The Bandera Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “Comprender,” they said, in one voice.

  “Solano,” said Clay, “I want you to ride ahead and remain with the horse herd. Explain to Estanzio and Mariposa what I have just told you. When you reach the valley just south of the soldado camp, hold the horse herd there. Once we arrive with the longhorns, both herds will be held there until we’re ready for them to run. Comprender?”

  “Comprender,” said Solano. He rode quickly away.

  “I’ll take your place with the herd, Ramon,” said Clay. I want you to talk to the rest of the riders, tell them what I’ve told you. Be sure they understand. Every rider not actually involved in freeing the men from the guardhouse is to pursue the herd, keeping the horses and longhorns bunched and moving. Tell them to hold their fire unless forced to defend themselves. I aim to scatter those soldado horses from here to yonder, but something could go wrong, and we’ll need all our ammunition at the border. Comprender?”

  “Comprender,” said Ramon, and he rode away in the darkness.

  Angelina kneed her horse close to Clay’s, and when she reached for his hand, she found it seeking her own. When she spoke there was anxiety in her voice.

  “Now that the time nears, I am afraid. Not for myself, but for those who are placing their lives in our hands. Perhaps the darkness and the stampede will separate us, but I will pray that in the new light of the dawn, we will again be together in Texas. Vaya con Dios.”

  The Big Dipper said it was nearing two o’clock in the morning. The trail drive was two hours south of the Matamoros outpost, and it was but one hour until Clay Duval would ride ahead to set the charges. Finally, in that darkest hour before the dawn, there would be no turning back. With hearts in their throats and guns in their hands, behind a thundering herd, they would make their bid for freedom!

  23

  After the humiliating ultimatum from Captain Diaz, Major Farias returned to his quarters, but only until the post settled down. Farias then took his pistol and his rifle and crept into the night. From the day he had encountered that cursed trail drive, it seemed that El Diablo himself had taken a personal interest in the life of Major Gomez Farias. He had seen a man beneath that barred guardhouse window, and so bold a man might return. All the proof that Farias had, insofar as that elusive trail drive was concerned, was the pair of Tejanos he had taken prisoner. He vowed they would not be stolen from him, if he had to patrol this wretched outpost himself, until General Paradez returned. Still, he must not incur the further, wrath of Captain Diaz, lest this entire affair be presented to General Paradez in an unfavorable light. Farias knew he needed some vantage point from which he could see most of the area without exposing himself. This outpost, he decided, had been laid out by a pulque-sodden pelado. It was strung out in a line, with the horse barn and corral at the eastern end. The only structure from which he might see any distance was the log barn, with its hay-filled loft. To his dismay, he found that while he could see the officers’ quarters and the enlisted men’s barracks, he was able to see only the front of the guardhouse. Beyond that, the commanding officer’s quarters was only a pair of lighted lamps in the darkness. By four o’clock the moon would have set and the world would become as black as the inside of a chimney. But his anger toward the righteous Captain Diaz had not abated, and as long as he could see, he would wait.

  A few minutes before three o’clock, Clay Duval left the longhorn herd and rode north. Reaching the little valley he had mentioned to Solano, he found the horse herd already there, waiting. The three Indian riders rode out to meet him.

  “Solano,” said Clay, “the horses behind the guardhouse will be hobbled, so we can hold them. I need you somewhere else. You know where the soldado horse corral is, and I want you there before our herd starts to run. When you hear the estampeda coming, pull down the corral fence and scatter the soldado horses. Then quickly ride within rifle range of the soldado casas. When the estampeda comes, the soldados will come runnin’ out. Throw some lead among them, drive ’em back inside, if you can. If they return your fire, back off and ride out of range. When the estampeda has passed, ride away to the west and circle in behind the guardhouse. We may still be there, needin’ your help with the prisoners. If we’re gone, hightail it and catch up to the herd. While you’re waitin’ for Ramon and the longhorn herd, the three of you get the saddled horses ready for the men in the guardhouse. See that every saddle boot has a rifle, and that a belt rig with a pistol is thonged to every saddle horn. Be sure, Solano, that you tell Ramon you’re going to scatter the soldado horses. Comprender?”

  “Comprender,” said Solano.

  “Mariposa,” said Clay, “you and Estanzio will go with Ramon and Angelina, taking the thirteen saddled horses. Ramon knows the best way to get them in behind the guardhouse, well away from the blast. Once there, hobble the hind legs of every caballo, including your own. Use slipknots, so that when the roofs blown off the jail we can all run for it. Comprender?”

  “Comprender,” said the pair, in one voice.

  “Amigos,” said Clay, extending his hand. One by one they took it. Clay then rode north, and was soon lost in the darkness.

  Clay looked up at the darkening sky. By the time he reached the outpost, the moon would have set, lessening the danger of his being seen. His mind raced as he tried to think of something vital he might have overlooked. The stampeding herd would come between the soldier barracks and the guardhouse, offering them a few minutes’ protection from the soldiers. Solano scattering the soldiers’ horses would leave them afoot, unable to pursue the stampede and lessening chances of a fight at the border. What bothered him—the one factor over which he had no control—was the blowing of the roof. It was a clumsy, unpredictable, and dangerous plan, but they had no other. He sighed and rode on.

  He rode in from the west, and at first saw only the one lamp’s glow in the post commander’s quarters. Drawing nearer, he saw a second glow, not as bright, and realized it was bleeding through a partially open door. There was a second lamp in the parlor, which faced the guardhouse. He rode in behind the building, passed to the rear of it, and reined up in the area behind the guardhouse where they would have to hold the extra horses. From his saddlebag he took a yard-long length of rope, knotting one end of it to each of his horse’s hind legs. The horse could take only short, stilted steps, and could not spread its hind legs enough to rear. Clay took the saddlebags with their blanket-wrapped powder charges and set out afoot for the rear of the guardhouse. The stars had already begun to dim, and the Big Dipper told him he had only a few minutes. He hung the saddlebags around his neck and again climbed the young oak at the back corner of the guardhouse. He would set the last charge here before leaving the roof. Staying well below the roofs peaked ridge, he crept to the front corner, facing the post commander’s quarters. Lying on his belly, he leaned over the edge of the roof, jamming one of his blanket-wrapped charges under the corner of the eave. From there he crept to the ridge of the A-frame roof. He paused, listening. He must place two of the charges on the side of the building next to the assembly ground, and beyond that, the soldiers’ barracks. Taking a deep breath, he crept down the roof to the other front corner. Lying on his belly, head over the edge, he placed his second charge. Slowly he moved along the roof to the rear corner and placed a third charge. He sighed with relief when he crossed the roofs ridge and descended to the back corner at which he would place the fourth and last charge. Finished, he stepped into the oak and made his way to the ground. He dug into his saddlebags again, seeking the little oilskin pouch Ramon had given him. In it was a block of yellow-headed, phosphorous matches, and a rough, dry, flat stone upon which to strike them. They must be struck quickly and properly. Repeated attempts usually popped the heads off, making them useless.

  Clay returned to his hobbled horse, the packet of matches in his hand. He was as jittery as a squirrel in a treeful of bobcats. He wondered how much time Ramon had allowed himself to get the horses here before the rest of the riders would get the stamped
e under way. These would not be the Mendoza horses, but those taken from the soldiers. Why risk having their hard-won blooded animals wounded or killed in a gunfight? These soldiers would be afoot, but just across the assembly ground, well within rifle range. Once the stampede was out of the way, the soldiers could cut loose with a hail of lead. They’d be lucky, Clay thought grimly, if horses were all that died there behind the guardhouse. Just when he was ready to give the whole thing up for a lost cause, Ramon, Angelina, Estanzio, and Mariposa rode in with the extra horses on lead ropes. Ramon led four, and each of the others led three.

  “Mariposa,” said Clay, “you and Estanzio slipknot hobble your horses. Ramon, you and Angelina stay mounted, and keep your lariats ready. We may need your horses to pull down some walls. I want all of you with the horses’ until the roof blows. I’ll stay afoot, because I may have to help somebody out of the rubble once the roof is down. Now let’s hobble these extra horses. Hind legs with slipknots. We don’t have much time.”

  Suddenly, from somewhere beyond the soldiers’ barracks, there were two quick shots.

  “Solano!” cried Angelina. “Solano’s in trouble!”

  “If he is,” said Clay, “we’re all in trouble.”

  “Estampeda come!” said Ramon.

  Sounding far away, yet distinct, Clay heard it. He ran, knowing every second was crucial. Reaching the corner of the guardhouse where he had set the fourth charge, Clay popped a match into flame. His trailing wool “fuse” caught readily. Each makeshift “fuse” had been doubled, doubled again, and then doubled a third time, lest they burn too rapidly. He ran to the next corner, lighted the trailing fuse to the first charge, then rounded the front of the guardhouse to the other side. His makeshift fuses to the second and third charges were only half the length of the two he had already lighted. Once the last two were burning, he ran toward the hobbled horses. Already, as a result of the shots, there was a babble of voices and excited shouts from across the assembly ground. But all other sound was lost as the first and fourth powder charges blew. It was good timing, one blast seeming the echo of the other. The leading longhorns were already pounding across the assembly ground. The leaders tried to turn, but had nowhere to go except straight ahead. Then, on the side of the guardhouse nearest the stampede, just seconds apart, the second and third powder charges blew. The longhorns thundered on, those nearest the blast hooking their front-running companions in their eagerness to escape this earthly hellfire. Shakes from the roof fell like rain, and clouds of white smoke hung in the darkness like pale fog. Clay stumbled to his feet and started for the wreckage. Ramon and Angelina, mounted, were right behind him. The ten captive Texans brought in by General Paradez had been fortunate. On their side of the jail, the first two blasts had gone off simultaneously. The roof had buckled in the middle, toppling the wall, allowing the captives to scramble out unhurt. They ran to the waiting horses. Gil, Van, and Long John hadn’t been so fortunate. Their wall had held, and although the roof lay flat, it still effectively trapped them in their cell.

  “Ropes!” cried Clay.

  From their saddles, at opposite ends of the log wall, Ramon and Angelina looped their lariats around log ends. Lead began thudding into the logs as three rifles cut loose beyond the assembly ground. Ramon and Angelina backed their horses away from the wall, dragging it down with a crash. Without the support of the wall, the collapsed roof broke up. Seconds before it fell in a pile of rubble, Long John, Van, and Gil scrambled out. With both walls of the guardhouse down, a rifle opened up from the commanding officer’s quarters. There was fire coming from both sides, but it was still too dark for accurate shooting. First light was just minutes away, and the stampede was gone. A few longhorns loped across the assembly ground, heading back the way they had come, bawling like lost souls.

  “To the horses!” shouted Clay.

  The ten liberated Texans had already set off at a gallop, following the remnant of the stampede. When they reached the horses, Mariposa and Estanzio had them ready.

  “Amigos,” said Clay, “they left just three or four men here. That means we’ll have to fight our way across the border. I tried to avoid that, by sendin’ Solano to scatter their horses, but he didn’t make it. You heard the shots. I’ll just have to take my chances at the border, but I’m goin’ after Solano. Who wants to go with me?”

  Angelina kneed her horse over next to Clay’s. Mariposa, Estanzio, and Ramon followed.

  “I’d go with you,” said Gil, “but I have unfinished business here. Ride back this way, and we’ll head for the border together. Van, I’ll need you to watch my back; I’m going after Rosa.”

  “Do I gotta ride t’ the border an’ git shot by m’sef,” Long John asked, “er can I wait an’ go with the outfit?”

  “Stick with Van,” said Gil. “You’re welcome to get shot at the border with the rest of us. For right now, you and Van find yourselves some kind of cover where you can see that commanding officer’s house. I’ll take my chances with whoever’s in the house, but I’ll be in full view of those Mex sharpshooters over there in the barracks. It’s been dark, and they haven’t really had anything to shoot at. That’s about to change.”

  Van and Long John took cover behind the blown-out wall and its resulting rubble, which faced the commanding officer’s quarters. Gil left his horse far behind the ruins of the guardhouse and ran for the log structure where he believed he would find Rosa. Almost immediately someone in the cabin cut loose with a rifle. Gil zigzagged on, while somewhere behind him, Long John or Van, began pouring lead through the front windows. The firing from the cabin ceased, and Gil leaped to the long porch that spanned the length of the front of the building. The few soldiers left behind had discovered where Van and Long John had taken cover and, with good light, had begun firing in earnest. Gil, with his back against the wall, moved up beside the shattered window. There was a heavy curtain, and he could see nothing. Suddenly, flames shot to the top of the window, devouring the curtain. The place was afire! Drawing his pistol, Gil kicked the door as hard as he could. Unlocked, it slammed back against the inside wall. A man lay facedown on the floor, and he wore the gold-braided coat of a Mexican army officer. His hand still clutched the muzzle of his rifle. Some of the lead directed at the man on the floor had struck the lamp, spewing oil onto a heavily upholstered chair and onto the rug that covered most of the floor. Already, flames feeding on the heavy rug had eaten their way a third of the distance across the room. This was a parlor, with a fireplace at one end and a closed door at the other. Gil kicked open the second door, revealing a sparsely furnished bedroom. Nobody was there, and he could see no other door leading out of the room.

  “Rosa,” he shouted. “Rosa!”

  But he heard nothing except the continuing rattle of distant gunfire and the ominous sound of the growing inferno behind him.

  Clay led out, and the five riders rode north until they were half a mile beyond the soldiers’ barracks and the officers’ quarters. From there they rode east until they could see the distant horse barn with its adjoining corral.

  “Solano caballo,” said Ramon, pointing.

  Beyond the corral stood a lone horse with reins trailing. It was mute testimony to the faithfulness of the horses Solano had gentled that the animal hadn’t allowed itself to be caught by one of the soldiers. Estanzio rode to catch the horse, and his companions continued on toward the barn. Warily, they circled it, and found Solano just beyond, a few yards from the now empty horse corral. Solano lay on his back, his unfired rifle beside him. He had been shot twice; once in the left shoulder, and again in his left side, dangerously low. Blood had pooled a rusty brown in the sand beside him. Angelina caught her breath and bit her lip. Clay was out of his saddle in an instant, seeking a pulse. At first he found none. Finally he pressed his fingers into the flesh beneath Solano’s chin, searching until he found the big artery.

  “He’s alive,” said Clay. “Shuck out some extra blankets. We’ll have to tie him on his horse.”
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br />   “It is a risk to move him,” said Angelina. “From the ride, he may die.”

  “We try an’ doctor him here,” said Clay, “and we’ll all die. These Mex soldiers ain’t known for their compassion. We’re taking him with us; it’s the only chance he has.”

  They wrapped Solano in blankets and bound him, belly down, across his saddle. Nobody hated it any more than Clay Duval, but they might have to do some hard riding, and there simply was no other way to keep the wounded Solano in the saddle. They mounted up and rode out in silence, Clay leading Solano’s horse. They rode back the way they had come, still hearing the distant rattle of gunfire, an indication that Gil, Van, and Long” John were still there.

  “El casa,” cried Ramon, “It burns!”

  While flames hadn’t yet broken through the front of the cabin, smoke had, boiling out the broken window and through the open door.

  “Let’s ride,” said Clay. “With Gil’s luck, he’s in there!”

  Frantically, Gil looked for another door. Half of one wall, floor to ceiling, was draped with a blanket. Why? Gil caught the bottom edge of the blanket and ripped it away, revealing the door he sought. He tried the handle, and while there was no lock, it apparently was barred on the inside.