by Jake Douglas
Breathing hard, Deke climbed the rest of the way down and started to drag Ringo’ s body out of sight. Then he thought of Lieutenant Craig and his soldiers and propped the dead man up amongst the rocks, using several stones and a dead branch to support the man’s right arm. He folded back all the fingers except one, pointing the way to the high trail, and hoped the young Lieutenant would understand.
The climb back to the grey left him breathless. He drank from the canteen as he looked for the landmark of the lightning-struck shagbark hickory tree. It was an old one, nearing the hundred feet maximum height, and it was split almost a third of the way down, one splintered arm hung up in the branches of neighbouring trees. It made a sizeable landmark even from a couple of miles away.
Due north for a mile, swing west and drop downslope into a thick, dark stand of cedar … Those had been Jimmy Taggart’s instructions and Cutler followed them to the letter, riding the grey with his rifle held at the ready, using knee pressures to guide the horse. When he came to the brush that blocked further advance, he dismounted. As he stood beside the sweating horse, rubbing its neck idly, listening to the buzz and hum of insects and a distant swish of a breeze high up in the branches of the cedars, he heard a crackling sound like twigs breaking. Then there came the faint whinny of a horse and he quickly clamped a hand over the grey’s muzzle.
The sounds came from hard left and he turned that way, hearing them more clearly. He looped the grey’s reins over a bush, started forward, placing his boots carefully so as to avoid dead twigs and leaves.
Sweat drenched him in here. Once he felt a slight breeze touch his damp skin and he began to walk in that direction. Then, he heard men’s voices, not far off….
Deke tightened his grip on his rifle, crouched lower, using the Winchester’s muzzle to push aside branches to ease his passage. And then he jumped at the sudden braying of a mule, away on his right, stumbling into a bush. As it shook some of the deader branches snapped. He fell to his knees in the open, saw the clearing, stacked boxes and crates, discarded tarps lying on the ground. Men worked at sorting and transferring boxes to a waiting string of mules.
Then he was seen, and someone yelled. Boxes were dropped as the men immediately reached for their guns.
The old Ranger training took over and Deke Cutler dived for the ground, shooting in the general direction of the men, not caring whether he hit anyone or anything, just as long as they scattered. They did, yelling, and some men started shooting back right away, bullets going wild.
Deke skidded under a bush, levered in a fresh shell, fired, rolled away, forced his way back into deeper shadow. He nailed his first outlaw with the next shot, picking the man off as he ran for the cover of a pile of long, narrow boxes. The man went down all flailing arms and legs, knocking one of his companions off his feet. Deke shot him, too, but he didn’t think it was fatal.
And then a volley of concentrated fire raked the brush and twigs rained down on his shoulders, dirt erupted into his face. He got his feet under him and lunged to his right, then instantly swung back and dived headlong. More bullets ripped through the brush but over to his left. He slid quickly under branches and emptied the rifle at the still running men. He saw a man’s leg kick out to one side, its owner tumbling, trying to crawl into cover. He looked like a man he had seen with Flash Bill Danton. Then he saw Danton himself, rising with a shotgun at his shoulder.
Deke rolled frantically, hurling himself wildly aside. The brush above him was torn apart, buckshot cleaving branches and leaves. They rained down on him in a swarming cloud, the bush ripping apart. The second barrel discharged with a brief thunder and more buckshot rattled mighty close above his head, several balls stinging his back, one burning his leg. It twitched and he grabbed at it, feeling a little blood trickling already.
He lunged up and started to run for the protection of a tree when a man loomed up to one side, yelling, ‘Deke!’ Cutler spun around, and a rifle butt crashed into his head.
Just before the world exploded in a sheet of flame, Deke recognized Durango Spain.
‘How the hell did he find this place, that’s what I want to know – and I mean now, Durango!’
Flash Bill Danton’s distinctive voice hammered through the thumping roar in Deke’s head and he opened his eyes slightly, peering through interlaced lashes. They had dragged him nearer the stash of boxes and crates. Now he could read stencilled names on some: DYNAMITE on the slab-sided boxes with the hinged lids, and on the long, narrow boxes with the bracing-timbers nailed a foot in from each end, US ARMY: RIFLES. Some square boxes just on the edge of his vision he recognized as those made to carry ammunition.
So Bannister was right, he thought, remembering the captain at Fort Montague telling him he suspected a load of stolen arms had been taken across the Red River to be sold for an Indian uprising. Deke only realized he had spoken aloud when Danton and Spain snapped their heads around towards him. He started to sit up, remembering in time not to appear too fit. He wasn’t yet tied up – which could mean he was marked for death, though Durango could easily have killed him instead of knocking him out. He lifted a shaking hand to the goose-egg sized knot above his right eye.
‘What the hell hit me?’
‘I did,’ Spain snapped. ‘I should’ve shot you!’
‘Yeah, you should’ve,’ growled Danton, kicking Deke in the side roughly. ‘How’d you find this place?’
Deke swung his eyes towards Spain and smiled devilishly.
‘Why, Durango showed me a sketch map when he was figuring on cutting me in on the deal.’
The more dissension and suspicion he could foster the better, he figured.
Spain’s eyes flew wide in real alarm.
‘You goddamn liar!’ he shouted looking swiftly at Danton. ‘It’s not true, Bill! He’s just trying to make trouble!’
‘Is that right?’ Danton gritted. ‘You been showin’ him a soft spot all along, Durango! I wanted him dead soon as he arrived, but you talked me around, sayin’ you could handle him. Well, you ain’t done it! Soon as you found that Springfield cartridge on him, you shoulda killed him! But I’ll take care of that, right now!’
Danton’s six-gun blurred out of leather but Spain jumped forward, quickly pushed his hand down.
‘Wait! For Chris’sakes, wait! We have to know how he got here, who else he told. Judas, I figured he’d be held up in Wichita Falls with that damn sheriff over Jno’s shooting and—’
‘He likely got your wife to wire the goddamn soldiers!’ Danton cut in and kicked Deke viciously, making him draw his knees swiftly up to his chest, rolling from side to side, moaning in pain. ‘Huh? That right, you son of a bitch?’
Spain leaned down over him, twisted his fingers in Deke’s hair, lifted his head and slammed it down on the ground.
‘Did you talk her round? I know you could do it, because she still cares for you! She never stops talking about you! Wept herself dry when we heard you were dead. Christ, I had to try and hold on to her somehow, but it took money to buy the things she was accustomed to. You think I’d deal with scum like Danton otherwise?’
Spain turned irritably as Danton hit him roughly on the shoulder. The outlaw bared his teeth.
‘Did you say “scum” like me?’
Spain frowned, still angry.
‘Hell, I dunno. I was just talking. But if it wasn’t for Cutler I would never’ve had anything to do with you – except to shoot you on sight.’
Danton nodded amiably.
‘Figured you felt that way. Well, it’s mutual, Durango, old hoss, dead – mutual!’
And he fired point blank into Spain, the bullet knocking Durango back almost six feet before he collapsed in a heap. Then Danton screamed as Deke drew Ringo’s knife from the top of his riding-boot where he had hidden it, and drove it into Danton’s leg, the only part of him he could reach. Flash Bill howled and danced away, his gun blasting wildly into the ground. He couldn’t keep his balance and Deke threw himself at Spain, rolling t
owards him, hoping to grab his six-gun. The man was too far away: he would never make it. But Spain wasn’t yet dead and he threw his Colt towards Deke.
Cutler scooped it up, spun on to his side and drove two bullets into Flash Bill Danton as the man rose to one knee, face screwed up in pain from his deeply slashed leg. Deke’s bullets wiped that and every other expression from his features and Danton slammed over backwards, dead.
The other men started shooting now and Deke felt the tug of lead against his right sleeve. He rolled towards the nearest pile of boxes. The outlaws were yelling and running, not sure how many intruders there were or what was happening.
Cutler wasn’t too sure himself, his head spinning.
Then Hal Tripp recognized Deke and started firing wildly. The men had made their way to some rocks, moving away from the cache of weapons and dynamite so there would be no risk of stray bullets setting off a charge. Deke made a zigzagging run to where the pile of boxes were and dived behind them. The outlaws started shooting instinctively.
‘Stop! Stop, for Chris’sakes!,’ yelled Tripp. ‘There’s enough dynamite there to blow down half the mountain!’ Tripp wasn’t taking any chances that a bullet just might set off the dynamite though it would need to be very old and unstable for that to happen. Deke used the man’s panic to his own advantage. Safely behind the first row of stacked boxes, he thumbed fresh loads from his bullet belt. He spun around, shooting between two boxes. A man yelled but no bullets answered Deke’s shots. He crouched down, pulled one of the dynamite boxes towards him and lifted the hinged lid. There were sticks of dynamite, fuse lengths and a waxed cardboard cylinder with detonator caps packed in cotton wool inside.
Taking time to check where the others were, he pushed a detonator into the end of a stick of dynamite, crimped the fuse on to the copper nipple with his teeth, then lit a cigarillo he had found earlier in the pocket of the shirt he had borrowed from Spain. He touched the glowing end to the fuse, waited for it to splutter and hurled it in the general direction of the rocks.
Two men were creeping slowly towards his hiding-place, belly down, obviously hoping to surprise him. One saw the trail of smoke arcing down towards them and screamed a warning, jumping up to run back towards the rocks. He was too late – as was his companion. The dynamite exploded with gouting fire and fountains of earth – and a couple of human limbs mixed in. It had a mighty sobering effect on the others still cowering amongst the boulders. Deke prepared another stick and hurled it towards them. It fell short but the explosion brought frightened swearing and dire threats.
Then he heard the crunch of stones, like a boot turning on gravel. Deke spun, and between the boxes, saw a man with a rifle only yards away. The man went to ground, panicked when he saw that Deke had spotted him, and fired one-handed. The bullet chewed a large splinter out of the corner of a box of dynamite but there was no explosion. The outlaw actually laughed in relief, jumped to his feet and, with a savage Rebel yell, charged in on Deke’s hiding-place, working lever and trigger on his rifle. Deke rolled clear, flopped on to his belly and fired at the wild man. The outlaw staggered and swung his gun towards Deke but Cutler brought him down with another bullet.
At the same time he saw Tripp and three others running towards him. They were shooting because he was yards away from the dynamite now, but Deke took a flying dive, scooped up another stick he had prepared, jammed the end against the burning cigarillo he had clamped between his teeth and hurled it at the advancing men.
They turned to run and the dynamite exploded over their heads, the concussion knocking them flat. They lay stunned, but Hal Tripp lurched up, wild-eyed, gun in hand. Deke’s last bullet sent his body somersaulting over a boulder. Then he saw more men coming out of the rocks. He groaned – his six-gun was empty and there were no more sticks of dynamite prepared. The men had realized his predicament and let out a roar as they ran in, shooting. Even as he fumbled at his bullet belt, Deke knew it was way too late.
Then there was a series of hoarse cries near the tree-line and Deke, starting to hunt cover, jerked around. Soldiers on foot were charging in, rifles spitting flame, the heavy balls whistling before knocking over some of the outlaws, felling them like a row of skittles. Lieutenant Craig was in the lead, his pistol barking. The soldiers swept around in a tight arc, trapping those outlaws still standing. They quickly threw down their guns, lifting their hands high, coughing in the thick pall of gunsmoke.
Lieutenant Craig, face sweating, hurried across to Deke.
‘You’re early,’ Deke panted.
‘Bit of luck. Ran into Mrs Spain on the way into town and I – er – appreciated your somewhat macabre signpost back at the falls, pointing the way here. Saved a lot of time.’
‘Bannister was right the other day when he said Durango and Danton were in the gun-running business.’ There was dejection and sadness in Deke’s voice.
‘Well – not quite. Danton was definitely supplying guns to this new alliance of the Indian tribes, but Durango Spain …’ His voice trailed off and Deke frowned, looking towards Spain where a corpsman was working over him.
‘What about Durango?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘Lets see how badly he’s hurt.’
Cutler followed the officer over to where Spain lay, bloody rags covering the chest wound. Craig looked quizzically at the corpsman who shook his head slowly. Spain reached up a hand, eyes pain-filled and glazing.
‘F-fooled you,’ he gasped.
Deke turned to Craig.
‘What’s he mean?’
The lieutenant saw that Spain wouldn’t be doing much talking and explained succinctly:
‘Captain Bannister briefed me before we set out. When Spain captured Danton down on the Rio, Flash knew Durango was about to be married and was low on funds. He bribed Spain to let him go, substituted another body so Spain could claim the bounty.’ He looked sharply at Cutler. ‘Did you know Danton had saved Spain’s life during the war – twice?’
Deke hadn’t known that. Now he felt his body tingle, realizing Spain hadn’t been as corrupt as everyone thought. Weak, sure, on the eve of his marriage, and broke but … A debt like he owed Danton would be the one thing that would make him bend the law, deviate from his own strict code. Still …
‘Not acceptable, though, Craig,’ Deke said tightly and the lieutenant nodded.
‘Danton had been wanted for a long time because his supplying the rebels with arms had caused a big rift, politically, between the United States and Mexico. The Rangers somehow got wind of the deal and Spain was hauled up to Headquarters. No excuses, they said, and told Spain he was facing dishonourable dismissal and jail. Then a federal marshal turned up and offered him a deal.
‘They believed Danton was heading north to back an Indian uprising in the Territory. The US marshals were very interested but didn’t have anyone to send in undercover. So they offered Spain an honourable discharge from the Rangers, with pension. He was to work his ranch on the Red River where Danton had been seen, and spread the word he was ready for more easy money. He would allow Danton to use Shoestring to take rustled herds into the Territory, and once Danton trusted Spain, the Rangers figured he’d be cut in on the arms deal. Spain could hardly refuse. Then you turned up, months ahead of schedule and Durango had to try and keep you from getting involved …’
Deke stared down at Durango whose eyes were fluttering as he tried to hold on a little longer.
‘You kept me at arm’s length, so I wouldn’t butt in and spoil your set-up,’ he said quietly, ‘letting me think you’d turned outlaw just for a few fast bucks …’
‘Didn’t want you getting all hotheaded. I couldn’t tell you about it, Deke. Thought the cancer story would hold you. Anyway, I figured if anything happened to me you’d be there for Karen to fall back on.’
Deke was on one knee now, holding Spain’s limp right hand.
‘You’re a damn good pard, Durango! But what about Jno trying to kill Jimmy and me?’
‘His idea. He
was s’posed to drive off the … mustangs … keep you busy … rounding ’em up . . while Danton showed me where the … guns were hidden.’
Deke smiled crookedly.
‘Once a Ranger, eh?’
Spain shuddered, and there was a brief, sudden strength in his grip. He coughed blood.
‘Deke … not much time … you know … how I want to be … buried. Tell Karen I … lo—’ He sighed, went limp, breathed one last ragged gasp.
‘I’ll look after her, Durango,’ Deke said quietly.
‘I’m sorry, Deke,’ Craig said. ‘With your past record we were afraid you’d buy in at the wrong time. Spain had gone to a lot of trouble to set it up, playing the corrupt rancher. If you believed it, we knew Danton would, too.’
Deke nodded: he savvied all that.
‘But where do Dutch Pete and Sam fit in? If they do …’
Craig smiled thinly.
‘The guns. They were stolen from a ship at Vera Cruz on their way to the US Army, via Mexico. Politics again. The Army was mighty short of weapons and these were cheap and reliable, a new kind of repeater, but made in South Africa by a Dutch arms company with a lot of very quiet American money behind it. There’d be big trouble if the local arms manufacturers knew about it. The South Africans sent us van Rensberg, their top investigator, who also happened to be actually crazy for danger. They set him up on a ranch, and his job was to scout the Territory looking for the guns. A damn good cover, really, an eccentric hunter like that, free to wander wherever he liked. He was getting very close to locating the guns. In fact it was the toss of a coin whether he or Spain would find the guns first. We think van Rensburg was about to reveal to you that he’d found the guns when that bear arrived at the wrong time. He still believed Spain was in it with Danton. We were waiting, as you know, ready to move on Pete’s word.’
Deke smiled.
‘Crazy, I’d call him, not eccentric! But game as they come!’