Joe turned to watch his companion emerge from underneath the table. The cowboy seemed to have difficulty in moving. He crawled slowly and painfully forward. The man who was taking so much pleasure in hitting him now kicked him in the side of the head as his upper body came clear of the table. Butch toppled sideways groaning out loud. Joe’s hands twitched as he watched his pal being punished so brutally. He turned to Geraint.
‘Put that pistol down and face me like a man,’ he gritted out - rage making him almost incoherent.
Geraint laughed, exposing large, yellow, uneven teeth.
‘Make any moves against me and I’ll gut-shoot you first and then beat you to death.’
Butch came off the floor fast. His tormentor was not expecting the quickness of the move. He was raising the rifle to hit his victim again.
Butch went in under the upraised weapon. He struck hard, driving his blade into the middle of the chest and up into the rib cavity. The man’s eyes opened wide as did his mouth. His gasp of pain was harsh and very audible. Butch was gripping the man around the waist with his free hand as he buried the knife deep. He swung the man round to shield himself from possible bullets from Geraint or Miller.
The scuffle caught the attention of the big black man. He half turned towards the struggling pair. It was the opportunity Joe was seeking. He grabbed the Colt and at the same time smashed his fist into Geraint’s face. Unfortunately it was his wounded arm he had to use and the pain shot into his shoulder almost paralysing him.
Geraint instinctively pulled the trigger. The gun went off startling them both. Neither saw where the stray bullet went. Unfortunately it was aimed across the kitchen and entered the left breast of the big cook.
From the onset she had not moved from her position in front of the stove. The impact of the heavy slug pushed her back and her large buttocks pressed hard against the hot metal of the stove. She jerked forward and stumbled to her knees. Pressing her hand to the bullet hole in her chest she opened her mouth and began screaming.
On the other side of the kitchen Butch had grabbed the rifle from the guard’s hand. There was no resistance for the man was dying on his feet. He slid from Butch’s grasp and Butch now had possession of the rifle.
Miller jerked his head around to take in the struggles going on around him. With a swift movement he pulled Jessica close and snatched a revolver from a side holster.
Butch was bringing the purloined rifle to bear on the banker. He hesitated as he saw Jessica shielding him. Nearby, Joe and the giant Geraint struggled in grim silence for possession of the Colt. The big black was slowly winning. He had the advantage of weight and the fact that he was unwounded. Joe, with his damaged arm was at a desperate disadvantage as he struggled with his opponent.
Miller, taking in the fact that his bodyguards were unable to come to his assistance, let loose a shot at Butch. The bullet caught the cowboy in the side. Butch cursed as he felt the bullet rasp along his ribs.
He dropped to the floor and scrambled desperately beneath the large, wooden table. Miller sent another slug his way but this time hit the table leg. Seeing the state of his men, with one down and one tied up fighting Joe, the banker made his decision. He brought up the revolver and clubbed Jessica. As she dropped to the floor he wrenched open the door and disappeared through it.
From underneath the table Butch saw his enemy getting away and fired after him. The bullet punched a hole in the door as it closed behind Miller. He turned his attention to the struggle going on between Geraint and Joe.
Joe was getting the worst of it. His opponent, seeing the blood oozing from Joe’s upper arm, was furiously pounding his big fist into the bloody wound. Joe held on desperately but his strength was waning. It had been a gruelling few days and the stressful events had taken their toll of the big man’s considerable stamina.
Butch began the painful process of getting his wounded and battered body out from under the table and coming to his companion’s rescue. He heard a grunt from the two fighters and looked up fearing the worst. For a moment he stayed where he was.
‘My God,’ he breathed.
Ruth had taken a hand in the struggle. Kitchen tools hung from hooks on the wall. Knives, mallets, cutters, grinders and graters - all ready to hand when the cook needed them. Ruth had chosen a meat cleaver. It was a heavy bladed tool with a maple handle worn smooth with use.
Butch watched with horrified fascination as the blade rose in the air. There was a thud as it struck the big black man in the back of the head. It was the sound a turnip would make if dropped to a hard floor. For the girl it was a supreme moment of revenge. Though her master had ordered the flogging it was Geraint that had applied the lash. Her back was still hurting from that brutal punishment.
Under the impact of the blow, Geraint’s head jerked forward and butted Joe in the face. Blinded by the sudden pain as he was struck Joe made one last supreme effort to wrench the gun from his opponent. To his surprise the grip slackened and suddenly he was in possession of the Navy Colt. He stared into the widening eyes of the giant he had been wrestling with. The man opened his mouth as if to protest. The eyes dulled – the mouth went slack and the big black man’s head bent forward and nestled against Joe’s chest.
Still holding the weapon he had struggled so desperately to gain possession of, a bewildered Joe watched as his opponent slid to the floor. It was only when the black man knelt at his feet he saw the cleaver imbedded in the skull with the wood handle trailing down the stricken man’s back like tail of a coonskin hat.
He raised his eyes from the dying man and stared at the young black girl. She was standing gaping down at her handiwork. With wide startled eyes she looked up at Joe. Then she bent over and vomited on the dead man. On the other side of the kitchen the cook’s screaming had stopped. Her huge body rested against the front of the hot stove slowly being roasted.
33.
The big house was empty when they searched it. Granville Aloysius Garrett Miller had fled as had most of his servants.
‘He’ll go into town and bring the sheriff and his posse back with him,’ was Joe’s guess.
The searchers had armed themselves from the gunroom and were discussing options.
‘In that case we better hightail it outa here,’ was Butch’s contribution.
He looked pale and shaken. The side of his shirt was dark with blood from the fresh wound in his side. Blood had caked in his hair and face from the cuts in his scalp.
Joe looked in no better condition. His arm was soaked in blood from the wound in his arm. Geraint’s pounding had reopened the bullet wound and started the bleeding again. The two pals looked in no condition to take on a posse of armed men.
‘Where to?’
‘I guess we have to go out to that Corley place Miller spoke about. That’s where we’ll most likely find the young girl as those fellas kidnapped from Empire Fastness. Miller said as that’s where they were holding his wife. Trouble is we don’t know where it’s at.’
‘I can take you.’
The two battered men looked at the young black girl. She huddled close to Jessica. The girls were trying to comfort each other. Both girls looked worn out with great circles beneath their eyes.
‘I helped take food and clothes out there. I only ever saw men there. I never did see any females.’
‘Mebby they didn’t want you to see,’ Butch observed. ‘Anyway, I have to go and take a look. If she is there it’s probably the only way to fulfil my promise to that fella that I would find his sister.’
‘You’re right, Butch. But we’d need fresh horses. Those mounts of ours is plumb wore out.’
‘Where’ll we find new mounts? We sure as hell can’t go back in town.’
‘We have stables here,’ interjected Ruth. ‘Master Miller has stable of good horses. His wife loved riding and they often rode out when she was here.’
Joe and Butch looked at each other.
‘We might as well add horse stealing to our list of crimes. T
hey can only hang us once.’
‘It looks like it’s us two against the world.’
Their hands reached out and clasped.
Ruth led the mounted party to a little valley edging into the hills to the east of the place where they had fled from the posse. A small meandering creek lost itself in the distance. The sides of the valley were covered in purple and gold violets. The smell of pine wafted into the faces of the riders as they rode into the valley. They paused and examined the old Corley place.
In the shelter of a few isolated trees extending back into the valley nestled the log cabin with a steep roof for snow to slide off. There was a corral with a couple of horses and a spacious barn. Other than smoke drifting up from the chimney there was no sign of life.
‘Pretty a picture as I ever did see,’ Butch observed, as he looked on the peaceful scene. ‘Fella could run a few head of cattle and horses here. Build it up to make a good living.’
‘I guess,’ Joe said wistfully.
He was imagining bringing his wife here to live. Their child and any subsequent children would grow up strong and healthy in such an environment. He sighed deeply. His wife was back East and he reckoned she was lost to him forever. The further they progressed in this land the more outside the law they seemed to stray.
‘You two gals stay hid while Butch and I go down and give the place the once over. We don’t know if those killers left a guard.’
As they neared the cabin they could see a man busy harnessing two horses to a carriage. He had his back to the riders as they walked their horses into the yard. Huddled in the front seat inside travelling rugs were two women. No one took any notice of their approach.
‘That must be the guard. Mebby he’s getting ready to return the females to Coventree,’ murmured Butch.
The ride over had been hard. His head felt peculiar and his eyes kept going out of focus. But he was determined to see this thing through.
Riding beside him, Joe clung grimly on to his saddle. He couldn’t move his wounded arm. The pain had been bearable up until it had been hammered by Geraint’s big fist. The pounding had bruised and inflamed the wound. Now it felt as if a red-hot poker was being jabbed into the hole made by the bullet. Jagged streaks of pain radiated out from that side of his body. Joe wanted to slide to the dirt and lay there in the hope the pain would ease. But he knew he had to hang on till the bitter end. Butch and he had come this far. They would complete this task together.
The man by the carriage turned and in his hand was a large nickel-plated revolver. He was smiling grimly at the two men on the horses.
‘Thanks boys for bringing me my horses. I needed a couple of spare mounts. It was thoughtful of you to deliver them for me.’
‘Miller!’
The two friends stared in dismay at the banker. Joe had a shotgun taken from the gunroom back at Miller’s house. Because he was virtually one-handed he was caught with the weapon wedged into the saddle bucket.
Joe had his Remington pistols strapped to his waist. He had been reaching for one when Miller forestalled him.
The two battered men sat atop their mounts, staring blankly at the unexpected sight of Miller. They had imagined the banker back in Coventree organising the posse to come for them. Now here he was, getting ready to make a getaway and it looked as if he was taking the women with him.
‘Let the girl go, Miller,’ Joe called. ‘She’s nothing to you.’
Miller smiled grimly at the man atop his mount taking note of the pain-etched features of the big man.
‘I think not, my friend. I can’t take the chance of leaving any witnesses. Now if you just throw down those weapons and then step carefully down from those horses I’ll be on my way as soon as I tie them to the back of this wagon.’
Imperiously he gestured with the gun.
‘I don’t want to chance harming the horses by shooting at their riders.’
The two friends glanced at each other. They realised there was no option but to comply. The banker had the drop on them. Reluctantly they drew their weapons and tossed them into the yard.
‘Now get down and lie in the dirt.’
It was painful and frustrating to obey but they were helpless in the face of that revolver pointing in their direction. Miller was so engrossed in the two riders he did not see one of the women rise from her seat in the carriage. He was busy smiling triumphantly at the two men.
‘I had a good little racket going till you two came along. I was able to pass information about banks and shipments of money and gold to my men. I used to call them Miller’s Raiders. We amassed a nice little fortune. They kept their share here.’
Miller tossed his head backwards indicating the carriage.
‘When I leave here with my beloved wife I’ll have enough to start up again somewhere else.’
They watched Mrs Miller shrug out of the travelling rug. She was wearing a brocaded dress in a heavy dark green material. With unsteady hand she reached out and plucked the whip from its brass socket. Experimentally she dangled the whip, swinging it back and forth. With a sudden flick of her arm she swung viciously at the man holding the pistol.
With a crack the thong wrapped round the banker’s face. He screamed out as the leather cut into the soft tissue of his eye. As he staggered forward he put his hands to his face.
The leather thong came free and the woman swung the whip round again readying for another strike. Joe threw himself upon the discarded shotgun. His shoulder jarred and for a moment he was paralysed with pain. With his good arm he kept scrabbling for the gun.
Beside him Butch, more used to working with animals from his experience as a cowboy, yelled out and swiped his mount across the withers. The horse jumped wildly and pranced forward. Miller, half-blinded, could see only the shape of the horse charging towards him. He brought up his pistol. Before he could fire the startled animal was upon him. As he was knocked to the ground Miller screamed again and the terrified horse reared.
The banker seeing the danger tried to roll aside. Sensing the man beneath him the horse tried to swing itself to the side to avoid trampling him. Unfortunately banker and horse moved in the same direction. Hooves came down. There was a sickening crack of an iron-shod hoof striking bone and Miller stopped screaming.
As the horse skittered aside, the banker’s body could be seen twitching in its death throes. Butch brought the frightened horse under control. A woman’s hysterical sobs was the only sound to break the peace of that little valley.
Butch and Joe stood beside the buggy. Ruth sat in the driving seat holding the reins. In the rear seat was Jessica with a comforting arm around a young girl sitting pale and hunched inside her travelling blanket. Mrs Miller was standing beside the buggy with Joe and Butch.
‘Mrs Miller there’s no way in which we can thank you for what you done,’ Joe said.
The big man towered over the woman in the green dress. She smiled wanly up at him her face pale but composed.
‘It’s me that owes you. My husband was an evil man. It took a long time for me to discover just how evil. If you men hadn’t come along who knows how long he may have carried on destroying people’s lives.’
‘What’ll you do now,’ Butch asked.
The woman smiled wearily at the cowboy before replying.
‘I’ll go back to Coventree. Maybe I can make some reparation for all the trouble my husband caused. I’ll try anyway. What are your plans for the future?’
The two men looked at each other.
‘Ma’am we ain’t got any future,’ Joe answered morosely. ‘Officially we’re escaped convicts. We just have to keep on moving.’
Impulsively she reached up and taking Butch’s face in her hands kissed him. She did the same with Joe. Then they helped her up into the buggy.
‘If you two change your minds there’s always a place for you here. I will need strong men to help me run Miller Holdings.’
Joe shook his head.
‘Someday they’ll come looking for
us. You’d only get in trouble for harbouring two fugitives.’
Not looking at the people in the buggy Joe reached out and whacked the horse across the rear end. The vehicle lurched forward taking the women out of the yard.
‘Let’s go, pal. They’ll be sending someone out to fetch Miller’s body. We’d better be long gone.’
The two men mounted, stiff and sore from their many injuries then rode slowly into the little valley.
‘How you holding up, Joe?’
‘I’ve this horrible feeling if Sheriff Patterson had delivered us to the penitentiary like he should have, the last few weeks would have been a whole lot pleasanter.’
‘I guess. Where you reckon on heading now?’
‘I’ve a mind to head for Mexico. Might be safer there seeing the law don’t stretch over the border. What about you?’
‘Maybe I’ll head for California. I have this hankering to get me a sight of the ocean.’
‘Mmm… there’s an ocean down off the Mexican coast…’
They rode further into the valley, their voices fading into the distance. The purple and gold violets carpeting the slopes blazed with iridescence in the hot sun and peace settled gently in that remote place.
If you enjoyed Brothers in Arms you might be interested in Shooting Match by Philip McCormac, also published by Endeavour Press.
Extract from Shooting Match by Philip McCormac
Chapter One
The youngster’s face was flushed from his exertions and sweat poured down his lean cheeks. He was crouched in a fighting stance with his fists balled. Beneath his cotton shirt knotted muscles bulged and writhed as he worked his arms, feinting and ducking. Moving lightly on his feet, he looked for an opening.
The man facing him couldn’t have been more different. For a start he was large and heavily built. A slight smile played about his lips as he swayed and moved before the youngster. His nose had been flattened in some earlier bout and gave his face a battered look – like an old bull that had been buffeted in many bruising affrays.
Brothers in Arms Page 14