Return of the Gunhawk (The McCabes Book 3)

by Brad Dennison

  Ben said, “He ain’t got four hours.”

  Johnny glanced grimly at Joe, who shook his head again.

  Dusty called out, “Here they come again!”

  Johnny and Joe jumped up onto the top of the boulder. Five men were charging at the canyon, firing rifles as they did so. The rest of the men were back a bit, laying down cover fire. Johnny’s pistol now had six shots and he began placing them. Taking down one man, then another. But bullets were zinging around him, and one bullet tore into his shirt and he felt it burn against his ribs, but he didn’t flinch and kept shooting.

  Joe was standing beside him, now holding a Winchester at his left hip and scattering shots. Dusty was firing from his position.

  Two men were still on their feet and they pulled back.

  Joe said, “How long do you think we can keep this up?”

  “It depends on how many men Verna has hired. There might be more coming out from town. They have access to ammunition, but we have only what we have here at the canyon.”

  They looked back to Matt, who was now on his feet. He said, “Hatch is dead.”

  Johnny said, “Can you shoot?”

  Matt glanced at the torn shirt at his shoulder. It was soaking with blood, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. “You bet I can.”

  “I’m gonna lay down some cover fire. You get across the pass and join Dusty.” Johnny was pushing fresh cartridges into his revolver as he spoke.

  Matt drew his pistol and quickly checked the loads. He had five in the cylinder so he pulled a sixth from his gunbelt and thumbed it in. “Give the word.”

  “Now!” Johnny jumped up into view and began squeezing off shots, the pistol bucking in his hand.

  Joe joined him, holding his rifle at his hip. He wasn’t much of a shot from the left side, but he was scattering shots and getting most of them somewhat close. His scattergun was behind the boulder, should he need it.

  Matt ran. He threw a shot toward the men outside the canyon, covering the gravel expanse of ten feet from the larger boulder to the smaller one where Dusty was in three running steps, and dove behind the boulder. Dusty was kneeling behind the rock, squeezing off shots with his rifle.

  “Nice of you to join me,” Dusty said.

  Matt scrambled to his knees. “Thought you looked kind’a lonely over here.”

  Matt began firing with his pistol.

  “Cease fire!” Johnny called out. No need to waste any more ammunition.

  Dusty said to Matt, “Ain’t been to a shootin’ match like this in a couple of years.”

  “Was the attack on the ranch two summers ago as bad as they say?”

  “Depends on how bad they say. It wasn’t much different from this. Except we were in the house and they were charging in on horseback.”

  “My fault,” Matt said. “All my fault. Hatch is dead. He was a good man. I let this happen. How could I have done that?”

  Dusty was thumbing fresh cartridges into his rifle. “Sometimes things just get away from us. Part of bein’ human, I guess.”

  Johnny and Joe were again behind the rock. Johnny risked a peek up and beyond it, and a bullet ricocheted six inches from his head in response. He ducked back.

  “They got us covered,” Johnny said. “Looks like Dusty and Matt got a better view, but we show our heads and they take a shot.”

  “They can wait us out. Once night falls, they’ll have the advantage. It was a quarter moon last night and will be even less tonight. Not gonna be much light.”

  Ben climbed up to join them. “What are we gonna do?”

  “At this point,” Johnny said, “we can’t do much more than wait for their next move.”

  They didn’t have to wait long. A man called out. “McCabe! This is Marshal Wells!”

  Johnny said, “I guess I didn’t place my bullet as well as I thought.”

  Ben shook his head. “That man has no right wearing a badge.”

  Joe snickered. “Ain’t that the usual way with public office?”

  Johnny called back, “What do you want?”

  “We want you and Matt McCabe to surrender! And we want the rest of you out of this canyon by tomorrow mornin’!”

  “We got women and children in here!”

  “Ain’t none of my concern!”

  Ben said, “We could fall back to the house. Take position there. Shoot ‘em as they come into the canyon.”

  Johnny shook his head. Ben was a cowhand, not a military man. “All they’d have to do is wait until night, and come in under the cover of darkness. Like Joe said, there’s not going to be a lot of moonlight tonight.”

  Joe said, “And if reinforcements come from town, we could have as many as twenty or thirty men attacking the house in the darkness.”

  “I’m gonna have to turn myself in,” Johnny said.

  “Now, that’s just plain crazy talk. There won’t be any fair trial. They’ll convict you in a kangaroo court and lynch you.”

  “Maybe they’ll let Jessica and the others go.”

  “Do you really think they’ll do that? Doesn’t look to me like Verna or our nephew Hiram value human life all that much.”

  There was movement behind them and the three turned as once. Dan was there, holding a rifle.

  “I come to fight,” he said.

  Johnny nodded. “We can use the extra firepower.”

  “Where’s Father?”

  “He’s at the other side of the pass. A bullet grazed his shoulder but he seems to be all right.”

  They heard Dusty call out again. “Riders comin’!”

  Johnny looked at Joe and cursed under his breath. “Here they come. The reinforcements you talked about.”

  They heard hoofbeats growing louder, but it sounded like there were only two horses. Seemed to Johnny there should be more. Two wouldn’t make all that much difference.

  A man called out, “Cease fire! All of you! This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Aikens!”

  There was no gunfire from the other side. Johnny gave a questioning look to Joe who shrugged in response, and they climbed up onto the rock to see what was going on.

  Two riders sat in the saddle between the canyon entrance and the men outside. One was a man Johnny had never seen before. He had a thick, long white mustache and a flat-brimmed hat pulled tightly onto his head.

  The other rider was Sam Middleton.

  29

  Johnny, Joe and Matt walked out from the canyon. Johnny’s Colt was in its holster, but he could grab it fast enough if he had to. Joe once again had his scattergun. Wells and one of his men had emerged from their cover and were walking toward the riders. Wells had some blood soaking his shirt at his left shoulder, and was holding his arm gingerly. He seemed to be in about the same shape Matt was.

  The man with the big mustache held out what looked like a small billfold, and it fell open and Johnny could clearly see a marshal’s shield.

  “What’s going on?” Johnny said.

  Sam said, “I went to call in a favor. This man is Marshal Aikens.”

  The marshal said, “Which one of you is Johnny McCabe?”

  Johnny said, “I am.”

  “And Matt McCabe?”

  Matt said, “Right here.”

  “I have been out to see Hiram McCabe and his mother. I brought along a letter from State Supreme Court Justice McKinstry strongly urging them to have the charges against both of you dropped. They have been.”

  Johnny looked at Sam. “That must have been a whale of a favor you called in.”

  “It was. I helped them capture a fugitive. A murderer who has been wanted dead or alive for more than thirty years.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  That’s when Johnny noticed there were handcuffs on Sam’s wrists.

  Allowing prisoners to indulge in social visits was not protocol, but Marshal Aikens thought the offer of a cup of coffee sounded good so he and Sam rode up to the house with Johnny and the others and Jessica put a pot of coffee on.<
br />
  Sam stood in the parlor, his wrists in cuffs, a tin cup of coffee in one hand. The Marshal stood with him, a cup of coffee in his right hand, and his left was on the top of a wooden cane. He had surprised Johnny by producing it from his saddle where it had been tied on with a strip of rawhide. He walked as though his left knee had little strength and he used the cane with each stride.

  Sam said, his voice lacking its usual theatrical flair, “I killed a man in Mexico when I was nineteen years old. The year was eighteen and forty-three. I had ridden down there with my brother and a few others. We had rustled some steers in Texas and gotten ourselves into trouble, so we rode south of the border to lay low for a while. That’s when I got myself into real trouble.

  “It was in a cantina. A young vacquero began harassing me. I was dancing with a lovely young senorita, but he took exception to this. Me being a gringo, and all. That’s what they call us south of the border. Gringos. Except he preceded it with a few choice and very colorful adjectives. Needless to say, it led to a fight. He was good. I was better, but not by much. We battered each other almost senseless. But he died the following morning. The doctor said it was because of injuries he suffered in the fight. Possibly a fractured skull.”

  Sam paused to take a sip of his coffee. “Turns out it was the nephew of a very prominent Mexican general.”

  Johnny was standing across the room, a cup of coffee in his hand. Jessica was beside him, in a straight back chair Johnny had brought in from the kitchen.

  Johnny said, “For a card shark, that was really bad luck.”

  Sam grinned, “You see now why I never trust luck. Why I had Peddie helping me out in that card game.”

  Johnny couldn’t help but return the grin. There was something about this man that made it impossible to dislike him.

  Sam said, “The Mexican government has had a price on my head for quite some time. A substantial price. I was almost caught about a year later. Put a bullet in a young lawman’s leg when I was getting away. That young lawman, again unfortunately for me, was named Aikens.”

  Johnny shook his head and couldn’t help but chuckle. Jessica looked up at him like she didn’t quite get the joke. Peddie was sitting on the sofa with Matt, and she looked at Johnny with a little annoyance. She was protective of Sam because he had been so protective of her over the years. But Johnny couldn’t hold the chuckle back.

  Matt was smiling too. Joe was standing by the door with a coffee in one hand, and he was giving his crooked grin.

  Sam couldn’t help but nod and smile, and then he laughed. And Johnny laughed. And even Aikens found himself laughing.

  Sam said, “I changed my name from time to time. A couple of times I tried to settle down and build a life for myself. After all, a man can run only so long. I even fell in love once. But my past always caught up with me and I had to run.”

  Aikens said, “I’ll admit, I hated you for a long time. I’ve never been able to walk without a cane because of the bullet you put in me. But you were always a step ahead of us. More than a step, really. After the one time I almost caught you and you shot me, we were never even able to lay eyes on you. Not once. I eventually gave up the search. I had to, because it was eating me inside out. I doubt you ever would have been caught if you hadn’t given yourself up.”

  Sam told them how he had walked into Aikens’ house on a recent night. Aikens and his wife had been asleep. Sam poked Aikens in the side of the face with the working end of his pistol. Aikens opened his eyes and looked at Sam, who stood before him in moonlight drifting in through the window.

  “As I live and breathe,” Aikens said. “After all these years. You come to finish the job?”

  Sam shook his head. “I’m here to turn myself in. Providing a couple of conditions are met.”

  Sam said to Johnny, “I knew he didn’t rise to the position of Deputy U.S. Marshal without making some friends along the way. I didn’t know he had made the acquaintance of Justice Elisha McKinstry.”

  Aikens said, “Justice McKinstry wrote a letter stating that if charges weren’t dropped, there would be a federal investigation. All a bluff, of course. Just part of the deal we had to make for our man, here, to turn himself in.”

  Johnny said, “So, Sam Middleton is not your name.”

  Sam shook his head. “Allow me to introduce myself. Addison Jedidiah Travis. At your service.”

  Matt said, “That’s quite a mouthful. What do your friends call you?”

  “I have no friends.”

  Johnny said, “You do now.”

  After the coffee, the marshal and his prisoner went outside to their horses. Aikens tied the cane onto his saddle and then with his foot in the stirrup he had to bounce on his right toe three or four times to build up the momentum he needed because of his weakened left leg, and then swung up and over the saddle.

  Matt and Peddie were standing with Sam by his horse. Johnny and Jessica were to one side. Everyone was sort of milling around.

  Peddie said, “You’ve always been there for me.”

  He nodded. “I have to go away for a while. But,” he looked at Matt, “take care of her.”

  Matt said, “I will.”

  She threw her arms around Sam. He couldn’t return the hug because of his cuffed wrists.

  She said, “I don’t care what your name is. You’ll always be Sam to me.”

  “I’d have it no other way.”

  She stepped back, wiping away a tear.

  Johnny said, “What’s the next step?”

  Aikens said, “I’ll take him to a cell in Sacramento. From there he’ll be extradited to Mexico.”

  Johnny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn’t like the sound of that. He glanced at Joe and could see he felt the same.

  Johnny said to Sam, “You’re a man of many mysteries. I have a feeling we still don’t have the full story as to who you really are.”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t think I have the full story yet.”

  “What you did here today won’t be forgotten.”

  Jessica said, “We owe you.”

  Sam smiled at her. “No you don’t. I’ll be all right. Just live your lives. Treat each other well. Be happy. That’s all I ask.”

  Aikens said, “Come on. Let’s get riding. We have some miles ahead of us.”

  Sam swung up and into the saddle. Aikens started his horse along and Sam followed. He rode looking straight ahead in the saddle. He moved easily with the horse, a man who knew how to ride.

  Johnny and Jessica stood and watched as Sam and the marshal walked their horses down the long slope toward the canyon floor. Matt and Peddie were beside them. Joe, standing alone. Ben Harris was there. Tom and Lettie. Matt reached down and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Dan was there, his gunshot wound now mostly healed. Zack Johnson stood silently, Dusty beside him.

  They stood and watched until the riders had turned into the canyon entrance and were gone.

  Hatch, Wolf and Price were buried out behind the house. A grassy patch near the grove of aspens. For headstones they used wooden planks with their names and birthdates and deathdates burned in them. Except for Wolf. Ches had heard his Apache name before but for the life of him couldn’t begin to pronounce it, so they just used the name WOLF. Ches didn’t know his birthdate, so they just burned on D. DECEMBER 18, 1879.

  Tom read from the Bible. Not the usual piece about ashes to ashes, but instead the first section of the Gospel of John.

  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.”

  He had the Bible open, but Johnny noticed Tom wasn’t looking at it, but down at the graves. He was reciting this from memory.

  Tom said, “One of my favorite passages. I often turn to it when I’m in need of ass
urance. And in these days, I find myself in need of assurance a lot. These men, three good men, gave their lives for each of us present. As a minister, my job is to fill the air with words, to preach the holy gospel. But I find my words pale in comparison to their deeds. Their sacrifice for us is a greater sermon than I could ever deliver. So I ask instead that we offer a moment of silence.”

  Johnny stood in silence. Jessica was at his side, and her hand was in his. He could hear a crow calling from somewhere off in the distance. A winter bird. The leafless branches of the aspens creaked as they were touched by a light breeze.

  After dark, Johnny stood alone looking down at the canyon floor. No more need for guards. He stood as easily as he ever did, which was never really very easy. Ginny had said once he was forever in a perpetual state of war. He supposed he was. As he had these thoughts, he reached down absently with his right hand to brush it against the butt of his pistol. Loosening in the holster, just in case he needed to draw it in a hurry.

  Matt walked out. The moon overhead was a little less than a quarter moon, but provided enough light that Johnny could see Matt reach into his vest and pull out a cigar.

  “Found this in my jacket,” he said. “I thought I was all out, but I found this last one.”

  He broke it in two, and handed Johnny one half. Matt said, “Half of a good cigar is better than none at all.”

  Johnny struck a match and Matt leaned over and Johnny brought Matt’s half to life, then went to work on his own.

  Johnny said, “Mexican prison. That’s what’s waiting for him.”

  Matt said, “Yeah. I know.”

  “Prisons here in this country are no picnic. But what he’ll go through there will be ten times worse.”

  Matt nodded.

  “There’s not much worse than a Mexican prison. You talked to Peddie about that?”

  “Nope. Haven’t said a word. I just told her he’ll be all right.”

  “We owe him. You know that?”

  Matt nodded again. “And a McCabe pays his debts. What’ve you got in mind?”