hearing a gun go off, there came the whistle of a closely driven bullet in his ear. No second warning was necessary. He swerved the mare to the right, reached thick brush and slipped from the saddle. In a second he had his carbine in his hands. He slapped the mare and she trotted a hundred paces east and stopped, her head up and ears forward.

  Spur dropped into the dust and listened. He knew that there was a man to the west of him halfway up the ridge, for, as he dismounted, he saw the drift of dark smoke. He was wondering where the defenders were when he heard the slam of a high rifle and, looking up, saw the spot on the crest of the ridge being held by the defenders. Again, he wondered if they were both alive. He wondered also where Maddox was. He wanted Mad-dox as he had wanted no man before.