by Mason, Zack
Searching around, I picked the spot where I thought they'd be most likely to take up position and I stuck my last bundle of dynamite behind some rocks there. Again, I ran wire from it down to my lookout spot.
To finish my trap, I rounded up about a hundred head of cattle and herded them into the canyon. I blocked off both entrances with some brush to keep the cattle in.
Now, I just had to wait. I'd covered the wires as best as I could with dust and pebbles. A person would really have to look hard to spot them.
I'd left the majority of my cattle out on the range unprotected, but from past experience, I felt like these men were trying to get at me personally, to mess with my head, my confidence. I was betting on them leaving the other cattle alone in order to strike a more powerful blow by taking the ones right under my nose.
As night approached, I settled down to wait, letting my rifle stick out from between the rocks, leaving no doubt as to where I was. Darkness came and I didn't have to wait long. They were getting bolder each night, coming earlier and earlier, which actually made me glad. I always got antsy when I had to wait a long time to surprise somebody.
Some riders approached cautiously from the north, a larger group than normal. I hadn't been expecting that many.
They stopped well away from the canyon. For a moment, I thought they weren't going to take the bait, but then some of them split off and rode around to the south end. Both groups would approach from opposite sides simultaneously.
When they were still about a hundred feet away from the canyon, the shooting started. Sure enough, other rustlers had taken up position above me on the cliffs. I ducked behind my cover and waited as bullets ricocheted off the rocks.
They weren't letting up.
I was disappointed to see that not all the shooters were in the same place, so some of them would get away, but one group had planted themselves right where I'd expected.
Down in the canyon, both groups drew closer, faster now that I’d been driven to cover.
I waited. Acting prematurely would spoil my efforts.
Just a few more feet.
Overhead, the bullets flew, singing off the sides of the rocks around me. The northern group was now right smack dab in the middle of that entrance to the canyon. The southern group had just reached the end of their passage, and was about to enter the canyon.
My mouth was dry as cotton. I pushed the plunger and held my breath.
Instantly, three simultaneous explosions roared upward, their deep bellows echoing off the canyon walls in a deafening crescendo. I heard screams from both above and below. Then, the shooting stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Peering through my rocks down into the canyon, I saw the bodies of three men and their horses strewn on the ground in front of the northern entrance. Alive or dead, I couldn't tell.
One man was still mounted. He appeared dazed and was circling slowly with his eyes shut and hands clamped over his ears. I was surprised his horse hadn't stampeded away.
The southern entrance was similarly chaotic. Large rocks had tumbled down mercilessly and crushed at least two or three men. Several others were racing away from the canyon in a panic. They wouldn't be back soon.
I didn't dare poke my head up to see what damage I'd done on the cliffs above me, though I knew I'd done some. There were still some live rifles up there, but from the sporadic nature of the shots, I figured they were just covering themselves to get away as fast as they could.
A new noise rose up from the canyon, a roaring of thundering hooves and frantic lows. The cattle were stampeding. Hadn't counted on that, but I should have guessed they would. The southern entrance was blocked by debris, so by default they could only run north, and the dazed rustler was right in their path. He and horse both went down under the cutting hooves of the mad, rushing cows.
All in all, I couldn't call it anything but a success. I rolled over on my back, looked up at the bright stars, and listened to the sounds of the stampeding cattle fade off into the distance.
A profound sadness came over me then. I sure didn't like taking men's lives. It was a horrible thing. Woe to the man who ever took pleasure in it. I'd be danged, though, if this country didn't force a man to it from time to time.
***
That same night, I saddled up and headed into Cottonwood, my intention being to see the Sheriff and let him know what had happened before someone else told him their version of it. It was about time I told him about all the rustling going on my ranch too. I didn't expect him to do anything about it, but at least he'd maybe see that I wasn't behind the rustling on the other ranches. That is, if he believed me.
I rode my horse in at a canter and threw my reins over the post in front of the saloon. The Sheriff wasn't in his office, or the saloon, or the hotel. Red, the barman, said he thought he was out walking the town, making his rounds.
I decided to do my waiting outside on the boardwalk instead of the smoke-filled gambling hall. I just wasn't in the mood for that kind of thing tonight.
I stood on the boardwalk, enjoying the cool night air, when the serenity was broken by a whispered voice hissing my name from the darkness of an alley across the street. I peered into the black, trying to see who it was calling me.
Renee DuBois stepped out into the moonlight. Even as obscured as she was, I could see the vivacious curves of her hips and the way her stunning red dress hugged them. She whispered my name again and waved vigorously for me to come over to her. Then, she faded back into the alley.
I couldn't understand why she was being so secretive, but curiosity killed the cat, so I went to her, cautiously.
"Psst...Jake!" She whispered again.
"What do you want?"
"Ssssh! Not so loud!"
I lowered my voice. "Why are we whispering, Renee? What's going on?"
"Come over here, would you. I have to talk to you about something...about somebody, but I don't want anybody to see me talking to you. Now please shut up and come here!" She hissed the last words at me.
It was pitch black in that alley. I could barely see the outline of her, but even that was exciting.
Her voice was very low, but still as sultry as ever. "Jake, listen, I overheard something!" Her arm reached up and laced itself around the back of my neck in an embrace. She pulled herself close enough that I could smell the faint aroma of her perfume.
"I wouldn't have felt like it was so urgent, except it has something to do with your ranch, and I thought you should hear it as soon as possible."
Her fingers lightly caressed the back of my neck, and my left ear. Tingles shot up and down my legs and my spine. She certainly had a way of telling a man some news. A few more minutes of this, and I’d forget all my trouble and lose myself in a moment of passion.
Warning bells went off in my head.
"Listen, Renee, please just tell me what you have to tell me."
"Oh, nonsense, Jake!" She kissed me then, strong and powerful. Passion overwhelmed me and I returned the kiss, losing myself in her embrace.
Abruptly, she broke our contact and pushed herself away a few inches.
"Listen, Jake..."
WHOMP!
It felt like a ton of bricks had come in swinging and landed its first punch right on the back of my head. I went down with no way to prevent it. I couldn't seem to control my hands or feet or get them to move in time. The blow had stunned me.
Someone was kicking me now, in the stomach, in the sides, in the ribs. It hurt terrible, but I still couldn't move. I heard Renee half-heartedly pleading with my attacker for me, but then her footsteps fled from the brutality of the alley.
They kicked the side of my head several times in a row, and I blacked out.
When I came to, I was on my back and everything hurt. I didn't know if I'd gone blind or if the alley was just dark.
Renee. Renee had betrayed me.
I somehow struggled to my feet, and staggered out of the alley. I couldn't think straight. Who had attacked me? Where
were they now?
I stumbled and fell to one knee. One of my eyes was swelling shut. Across the street, I saw a pale, shocked face. It was a beautiful beacon in a sea of confusion.
Elizabeth.
What was she doing here? I longed to go to her, but my feet still didn't seem to be working very well yet.
It was okay, she was coming toward me. Then, she was running and screaming — screaming something I couldn't understand through the blood rushing in my ears. She was focused on something behind me. Twisting, I saw the outline of my attacker still in the alley. This time he had a gun and was pointing it at my head.
My legs wouldn’t move right. I couldn't escape.
I was hit from behind and knocked to the ground. The gun went off. I didn't feel any pain, but that could’ve been because I was already so numb.
My cheek was pressed into the dirt. There was some kind of deadweight on top of me. My eyes tracked the attacker’s feet as he raced off into the darkness.
I finally pushed myself up and found it was Elizabeth lying on top of me. She was having trouble breathing. She had pushed me out of the way to save my life, only to be shot herself.
"Elizabeth!" I cradled her head in my lap and brushed the hair out of her eyes.
"Well, Jake..."
Blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth, "Looks like I followed… in my… brother's footsteps, huh? Saving you."
"Ssh, Elizabeth. Don't talk. You're going to be all right."
"No, I'm not, Jake." She spasmed in pain right then.
"Don't talk like that! Don't you die on me, Elizabeth. I love you. I know you don't care, but I do, so please don't leave me!"
"Jake...I hated you for a long time for what happened to my brother ... but I know my true feelings for you now. I'm sorry ... for ... for how I was. I ...love you too…"
Tears welled up in my eyes. I could see she was hurt bad. There wasn't much hope.
Her blood was so dark as it spilled into the moonlight.
I held her face next to mine and kissed her cheek. This was all my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been tempted by Renee. My weakness had killed Elizabeth! On top of all the others, I’d now killed the woman I loved. Tears fell freely, wetting both our cheeks.
"Don't cry, Jake. Please...do me a favor?" She was struggling, going fast.
"Anything," I answered, my eyes pleading for penance.
"Give your heart to God, Jake. That will make the sacrifice worth it,” she croaked.
"What? What do you mean? How do I do that? Elizabeth?"
She couldn't answer because she was already gone.
All said and done I stand alone
Amongst remains of a life I should not own
It takes all I am to believe in the mercy that covers me
“Worlds Apart”
- Jars of Clay
I was barely able to mount my horse. Nothing seemed broken, but I was hurt deeply, outside and in. My ribs were bruised, and it hurt to breathe. My back felt like it'd come within two inches of being broken. Nausea rose up sickeningly from the pit of my stomach. My head throbbed with a rhythmic booming that made it impossible to think.
Deep in my heart, there burned a pulsing fire fueled by violent rage. That rage welled up and fed upon itself, flaring into an inferno, only to be doused by the profound sadness washing across my soul.
Elizabeth was dead.
The tears would not extinguish that angry flame. On the long ride home, it repeatedly flared up again, only to be put out once more by sorrow. An elemental battle of the soul.
I could think of nothing but her eyes in those last moments. At last, they'd looked at me with the love I'd longed for, only to be emptied of life moments later. I'd failed at finding my brother's killer, but I swore an oath to myself to hunt down hers and make them pay in blood. If I were lucky, maybe they’d be the same person.
I rode, slumped in my saddle, unaware of my surroundings, lost in thought, my aches lulling me into a partial trance. It took a minute to realize my horse had stopped.
I was back at the ranch, or what was left of it. The cabin was still burned out. I'd only had time to rebuild it halfway. Bodies littered the canyon off to the north where my mini-war with the rustlers had been fought. My herd was scattered and dwindling. I had no hope of being able to hire help without riding to another county. Elizabeth was dead.
It’s amazing how fast someone can become so dear to you. I stared at the ruins for a while. I had no idea how much time passed by the time I first saw the riders.
They topped a ridge in the distance and were coming on fast. I knew they meant me harm, but my will to live had gone out of me, spilled on the ground and mingled with Elizabeth's blood.
From reflex, my hand moved to draw one of my Colts, but thinking again, I let it slide back into the holster. Let them have their way. Why fight it?
They came together at an even pace. Pulling up in front of me, they spread out in a half-circle. A couple of them circled out of sight behind me. There appeared to be nine or ten total. Bill Hartford led them.
"Talbot! We've had enough of your murdering ways,” he growled. “You done murdered some of my men. Good men! We're going to hang you from the nearest tree." He snapped and whistled, sending a couple of his hands into motion.
For me, he was just one more man with anger burning behind his eyes.
"Only men I killed tonight, Hartford, were some no-good rustlers. And the name’s Halfbreed, for the last time," I added weakly.
"You're the only rustler 'round here. You and your brother!" All the men murmured their assent. The riders behind me had halted their mounts, cantering in place a bit.
"Like I said, some rustlers came onto my land tonight, and I was ready for them. If your men were among them, then they were rustlers."
"Bull! I’ve got four witnesses who say different. Murph said he'd brought some boys out here because they'd tracked some rustled cattle to your ranch. Said you were waiting for them on your back trail, and had dynamite set to go off. You murdered five of my men!"
"If Murphy told you that, then he's one of them. Heck, he's probably the leader of the whole gang! That would explain how he was able to get away with it for so long."
Hartford spat and threw his hat to the ground in disgust. "I'll be danged if I'm not sick and tired of hearing you yap, you cow thief! I'd much rather see you swing as you deserve. Get' im boys!"
They moved their horses in, and I moved mine out. They had me covered with pistols, but I jabbed my horse in the side hard. He moved into them swiftly enough to knock several of them off balance, preventing the others from getting a clean shot.
Just as quickly, I spurred my horse to race away as fast as possible. They recovered faster than I’d hoped, and a burning sensation let me know I'd been shot in the leg, which hurt worse than the beating.
Bullets flew past on all sides and kicked up dirt ahead of me. One burned my side, leaving a crease. Another killed my horse in mid-run, and we both went down. I jumped just before we hit the ground and landed running. My shot leg stumbled under me at the sudden weight put on it, but, considering the alternative, I somehow kept my stride. A rider loomed right in front of me and he was bringing his pistol around to bear.
I was on him too fast, though. I yanked him out of the saddle and threw him down. Once he was flat on the ground, one punch in the face was enough to put him out of commission.
Fluidly, I twisted my body, got hold of the stirrup of his horse, and swung up into his saddle. Laying as low as possible, I spurred my new mount into a wild, all-out run for safety. With the dark and all the confusion, I had a chance, albeit a slim one.
WHAP!
Bullet struck flesh in my left shoulder, shooting spasms of pain throughout. I tucked my head down and prayed for protection.
Soon, the shots faded away and then stopped altogether. Somehow, I'd escaped certain death.
No time to ponder things like fate now though. I had two
serious gunshot wounds and a county full of people wanting to string me up.
I ripped off two sections of my shirt to use as bandages to stop some of the blood loss from my wounds. It seemed to work, but I was already weakened.
In desperation, a man will consider options he normally would not entertain. With my injuries, I knew I couldn't go very far. There would be a posse after me before morning, and unless I could pull off a miracle, they'd get me, and I'd be hanging from that tree, just as Bill Hartford had promised.
It was crazy, but just maybe my miracle lay in Apache country. There was a band of warrior-Apaches running the area just north of here. I'd always avoided the territory like the plague, as did most white men. I was proud of my Indian heritage, but I didn't think those Apaches had any more respect for Cherokee blood than they did white.
It was my only hope now. If I went there, any posse of white men would think long and hard about following me in. They'd be risking their lives to go there…but then again, so would I.
My hope lay in sheer courage. Apaches were known to respect boldness and courage more than anything. If I rode straight into their camp without a care in the world, I figured I had about a fifty-fifty chance of coming out alive, and those were about the best odds I had going at the moment.
***
Jinny Logan looked upon the wagon rolling slowly up the dirt path to their home with foreboding and dread. The man leading it wore a gray expression on his face, like a defeated zombie, as if once relieved of his burden, he might just slink off and melt back into the earth.
She knew what must lie in that wagon. A dead body. The only question was who and why they were dead.
She waited.
Finally, the wagon stopped in front of her. Unconsciously, her mother’s grip on her shoulder hardened, as if to steady her. The body in the wagon was almost unrecognizable it was so broken and disfigured, as if it'd been crushed by a very heavy object. The sinking realization of who it was came to her slowly. She was looking at the once-sweet face of Henry Tadd.