by Jack Ballas
As soon as the bandit staggered, Wes pulled trigger on the second man, who ran back the way he’d come. Higgins missed. The man had turned, staggered to the side trying to catch his balance, and lucked out. That stagger caused Wes to miss. Before he could get off another shot the bandit disappeared around the bend in the trail.
Higgins turned and ducked behind the edge of the alcove, but not before rock slivers sprinkled his shoulder and face. “That ranny we shot earlier, the one who dragged himself away, wuz waitin’ fer me soon’s I stepped out where he could see me.”
Lingo grabbed him and pulled him deeper into the rocky depression, then twisted him to the now dull torchlight to look at his shoulder and face. “You’re danged lucky, young’un. That man got in such a hurry he didn’t make sure of his shot. Bet money he wasn’t from Texas.”
Finally, making certain the rocky splinters had done nothing more than draw a little blood, he pushed Wes from him. “Smelled food cooking awhile ago. Go on back to the cabin an’ let Kelly clean the rock outta your face an’ shoulder, then eat. I’ll hold down things here until you get back.”
“Et fore I come with them torches, Lingo. Ain’t hurt enough to bother Kelly. You git on down yonder and feed yourself. ’Sides that, Miss Emily’s gonna be wonderin’ ’bout all the shootin’. You can make her know it wasn’t much.”
Barnes stepped toward his horse, then stopped when Higgins asked, “Why you always call me a young’un, Lingo? Hell, I’m almost old as you are, lackin’ ’bout five years.”
Barnes chuckled. “Those five years were the ones I used to go up the trail twice while you were growin’ up.”
“Yeah, but then you took me on trail drives twice, an’ the second time made me trail boss of the herd follerin’ the one you wuz bossing. We wuz about a day behind you all the way.”
This was an old subject between them, and try as he might, Lingo still thought of Wes as the kid his pa had raised. “Aw, hell, Wes, reckon I look on you like my kid brother. Know you can handle guns, knives, cattle, but I like to feel like I can stand between you and harm.”
“Them two years your pa sent you back East to school, I growed up plenty.”
Lingo nodded. “ ’Cause you stepped in an’ took my place while I was gone. Pa put a lot on you in those two years.” He peered around the edge of the rocky alcove. “Don’t know whether all that smoke hangin’ in layers out there is from the torch, or the powder we burned gettin’ rid o’ those skunks. Smells like both.”
“Don’t make no difference, they done ducked for cover. Now you go on an’ git some victuals under your belt.”
Lingo swung into the saddle, held up his hand in farewell, and said, “Take care, young’un.”
He thought he heard Wes snort, and say, “Young’un, hell.”
Lingo rode to the front of the cabin, looped the reins over the hitch rack, and stepped toward the door. Before he’d covered ten feet, Kelly came out the door on the run. “Wes—where’s Wes? He ain’t hurt, is he?”
Barnes grabbed her by the shoulders. “ ’Course he’s not hurt. I left him up there to keep those varmints outta our valley while I get a bite to eat.” He sniffed. “What’s that that smells so good?”
Kelly glanced toward the pass. Her eyes still showed worry, then absentmindedly she mumbled, “Venison steaks.”
“Where’s Em?”
“She’s in yonder tendin’ your steak. She seen you comin’ an’ took over at the stove right then. Said she could tell you was hongry soon’s you come in sight.”
Lingo chuckled. “She was sure right about that.” He draped his arm across Kelly’s shoulders and pulled her toward the door.
Emily Lou put a still sizzling steak on his plate, raked him from head to toe with a searching look, then apparently satisfied he was all right, dished up vegetables and took bread from the oven. “Didn’t take them long to find us, did it, Lingo?”
He shook his head. “Might as well be now as later. Don’t like to sit around and wait for things to happen.”
“Is there another way into your valley?”
He nodded. “Yep, but only one, an’ they’d have to know a lot more about this country than I think they do in order to find it. Now you stop worryin’. Soon’s we take care of those up there at the pass I’m gonna head for town an’ see what’s happened to your pa.”
She stood by the table, looked from his plate to him, and shook her head. “The way you’re putting that food away looks like you’re gonna want another steak.”
Lingo shook his head, wiped his mouth on a frayed dish towel and stood. “Nope. Gonna get back up there and send Wes down for Kelly to clean up his face and baby him a little.”
Kelly stiffened. “He’s hurt?”
“Nope, just got some rock slivers sprayed on his face. Not enough to hurt his good looks even.” He grinned. “ ’Course I don’t think you care a whit how he looks.”
Kelly’s face turned a bright red. “Now you stop teasin’ me, Lingo Barnes. You know I just feel beholden to him for savin’ me from them men in Taos an’ don’t want nothin’ happenin’ to him.”
Lingo’s grin widened. “ ’Course not, little one. I never figured it any other way.” He chuckled again. “ ’Course, you bein’ a pretty blonde little spitfire, and stickin’ to him like a south Texas cocklebur, don’t mean nothin’.”
“Ain’t no pretty blonde, just a faded dishwater blonde. Ain’t no man gonna look at me right serious.”
Emily smiled. “You believe what you want, Kelly, but you’re a very pretty young lady.” She nodded. “And if you ask me, Wes has already taken note of that.” Her smile widened. “I have a hunch you have taken more than a hard look at him, too. He’s so handsome as to be almost pretty—if it wasn’t for that hard look his face takes on when he thinks Lingo’s in trouble.”
Barnes seeing that the two women had settled into a comfortable relationship, clamped his hat to his head, waved good-bye, and went out the door.
As soon as he disappeared, Kelly looked at Emily Lou. “Want you to know, I ain’t lookin’ at Wes all cow-eyed. He saved me from a downright terrible life, an’ I’m gonna be whatever he wants me to be whenever he wants me to be it.”
Emily poured them each a cup of coffee and pulled Kelly to a chair at the table. “From the short while I saw Wes, I believe that whatever he wants you to be will be honorable. Tell me how you met.”
Kelly shrugged. “Ain’t much to tell. My folks an’ me wuz headin’ for the gold fields over yonder at Durango. We wuz with a wagon train when they died of pneumonia. Nobody in the train wanted to take on another mouth to feed; I wuz only fifteen at the time an’ the womenfolk were used to doin’ their own work, so when we reached Taos I went lookin’ for a job.
“They wuz some men in that town tried to pull me into a saloon full o’ soiled doves an’ make me work there. Wes stepped in; braced four of ’em an’ took me away from there on the run. Lingo stayed behind to keep ’em from followin’ us.” She pulled her shoulders up around her neck as though to ward off the thought of falling into the hands of the likes of men like that. “That wuz over five years ago; I took care o’ them as much as they’d let me. I growed to be a woman in that five years an’ I need a man to take care of.” She pinned Emily with a look sharp as a dagger. “Want you to know, ain’t neither one o’ them ever made an improper move toward me. They ain’t said nothin’ bad to me either.”
Emily dropped her look to stare into her cup, then again looked into Kelly’s eyes. “Kelly, from what little I’ve seen of them, you couldn’t have fallen into the hands of two finer men. After we find my father, I want us to keep in touch.”
Kelly stood and gathered the dishes to wash them. “From the way I seen Lingo tryin’ to keep you from harm, I reckon you can bank on it that we’ll see a whole lot of you.” She cocked her head as though listening. “A couple more shots from up there on the mountain.” She stared toward the door. “Hope them menfolk are all right.”
Lingo stood, his back pressed against the granite wall of the alcove. “Well, reckon we know they’re still hidin’ around that bend. No use in both of us wastin’ time here. I can hold ’em. You go on down to the cabin and let Kelly clean up your face.”
Wes stared at him a moment. “You sure you’ll be all right?”
Lingo, although not wanting to be alone against the outlaws, grinned. “ ’Course I’ll be all right. You ever seen three or four men buffalo me?”
“Done seen times they should have—if you had any sense in that hard head o’ yours.” He pulled his hat tight on his head and toed the stirrup. “Be back up here soon as Kelly gits through with me.”
Lingo shook his head. “Nope, you stay down there ’til I signal I want you up here; get a little sleep. This may be a long wait for them to get enough.”
“Promise you ain’t gonna pull any damn fool stunt like tryin’ to rush ’em all by yourself.”
Lingo shoved another couple of cartridges into the loading gate of his rifle. “Ma didn’t raise a total damn fool. I’ll hold fast ’til I see you again.”
Wes cast him a look as though he didn’t believe a word of it, reined his horse down the trail, and soon disappeared around a bend.
Lingo lighted another torch, reached around the edge of the alcove, and tossed it onto the trail. It had not touched the roadbed before shots rang out. The torch jumped, sputtered, but continued burning. Then the idea hit Lingo square between his ears.
He took his boots off, though not liking the idea of running up the trail in sock feet. But if he had this girl-stealing trash figured right, they’d stay there until that one who had dragged himself back around the bend bled to death.
He waited. The reflected glow of the torch grew dimmer. Lingo shuffled his feet, then rubbed them up and down against each other, trying to get some warmth in them. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to ease the fear that threatened to grip his nerves. Then a flare, and the flame died.
With the last sputtering ember, Lingo launched himself around the edge of the alcove. His sock-clad feet made no sound. He ran toward the bend around which the bandits hid. He held his rifle in his left hand, and while running flipped the thong from the hammer of his Colt, thumbed back the hammer, and came face-to-face with the outlaw he’d heard called “Slim” back where he’d freed Emily. He slipped the hammer and thumbed it back again. His two shots sounded almost as one to his ears.
Slim staggered and lurched toward the edge of the cliff—but pulled the trigger on his rifle while stumbling. A streak of fire burned along Lingo’s side, and at the same time knocked the wind from his lungs. He thumbed off another shot. That shot knocked the dark shape of Slim over the edge of the cliff. He didn’t yell, scream, nothing. Barnes figured he died before starting the long descent.
Lingo choked on a heavy cloud of powder smoke, but never slowed as he went around the bend in the trail. Two horses raced for the next curve. The dim light showed one with a rider, the other with a smaller shape leaning over the saddlehorn. Lingo holstered his Colt and brought his Winchester to his shoulder. He fired twice, but doubted he hit either of the bandits. Then the pain grabbed him. The slug in his side bent him double. Then hoofbeats from the valley side of the trail came to him.
Lingo raised his head enough to see Wes coming off the side of his horse at a dead run. His bootheels dug against the rocky surface and he skidded to a halt beside him.
“Damn you, Lingo, you said you wouldn’t try anything dumb. Now you went an’ done it.” While berating his friend, Wes gently pushed him to the ground and looked him over from head to foot, then he ripped Lingo’s shirt to the side so he could look at the bloody gash in his side. “Crease, nasty-lookin’ crease.” He ran his fingers along Barnes’s ribs. “Didn’t splinter none of ’em, but I figure at least one’s cracked. Gotta git you down to the cabin. You feel like ridin’?”
“Hell no, but reckon I got it to do.” He rolled to his side. Despite his trying to hold it back, a moan pushed through his tightly compressed lips.
Wes put his hands under Lingo’s armpits and pulled him to his feet. “Hold on, old friend, gotta git you on your hoss: Gonna hurt like hell, but it’s gotta be done.”
They struggled a few moments, Wes trying to hold Lingo upright, and Barnes gritting his teeth and trying to stand without falling. Wes finally got his partner to the granite bluff and leaned him against it. “See if you can stand there long ’nuff for me to get your horse.”
While Wes went for his horse, Lingo tried to suck in a deep breath. It caught in his throat. He wouldn’t try that again. From the pain that caught his chest in a vice grip, he nodded; Wes was right. He had at least one broken rib.
Higgins came around the bend leading Lingo’s horse. “This ain’t gonna be easy, partner, but we gotta do it. You grab the horn while I try to get your toe in the stirrup.”
It took the better part of a half hour to get Lingo in the saddle, and another equal amount of time to get down to the cabin.
Emily beat Kelly to Lingo’s side. She reached up her arms to help him from the saddle, apparently not thinking that his two hundred pounds would take them both to the ground, then Wes shouldered his way between her and the horse. “I got ’im, little one. You an’ Kelly go in and rip one o’ them sheets into strips ’bout six-inches wide. I’ll git ’im in the cabin.”
Without argument they did as they were told. Lingo clamped his teeth tight and didn’t utter a sound while Wes wrestled him off his horse and to his bedside—then he passed out.
He must have been out for only a few seconds because when he swam out of the darkness Wes was ranting and raving. “Knowed soon’s I left ’im up yonder he’d pull some fool stunt.” He nodded. “Yep, knowed it, an’ that’s ’zackly what he done. He charged them three what wuz left all by hisself.”
Lingo took a shallow breath and mumbled, “Got one of ’em, too. The other two left right fast.”
“Pull him to sit so I can get these bandages pulled tight around his chest.” Emily held the end of one of the sheet strips tight against his ribs while she talked. When Kelly and Wes had him upright, she wrapped the strip of cloth around and around his chest. Finally, she stood back. “I felt along each of your ribs and could detect only one broken. That wrapping will keep you from breathing deeply while holding the cracked rib together. Now you lie still while we take care of you.”
Lingo forced a grin. “Not much danger of me tryin’ to get up right now. Where you learn to take care of things like this?”
She smiled. “I volunteered to help doctor beat up, cut up, shot up sailors at a place called ‘Sailors’ Rest’ before leaving Baltimore. They seem to think it’s a lot of fun to come ashore and fight—along with the other things they do while off their ship.”
Wes chuckled. “Sounds like a bunch o’ cowpunchers at the end of the trail.”
Lingo sniffed. “If that’s coffee I smell, I sure could use a cup.”
Emily beat Kelly to the pot, poured a cupful, and went back to Lingo’s bunk. She wouldn’t let him try to hold the cup, instead she held it to his lips while he sipped the hot liquid. Barnes noticed the sly grin Wes cast Kelly. If he wasn’t careful, they’d try to get him and Em interested in each other. He looked over the rim of the cup Emily held to his lips. She was one danged good-looking female, and she took to trouble like one of these Western women. He liked her.
Emily made him stay in bed, or at least in the cabin doing nothing, for two days, then he pronounced himself well enough to be at work. At breakfast that morning, he looked at Wes. “Know what, young’un, we’re not through with that bunch who stole Em. If they’d take ’er off a stagecoach, they want ’er pretty bad. They’ll be back.” He took a forkful of pancake, chewed it, and swallowed. “Back there at the fire that night, I heard ’em call the big beefy one Bull, an’ the one I heard called Shorty was the one hunched over his saddlehorn. He’s the one who dragged himself back around the bend.” He took another bite. “I figure the
y’ve gone back to Durango to get Shorty doctored, then they’ll gather up a few more o’ their kind an’ come back to finish the job.”
Emily stared at her now empty plate a moment, then swept them with a glance. “I’ve brought a whole bunch of trouble down on you folks. I’m terribly sorry.”
Wes chuckled. “Miss Emily, if you hadn’t come along, I reckon me an’ Lingo would’ve gone crazier’n a rabid skunk. We wuz gittin’ flat-out bored with babyin’ them cows o’ Lingo’s.” He nodded. “Yep, you saved us from havin’ to go to the nuthouse.”
Wide eyed, Emily looked at them, then centered her glance on Lingo since they all seemed to look to him for leadership. “What do you think to do now, Lingo?”
He frowned, took a bite of venison steak, chewed a while, then having made up his mind, gave a jerky nod. “I figure to go into Durango, none of that bunch knows me, it was dark when I took you outta their camp, and I’ll try to find what has happened to your pa.” He forced a tight smile. “Too, I might luck out and run into some o’ that bunch who took you. I figure to see ’em either in town or on the trail.”
Emily carefully placed her fork beside her plate, clenched her fists, and leaned across the table. “And, sir, if you run into them as you so succinctly stated it, what do you think to do then, fight them all by yourself?”
Wes let out a belly laugh. “Damn, Lingo, Miss Emily’s done got you figgered right down to a nubbin’.” He cut the laugh off short, and looked Emily in the eye. “Yes’m. Reckon you done nailed that horseshoe on tight. That’s ’zackly what he figgers to do.” He took a swallow of coffee and a slow grin spread across his boyish, handsome face. “An’ you know what, Miss Emily? He’d win. I been with ’im when I seen ’im out-Comanche a Comanche. Ain’t many who figure themselves as gunfighters who would on purpose face Lingo.” He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I know he’s been on his best behavior here with you, an’ he’s really what most would call a gentleman, but when he goes against men, he’s a ring-tailed, foot-stompin’ piece o’ hell.”