The Traherns #1

by Nancy Radke

  “How did it happen?”

  “He wanted to give Travers a bone. I don’t want the dog to get used to taking things from other people. Mr. Debras said some people might try to poison him.”

  “What did you do with the bone?”

  “Threw it out into the brush for the coyotes. Oh, my.”

  “Call him back.”

  “Travers. Come!”

  He came loping back and I felt thankful that it was not from the direction I’d thrown the bone. I looked at that dog and he sort of grinned at me. He was probably all right.

  “I don’t know if he would have chewed on it or not,” I told Gage. “He prefers to kill his own food. Anyway, that man was all apologetic. Wanted to give the dog a bone and tell me why we were attacked.”

  “Maybe he was just trying to impress you.”

  “Well, he didn’t. That was a foolish thing for him to do. I wonder how many other people he’s told?”

  “One too many, if he’s telling the truth. All they have to do is stop us at a steep place where the mules have to slow down. We wouldn’t be able to outrun them. The only reason we made it today was because Travers let us know something was wrong. If the stage had stopped, we might all be dead.”

  “You saved us, by pulling the stage onto a knoll and getting us all out before they had a chance to run us down.”

  “True. But next time, they’ll try something different. In the stage, you have no chance at all. You can shoot out, but those stage walls aren’t made to keep out bullets. If the bullets start flying around, those of you inside will be like ducks on a pond. We need to get you out of the stage and onto a horse. You can ride, can’t you?”

  “Yes. Not like you can, but I’d stay on. I rode Trey’s horse, whenever he’d let me.”

  The only times I’d seen Gage in the mountains was when he’d ride to our house, all dandied up, to court Mary. She flirted with him, but we all knew he was a wandering man with no staying around in him, so even she didn’t take him seriously.

  But I was taking him serious now. He had picked up a heap of knowledge drifting around the country, and he knew how to handle himself in a fight. So if he told me I was safer on a horse than in the stage, I took his word.

  “A horse means you can move, fast. And if there’s anyone out, shooting riders, they’ll see you’re a woman and not shoot you. Hopefully. But they can’t see you in the coach, so if they shoot into it, you can be as dead as the gent next to you.”

  “Should we wait here for the next coach?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that. There might not be room for you to ride in it, and then we’d have to wait longer. And who’s to say it won’t get attacked?”

  “What should I do, Gage?”

  “Does that skirt of yours allow riding?”

  “Yes. It’s my traveling skirt. It has a split in it so I can ride if I need to.”

  “Thought I’d noticed that. I’ll see if’n I can buy you a horse for the rest of the trip. And a saddle. You can carry your rifle with you. That was too awkward, having to give people the rifles when we were attacked. Slowed down our response.

  “Think about it,” he added. “If’n you were shooting for the greatest effect, would you rather shoot at one person or a bunch all grouped together?”

  “Grouped,” I said. “Like we would be if we stayed inside the coach.”

  “It gives a false sense of security.”

  “Is there anything else we could do? Suppose they hit us tomorrow, before we get me a horse?”

  “A distraction? I could rearrange the luggage, put some of that gent’s money on the top. The driver could open one up and heave it off. Might make the robbers stop to gather it.”

  “At least open the cases and make sure he wasn’t just blow-harding me.”

  “Well, I signed on to help protect the passengers and the coach. I’ll talk to the Wells Fargo men who are here at the station, including the driver. I’ll do what they ask, if it’s reasonable. When a shipment of gold or money goes through, there should be guards and no passengers. But I don’t think they do it that way. The freight would probably cost more to ship.”

  I turned to go back inside and Gage caught my hand.

  “Thank you, Ruth,” he said, giving it a firm squeeze. “You may have saved all our lives by speaking up.”

  I caught his gaze in the lights from the windows. His eyes were serious. Not the dancing, teasing look he used to give me. This was the look of a mature man. A man who knew how to fight. A different Gage than I had ever known.

  He opened the door for me and I went inside, Travers with me. I could leave our safety up to Gage. I knew he’d be able to handle it, if anyone could. He’d been the one to bring the coach to a better defensive position before the outlaws could get close. He was the one who got us out of the stage and armed. He had given the orders that had saved our lives.

  While we were waiting for the new driver to come through to replace the one who’d been shot, Gage and one of the soldiers removed all the wheels plus the extra wheel that was tied onto the coach, and soaked them to make the wooden spokes swell and fit more firmly in the iron rims. I knew they didn’t want a wheel flying off if we had to make a run for it. As soon as the driver came, they replaced them and we got into the coach. Gage had the heavyset man, who had proved how well he could shoot, move up and sit shotgun beside the driver. And he handed each of us our rifles, loaded, and extra ammunition.

  “Keep it with you at all times,” he told us. “If those outlaws want to try again, we will give them something to think about. If we are forced to stop, don’t stay in the coach and don’t stay in a group. Grab your guns and scatter. We know these men won’t hesitate to kill. The station man was not meant to live. Nor were we.”

  It stopped the exchange of stories and general conversation. The men sitting next to the windows kept watch, and the rest of us just sat there silent, each one with his own thoughts.

  I was listening for Travers. I figured he would give first warning.

  The morning was still early as we came down into a shallow hollow, where trees announced the presence of water. Suddenly Travers barked and jumped from the stage. The stage stopped.

  We sat inside for a second, wondering what was going on. Then one of the men jumped out with his gun and the rest of us followed. I hit the ground running, saw a boulder and dropped behind it.

  Then nothing.

  No sound.

  I looked out enough to see the driver still sitting on the coach, but Travers and the man riding shotgun were out of sight. So was Gage.

  I waited for what seemed like long enough for corn to grow, then suddenly Travers stuck his nose in my hand. I just about left the ground.

  He gave me a couple of “howdy” licks, then took off, nose to ground, still checking things out.

  Eventually Gage called, “All clear.” I stood up with the rest of the passengers. The driver took the stage on down into the hollow and we all walked down behind it.

  “What did Travers bark at?” I asked, when I got close to Gage.

  “There’s a dead man over in those rocks. He’d been hastily buried by throwing some dirt on his body. Travers dug at him, so I put a rope on him and pulled him out. I’m not sure, but I think it may have been one of the men who attacked us. He’s not a pretty sight, so stay back. I’ll see if any of the men recognize him.”

  “You think they brought him this far, then he died?”

  “Or they shot him because he wasn’t able to keep up.”

  “If he was with them, we know they’re ahead of us.”

  “Yes.” He paused, then added, “I put your bag on last and didn’t tie it down. Just in case you need to grab it quickly. Travers sleeps on it.”

  “He’s a good dog.”

  “He is that. There’s a steep spot just ahead. The driver says it’s been the scene of several holdups. I’ll be riding ahead, checking it out, but I want you out of the coach.”

  “Wouldn’t
he want everyone out, if it’s steep?” I asked. “We could all follow along, strung out, carrying our rifles. It would seem logical. As a woman, and therefore the slowest looking, I could bring up the rear.”

  Gage reached into his boot and pulled out a small derringer. “Do you have any place hidden where you could carry this? The more prepared you are, the better.”

  “My skirt has a deep pocket.”

  “Do you know how to use it?”

  “Oh, yes. Trey taught us rifles and handguns. And shotguns.”

  “It’s loaded.”

  “No good if it weren’t.” I carefully put it into my pocket, pointed down, with the grip ready to hand.

  “One shot. Make it count.”

  I nodded.

  The driver called, “All aboard,” and I joined the others inside. This time I asked for and got a window seat where I could look up the road.

  Gage may have been overly cautious, but a person who isn’t prepared is usually the first victim. The one ready to act is the one who comes out alive.

  About an hour later the mules slowed down and the coach jostled over some rocks. I looked outside.

  This must be the stretch Gage spoke about. I stuck my head out the window and hailed the driver. “Hi. Let me walk awhile.”

  “Mighty steep here, miss. And rocky.”

  “All the more reason to walk. Mules will be going slow. We can all get out, make it easier for them.”

  “Not me,” the portly gent exclaimed. “This hill’s too steep for me.”

  “Same here.”

  “Bring your guns along. No good to you left in here,” I said.

  The coach stopped and I stepped out, rifle in hand. All the rest followed except the portly man.

  As the coach started forward again, I let the others start walking, then I started, slowly bringing up the rear. One of the passengers who said he’d been a sailor for awhile walked beside me.

  “Think they’ll hit us here?” he asked, seeing me looking around.

  “I’d hit us here,” I replied. “Do you have a bullet in the chamber?”

  “No.”

  “Put one in. It may be the difference.”

  We reached the top of the rocky stretch without incident. The coach stopped, but I liked to walk. Looking ahead to the rocky road with small hills on each side of it, I figured I’d stay outside a spell. He couldn’t go fast over those rocks and it would throw us around inside like butter in a churn.

  The round rocks were hard to walk on, for unlike a mountain trail that went around a rock, these were all over and right in the middle of the way. It was actually harder to walk on them than on a mountain trail. It was hard to call it a road, for there was little dirt in-between the rocks, and they tipped and moved as we stepped on them.

  The second portly gent climbed inside, but the others looked at me and waved the driver on.

  Suddenly Travers alerted, barking and jumping off the luggage. The two men jumped out of the coach while the rest of us scattered into the rocks.

  A shot came from up front, where Gage was, and I don’t know if he shot or was shot. I was busy running to a good-sized boulder I’d picked out as we walked, when a man rose up from behind it and shot our driver. I shot him at about the same time, saw him drop and continued up to where he lay. I grabbed his gun and crouched in the shelter of that rock.

  We were in a Mexican standoff. We couldn’t move, but they couldn’t rob the coach because we were covering each other and it with our rifles.

  I crouched there in the heat and thought of Gage. Was he hurt or dead?

  I couldn’t imagine him dead. He brought life and joy to everybody. Like Mary, he had always livened up wherever he was. He acted sort of happy-go-lucky, but I realized he had developed a serious side. I wasn’t ready for him to be dead. Not knowing what else to do, I started praying and a’watchin for someone to shoot.

  Then I heard a snarl and a man’s scream and realized Travers had snuck up on one of the outlaws and was dealing with him in his own way.

  The man stood up, trying to get away and was shot by one of us, not me. My angle wasn’t right.

  This wasn’t turning out the way they’d planned. They were higher up than us in the rocks, but they couldn’t get down without exposing themselves to our fire. And evidently they hadn’t planned on retreating, as we could shoot them any time they came out of cover.

  So we waited. And waited.

  Then Gage’s voice, clear and loud, brought it to an end. I was so happy to hear his voice, I felt like dancing. I’d wondered if I would ever hear it again.

  “I have your horses. Throw down your guns and surrender. If we wait until dark, I’ll send the dog after you. He’ll take you all out, one by one. I guarantee, you won’t see him coming.”

  Then he added for our benefit, “Let them go down to the road where we can keep an eye on them. There should be five left.”

  Four men stood up, hesitantly, and I looked at the dead man at my feet. Was he number five?

  They dropped their guns and scrambled down to the road.

  “How many horses do you have?” I called out.

  “Seven. And two pack animals. I have one dead here.”

  “I got one dead here, and Travers got one, so that should be all of them.”

  We all came out of our cover, slowly. One of the men climbed over to where Travers had made the outlaw stand up.

  “This one’s dead,” he called

  “Good,” said Gage.

  “They shot our driver. I don’t think they planned to keep anyone alive. None of them wore masks.”

  I was standing on the edge of the group and moved forward as Travers came back.

  “I’ll get their guns,” the heavyset man said, and went to the spots where the men had been hiding, gathering the rifles left there. I had the rifle from the man I’d shot.

  I’d never shot anyone before and I felt shaky all of a sudden.

  The heavyset man stood beside the last rock with all the rifles in his hand. He stayed there for long enough that I looked more closely to see what he was doing. He was waiting for something.

  I felt a gun pressed to my side, at the same time someone’s arm went around my neck.

  “Everyone. Drop your weapons.”

  It was the portly gent who had told me of the money.

  He jabbed his gun into my side, and I let my rifle drop, along with the one I’d picked up.

  “Get off your horse and join them,” the heavyset man who had gathered the weapons told Gage, swinging his gun to cover Gage. So, he was one of the outlaws, too. Was there any more of them?

  5

  I looked at Gage and saw him wink just as he spun his horse around and start to dismount. I thrust my hand in my pocket and bit the man’s arm.

  He pushed me away. I turned and fired the derringer into the portly man, knowing that Gage was taking out the man with the rifles.

  He was. I could see him as the portly man gasped and dropped the rifles.

  Gage had drawn his pistol as he dismounted, and shot the man from behind his horse, then spun and covered the outlaws who had started forward to get the rifles from the passengers.

  “Don’t yuh!”

  One continued to reach down and Gage shot him.

  The other three stepped back, hands in the air.

  “Tie them. And tie up our portly friend here,” he ordered.

  As the others reclaimed their rifles and one got out some rope, Gage walked up the slope to where the passenger he’d shot lay.

  He called, “Some of you need to carry this fellow down. He’s still alive.”

  They carried him down and dumped him on the ground. None of us felt too kindly towards men who had intended to kill us.

  It was over in just a few minutes.

  My legs were shaking and I sat down on the nearest rock. There had been no time to think about things, just to react. I knew I’d reacted well, as we were still alive. Which was why the portly gent had apolo
gized to me.

  I wasn’t supposed to be on that stage, a woman traveling. I’d been added at the last minute. He’d probably figured it no big deal to kill men, but hadn’t wanted to kill a woman. Although the gun jammed up against my side was none too gentle.

  I just sat there and let the men do the cleaning up. The only ones left alive were the three Gage and I had shot with handguns.

  Gage brought in the horses and had the outlaws tie their men across the pack frames. Then Gage tied each one of them onto their horses and roped the horses all together in a line.

  We put the dead driver inside, along with the three wounded men, tied up. The rest of us pushed that stage to get it rolling again, then walked behind it to the top of the rocky place. At that time the men all climbed up on the top of the stage to ride there.

  The English gent grabbed the reins. “I can drive, barely, but out here I figure they will be used to following the road.”

  “I’ll ride one of the extra horses,” I said. “I doubt I can climb up on top of the stagecoach and maintain any propriety at all.”

  Gage brought over a horse for me to ride and helped me on. He lifted me up on the horse as if I was thistledown, weighing nothing, but if I didn’t, the heavy traveling dress I wore surely did. He was a strong man.

  He adjusted the stirrups, and handed me the reins. “You did a fine job there, Ruth. Saved our lives.”

  I looked down at him. “It was your planning that saved us, Gage. They didn’t expect me to have a gun in my pocket. But we expected one of them, not two, to be involved.”

  “We’ve lost time, dealing with these scum. I guess the mail might not make it on time, this trip. Are you all right? I doubt you’ve had to shoot anyone before.”

  “Just a little shaky. Men who try to kill other men usually die violently. I can’t help that they chose that life.”

  We rode along, stirrup to stirrup, talking.

  “We make a good team,” Gage said. “We need to work together more often.”

  “Killing outlaws, we do. I don’t know about other things.”

  “We’ll have to see. What kind of job are you going to do in San Francisco?”