Jack then told quickly how, with Doctor Steven’s care, he had made a swift recovery and immediately started organizing a punitive expedition. He pointed out that many other people had wanted to come along but he thought that it would be best to avoid an unwieldy number, which could easily become a mob. Abbie had noticed several pack horses and upon being asked about them Jack described how Benson the general store owner had been most generous, furnishing stocks of dried and canned food along with powder caps and shot. Abbie smiled. Benson knew which side his bread was buttered on – especially since she owned his store!
‘Now,’ she said. ‘We have recapped events to date. We’ve rescued Dora and Minny, I mean Yellow Flower, and we have wiped out Bradshaw’s gang of cutthroats. The horses are still missing but I can handle their loss with no problem. What do you folks think should be the next step? Go on or return home?’ Abbie deliberately put the question this way as she did not want to be the one deciding to put people’s lives in danger.
She continued, ‘Before we hear from any of you, I think that you should hear from Felipe since he lived among the outlaws and knows what we are up against. Felipe.’ Abbie motioned the Mexican to his feet.
Felipe stood grasping his straw sombrero in both hands and moving it round and round. He was speechless until Abbie put her left arm around his thin shoulders and gave him a squeeze. He smiled and nodded.
‘Well, señores and señoras, maybe I can tell you first about La Cruz. It was a mission built by the good Franciscan Fathers about one hundred and twenty years ago. They had hoped to convert the wild Comanche and for a little while they were successful. But then the Comanche attacked the mission and killed the priests, brothers and many people that they had converted. The ruined church and the buildings were, how do you say, destroyed – but not altogether.
‘Other people came and thought that this was a good place to hide out if they were running from the law. My father, he was what we call a political. He was against the government and the Rurales would like to catch him, so we left Mexico and came north to La Cruz; my father, my mother, my baby sister Juanita and myself. The village was not so bad then. We had a good well. Pablo Morales kept a little store and it was also a cantina.
‘My father built a little hut. We grew some beans and had chickens and one little pig We were a happy family for some years and my father, he thought that one day we would all go back to Mexico if there was a new El Presidente. Then one evil day came seniors, El Caudillo arrived in La Cruz with his comancheros. He said that he was the boss, the chief, and everyone must obey him in every regard. If his men wanted something they just took it and soon our chickens and the family pet, our pig, had been stolen from us. My father, he protested, and the thieves laughed and just said speak to El Caudillo. My father was a brave man and did so, and that spawn of the devil had him tied to a post in front of the ruined church and then his men used him for target practice.
‘My father’s murder, for that is what it was, killed my mother, but she died slowly, worn out trying to earn a few coppers to feed my sister and me. After my mother had died, we two were looked after by our neighbours the way poor people will help each other until the terrible day when El Caudillo was walking around the village and saw Juanita before we could hide her. He declared that she was to be his wife but, of course, he lied. There was no ceremony, he took her to be his woman until he gets tired of her, and then she will be handed over to his men.
‘El Caudillo has maybe forty to fifty pistoleros. Some Mexican, some gringos, some half-breeds and some renegade Indians. Most of them are well-armed but I don’t know how well they will fight. One more thing senores, if you decide to attack I can draw a very good map of La Cruz on the ground. Thank you for listening to me.’ And Felipe sat down amid a round of applause from his listeners.
Speaker after speaker rose to express the view that the expedition should continue with the avowed aim of smashing El Caudillo and his evil regime, while at the same time doing everything possible to avoid innocent bloodshed. One person emphasized a generally held opinion that unless the renegades were destroyed nobody would be safe since they could always raid north from La Cruz.
One of the Utes expressed the Indian point of view more bluntly. Their lodges had been attacked and certain of their people killed. The victims’ spirits would not rest until they were avenged. Even if the White Eyes chose to return northward, the Ute would gather more of their people and plan an attack against El Caudillo.
Wilf Bateson stood up and stressed that he and his gun team hadn’t hauled ‘ole Betsy’, their mountain artillery piece, all this way just as an exercise. They wanted to hear the cannon roar in anger, which remark caused a ripple of laughter to go around the assembled circle.
Having heard all the comments, Abbie rose and addressed the group. ‘Very well! Since we seem to be agreed that we must wipe out this nest of vipers I suggest we consider a number of points. First, we will be attacking determined men who may be well fortified and to be of an equal number we need more volunteers. Jack, can you get more from both the ranch and the mine?’ Jack replied that he would send a messenger and would double his men within two or three days.
White Cloud, speaking for the Utes, indicated that if messengers were sent he could triple the Indian contingent and one of their number started off there and then to summon more braves to the war party.
By unanimous consent, Abbie was appointed leader of the expedition. It was a strange decision considering the time and the place but she had proved herself extremely capable when leading a wagon train. She had demonstrated that she kept a very cool head, whether commanding a defensive situation or facing down a solitary gunman. Because of her upbringing in India in a military establishment, she almost automatically had an air of command.
In a few days the numbers in the punitive column had more than doubled as more Indians and whites made their appearance. Abbie and Jack, her second in command, were anxious to move since the numbers were likely to exhaust the available food supplies in a very short time.
Finally, with scouting parties of Indians ranging ahead, the column moved out. Jack, realizing that some kind of military order was essential, had divided the men into groups of between fifteen to twenty, each one under the command of a competent squad leader. Jacob Levy was added to what Jack called the Head Quarters staff. Jacob was in charge of food and ammunition, and five volunteers were attached to the gun team to give them additional rifle fire if required.
Abbie, riding at the head of the column, thought about her unique situation. ‘My father would, I believe, be very proud that I’ve stepped, as it were, almost automatically into a position of military authority. I now have an added responsibility. I must try to make sure that I do not conduct myself in any way of which he would not approve.’
CHAPTER FIVE
The terrain through which the column was passing was changing with every mile, and the trees became sparse and the hilly country changed to an increasingly arid plain. At the end of that first day they made a waterless camp and the men were warned to have but small smokeless fires with which to make coffee. Night fell and with it the temperature as the dry air of the desert failed to retain the warmth of the day. The night was cold and Abbie realized that too many days of this contrast – blistering heat by day, freezing cold by night – would eat rapidly away at the morale.
Therefore she suggested to Jack that they do a night march to bring them closer to La Cruz and hopefully reduce the duration of acute discomfort. Jack agreed and about midnight the weary men saddled their horses and continued south by the light of a million glittering stars and a bright yellow moon.
One of their Ute scouts returned with the news that so far they had not detected any outposts north of La Cruz, which would seem to indicate that so far El Caudillo had not realized that Bart Bradshaw and his men were not returning and therefore they did not need to increase their defences. The scout drew a sketch map on the ground to show that just north of the
mission was a deep arroyo running from east to west and bisecting the north–south trail. The Indians thought that if the column made another night march they could take shelter in the arroyo and thus be hidden from any prying eyes but be ready to make a dawn attack.
Abbie and Jack consulted with Felipe, who reckoned that by morning they would be perhaps a day’s ride from La Cruz. It was therefore decided to rest up during the day, enduring the blistering heat as well as they could and then make yet another night march as suggested.
Felipe turned to Abbie, ‘Señorita Abbie! Would you permit me to offer a suggestion?’
She nodded to him. ‘Go ahead Felipe! What do you have in mind?’
‘Well it is like this. I have been thinking about the villagers, the poor honest people stuck in La Cruz when we attack. They are innocent but they will be, how do you say, between the devil and the deep blue sea. I should like to go ahead with maybe three or four men and bring them out into the desert west of the village and then into the arroyo where they will be safe during the fighting.’
Abbie looked at Jack, who shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, captain! If he could pull it off it would be a good thing, ’cos then we’d know that those left in the area were the enemy an’ we wouldn’t be shooting just anyone.’
She turned away to look at Felipe, intently concerned that the Mexican boy’s offer was not completely altruistic. ‘Tell me truthfully, Felipe! Are you suggesting this so that you can hope to rescue your sister, Juanita?’
Felipe shook his head violently from side to side. ‘No, señorita! I swear by all the saints that I did not even consider my poor sister. I know that she will be held close to El Caudillo and there is nothing I can do to save her now. Maybe during the attack it will be different.’
Abbie was silent for a few moments as she considered the options. ‘Very well, we shall do as Felipe proposes.’ She held up her hand to still any possible protest, ‘And I will go with the party to reconnoitre the mission so that we will have a better knowledge of what we’re up against.’
Reluctantly, Jack agreed, but with the proviso that if the rescue party wasn’t back by sun up he would be attacking with the whole force that same day!
CHAPTER SIX
The column reached the arroyo at about two o’clock in the morning and most of the men settled down to try and get some rest with the stern warning, ‘Remember! No fires!’
Three men were stationed along the lip of the arroyo as lookouts, staring south towards the tumbled mass of buildings that even at this late hour still showed here and there glimpses of flickering lights, indicating that some people were still abroad. Abbie and Felipe, with three Indians as their escort, prepared to go into La Cruz. Each had equipped himself with the weapons with which he or she was most familiar. Abbie had, of course, her trusty pinfire, her Bowie and for good measure a borrowed .31 calibre Pocket Colt thrust through her belt at her back behind her shirt. Felipe had a pair of pistols as well as the knife with which he had ended the career of one of Bart Bradshaw’s men. All three Indians had traded their long guns for bows and arrows and, of course, had their knives as well as tomahawks. With whispered farewells and fervent handshakes, the little party moved out.
Crouching low to reduce their outlined silhouettes against the night sky, they ran swiftly across the desert towards the cluster of huts. Reaching the first one, Felipe motioned them to keep down while he crept around to the blanket-draped doorway. Quietly he raised the covering and vanished into the dark interior. Abbie and the three Utes heard a stifled gasp, followed by a whispered murmuring of voices.
The blanket rose and two adults emerged clutching the hands of three sleepy toddlers and a hastily gathered bundle of their belongings. Felipe pointed out the direction they were to take and with nods of the head they fearfully set off to put distance between themselves and the village. Felipe then moved on to the next hovel and gradually they worked their way through all of the dwellings occupied by the impoverished Mexicans.
Abbie began to think that they would succeed in clearing out all of the villagers without interruption but it was not to be. The occupants of the last hut had just emerged and were being directed to depart north-west in the direction of the arroyo when there was a loud shout and a party of bandits bore down upon them.
‘Felipe!’ cried Abbie. ‘Get these people clear! I and the three braves will cover you. Get moving!’
So saying, Abbie drew her pistol and, taking cover beside the wall of the last hut, opened fire upon the advancing bandits. Simultaneously, the three Utes melted into concealment and moments later their arrows were finding their marks among the yelling outlaws. Abbie fired deliberately and slowly with great effect and every one of her shots found its mark. Her firing and the arrows, which struck down yet more of the foe, caused the attack to wither away from the deadly fire but more of the bandits arrived and spread themselves between the huts. Soon Abbie realized that they were being surrounded.
Their position was rapidly becoming untenable as more and more bandits entered the fray. It was not that they were such great shots but the sheer volume of their fire was causing Abbie to keep her head down, emerging just to take a snap shot and then quickly ducking back under cover.
She called out to her Indian companions, ‘Time to get out of here! Let’s go!’ Only two of the Utes responded. The third was lying on the ground, spread-eagled where he had fallen from the roof of one of the huts and with blood pouring from the result of an unlucky head shot. The other two needed no second command but slipped away into the night.
Abbie had turned to follow their example when she suddenly felt a violent blow just below the left knee. At the time it felt as though she had been kicked by the steel-shod hoof of an angry mule. She fell to the ground clutching at her leg and her hand came away covered in blood. With her strength rapidly fading in shock from the bullet’s impact, Abbie had the presence of mind to drag herself back against the wall of the hut and. hauling out the tiny Colt from its location painfully poking her in the small of the back. she stuffed it down into her left moccasin boot.
She lay there sick from the bullet wound and also by the fact that she at long last had been felled by one of the deadly leaden messengers that she had so often sent on their way. The bandits surged forward and for a moment Abbie had the vain hope that she would be overlooked in the dark shadows along the base of the wall. It was not to be. There were excited cries and soon a number of bandits – some of Mexican ancestry, others probably of white origin while yet others were undoubtedly Indian – were gathered around gazing down curiously at the white woman who stared back defiantly up at them.
One tentatively poked at her with the bare toe of a sandal-shod foot. Another followed his example, only harder, and soon others were also kicking at the victim. Initially the blows did not hurt Abbie unduly but she realized that if it continued and increased in intensity she stood a very good chance of being kicked to death.
Suddenly, a harsh, authoritative voice broke in upon their enjoyment, causing the bandits to fall back obediently as a burly figure, his features shadowed in the moonlight, pushed his way through the throng and rapidly gave a series of curt orders, which were immediately carried out.
Abbie’s empty pistol was snatched from her hand and given to the leader. Likewise, she was relieved of her gun-belt, holster and her Bowie knife, which in turn were passed to the one giving the orders. He examined them curiously for a brief moment and then issued a further instruction, at which point Abbie found herself picked up in a none too gentle fashion and carted along surrounded by a number of loud and gesticulating bandits.
Arriving at a group of buildings, a door was flung open and she was dumped unceremoniously on the bare floor of what had once been the cell of one of the long-deceased Franciscan fathers. The bandits left the tiny room. The heavy door was slammed shut and Abbie was left alone in her pain and misery.
Abbie wriggled and, sitting herself against the wall, she considered her position.
The little cell was about 10ft long by 6ft wide and no doubt had at one time contained a small wooden bed and the sparse possessions of the Franciscan. Now there was nothing. High up on one wall was a narrow window space devoid of glass but which permitted a certain amount of light to enter her prison.
Abbie rolled up the leg of her buckskin pants since her next task was to determine the amount of damage done by the bandit’s bullet. There was a hole on the right side of her left calf where the ball had entered and another larger hole on the outside of the leg where the missile had exited. From both wounds a small quantity of blood was flowing, though Abbie was relieved that the shot had apparently missed splintering or even hitting a leg bone.
She pulled up her buckskin shirt, thinking of the hours Billy Curtis had spent making the garments, and after much effort succeeded in tearing a long strip from the hem of her chemise. By dint of much rubbing, at length Abbie was able to fray the strip of material into three pieces, two short and one long. She then used the short pieces to plug the holes in her leg, gasping with the pain as she did so and frequently having to stop amid waves of dizziness that threatened to render her unconscious. At last the task was completed and Abbie wound the remainder of the chemise strip around the leg, covering both holes and tying it in a reef knot over the shin bone.
As she gingerly pulled her pant leg down over the wound, she retrieved the Colt from her left boot and tucked it into her waistband, meanwhile considering its limited possibilities. The Pocket model was designed purely for close-counter shooting, being of but .31 calibre and with a 3in barrel and a five-shot cylinder, of which only four chambers were loaded and capped. Abbie knew that, as Billy would have said, ‘She had to have an edge,’ in order to achieve any success with the limited weapon at her disposal.
Pinfire Lady Strikes Back Page 3