“You’re starting to realize that you figured wrong, aren’t you?” Bardwell asked.
“Maybe,” Castro said. “You ride with a Negro and I haven’t heard you say one word of my kind?”
“Sometimes, Son,” Bardwell said, nearing the barn. “A man’s reputation has a way of taking on a meaning of its own. Yes, I’ve killed my share of Mexicans, but I’ve killed a larger share of whites? Hell,” he continued. “There have been a fair number of natives, blacks, mutants…?”
“I understand, Sir,” Castro said, pulling back the door to allow sunlight inside of the livery barn.
The stable boy came on the run when he heard the door opening. “I reckoned that I’d see you two here early,” he said.
“It looks like you reckoned right then, Son,” Bardwell said, rubbing the boy’s head, “How’d they do in the storm last night?”
“Just as fine as frog’s hair,” the boy said. “These are good horses if you ask me?”
Castro laughed at the comment.
“We might be coming around for them,” Bardwell said. “That is if we see a break in the weather today?”
“They’ll be ready, Mister,” the boy said. “Believe me.”
“I do, Son,” Bardwell said. “Coming from a good man like you, I reckon a fella could take it to the bank?”
“You see any problems with your animals?” Bardwell asked.
“No, Sir,” Castro said, looking over his brother’s horse. “They look just as good as they day we rode them in, if not better.”
“No one has thought about the horses,” Bardwell said. “And that’s good for us. I don’t figure anyone will while the sun’s up.”
“And we might be long gone by the time it goes down?” Castro added.
“If the weather clears,” Bardwell said, starting back for the door. “You’ve done well, Son, the lawman went on talking to the boy. “You keep a good eye on them for me and I’ll see to it that you are well rewarded.”
“I will, Mister,” the boy said. “Don’t you worry about that, none.”
Bardwell smiled. “I don’t plan that I’ll have to,” he said walking away.
The lawmen walked back in the direction of the little house with the painted fence. Bardwell was glad to see the horses unmolested.
“If this weather clears, Sir,” Castro asked. “And we start off tonight, what will we do about our cousin?”
“That’s a good question,” Bardwell replied. “What do you think we ought to do?”
“Well, Sir,” Castro continued. “You have the third horse. We could buy a saddle and have her ride along when we leave out?”
“Too dangerous,” Bardwell said. “I’d hate to have things go south and the girl caught right in the middle of it?”
“Good point,” Castro said rubbing his chin.
“I was thinking of putting her in one of the rooms at the boardinghouse,” Bardwell said. “Folks have seen the four of us around her place. After we ride out…we’ll let them continue to think that she’s there alone?”
“That might work,” Castro said. “If we can get her up the street unnoticed?”
“We’ll dress her like one of us and walk her up there after dark,” Bardwell continued. “She’ll be safe there for a few hours.”
Curtis was smoking one of his cigars when the two lawmen walked up. “Find everything okay, at the livery?” he asked.
“Yes,” Castro said, continuing inside to talk with his brother and cousin.
“The weather looks to be clearing,” Curtis went on.
Bardwell nodded.
“Are we on for tonight?” Curtis asked, sitting in the chair.
Bardwell pulled up the other chair and fished out his tobacco. “I believe so, Son,” he said, biting off a chew.
“I knew it, Sir,” Curtis said. “I can always tell when you’re planning to go after some outlaw.”
“How is that?” Bardwell asked.
“Because your eyes draw down together just like they are right now,” Curtis said laughing.
Ritchie stepped out onto the porch followed by Castro and the girl. “My brother said that you’re planning to ride out tonight, Sir?” he asked.
Bardwell nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on the weather,” he said. “If it continues to clear, let’s plan on getting the supplies that we’ll need to keep us for a few days. Once we start this thing in motion there won’t be any stopping or looking back.”
The three young lawmen nodded their agreement.
“What about Karsyn?” Curtis asked, blowing the smoke back over his shoulder.
“I reckon one of the rooms at the boardinghouse will be the safest place to leave her for a few hours?” Bardwell said.
“Once the horses are saddled and made ready,” Castro said. “We can dress her in a long coat and hat and three of us will hustle her up after the sun goes down.”
“That’s good,” Ritchie said. “No one should catch on?”
“I don’t mind staying,” the young woman said. “But how will I know when to leave for the stage office?”
“We’ll ride back for you,” Bardwell said.
Ritchie spoke up. “Sir,” he said. “If things should go south while we’re out there, my brother and I will be required by our orders to skedaddle. We simply cannot be found anywhere near this place?”
“Then Franklin and I will ride back,” Bardwell said. “Or at least one of us will. Don’t you worry young lady? One of us will be with you at all times till we can get you back home or at least as far as Sacramento.”
The matter seemed to be settled till the lawman started again. “You have your things packed before sundown,” he said. “We’ll see to it that you’re safe at the boardinghouse before we start off.”
Most of the morning was spent in this fashion, talking, planning, and flat-out bullshitting at times.
As the younger folk sat around enjoying their time together, Bardwell sat at the kitchen table disassembling his weapons and applying a light coat of oil. The lawman kept an eye on the time as it passed slowly. Before long, Curtis joined in taking a seat across from his mentor. Ritchie and Castro followed suit after a while.
“You boys should get into town and secure anything that you’ll need for the next day or so,” Bardwell said, getting up from the table to stretch his tired back. “Young lady,” he continued. “Now would be a good time to get your things together.”
Karsyn started up the stairs while the two brothers walked into town for the goods they’d need to get them back north. Curtis sat on the porch smoking a cigar. Bardwell leaned back against the clapboard siding deep in thought.
There was a good deal ahead of the lawmen tonight and a good deal more that could go wrong now that the young woman was involved. He wondered if he wasn’t being a bit over precautious by having her leave town. If he was, she could always return down the road when things had settled some. Folks always had that way of forgetting given enough time.
A crack was heard in the alley behind the little house. From upstairs, the girl screamed. Curtis ran for the stairs inside, Bardwell around back to see where the shot had come from.
Again, there was no sign of the shooter although the lawman poked around in the yard for a spell to see what would turn up. Nothing did.
Curtis raised the second story window. “Anything, Sir?” he asked.
Bardwell shook his head. “No.”
“This damned house ain’t going to have a window left when we leave,” Curtis said.
“Is the girl all right?” Bardwell asked, holstering his weapon and starting back around the house.
“Everything, okay?” the boys asked, seeing the lawman running one of his Colt pistols home.
“Yeah,” Bardwell said. “Shot out another window upstairs.”
The boys continued on through the gate and up the steps placing an armload of goods on the floor to be repacked for the ride north.
“Our turn,” Curtis said, following the young woman down to the parlor.
<
br /> Ritchie looked over to Bardwell. “You think they’ll try it again, Sir?” he asked.
“No,” Bardwell answered. “You should be good for a time?”
***
“I know that I’m filling one of my saddlebags with cigars and matches,” Curtis said, laughing as he and Bardwell neared the mercantile. “I’m damned tired of running out while out on the trail.”
Bardwell smiled. “I hear you,” he said.
“What else you thinking about putting in those saddlebags you carry?” Curtis asked.
“Coffee and some dried beef,” Bardwell answered. “A bottle or two of whiskey, maybe, it will be a long ride north if those boys are planning to ride on to the mission.”
“You think we’ll go home after this?” Curtis asked.
“I don’t know, Son,” Bardwell said. “I don’t think I can answer that one.”
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” the merchant asked as the lawmen stepped inside of the town’s only store.
“Need some supplies to keep us till we can ride north a piece,” Bardwell said.
“How far are you gentlemen riding?” the merchant asked.
Bardwell reached a few strips of dried beef on the counter with two bottles whiskey. He pointed at the tobacco and held up four fingers. “Oh,” he said. “Over toward the coast and north a few rods, I’ve heard a fellow can find work up that way?”
“I’ve heard that also,” the merchant said. “But I can’t say one way or the other?”
“And a sack of coffee,” Bardwell asked, pointing behind the counter where the man stood. The lawman paid for his purchase in silver.
The lawman stood aside packing the goods into the worn leather saddlebags that he had carried over his shoulder.
“And for you young man?” the merchant asked smiling.
“You got good cigars?” Curtis asked, chewing on the stub of his last.
The merchant smiled pulling a box from under the counter. “I just happen to have these,” he said.
“I’ll take them all,” Curtis said. The young lawman laid a few strips of dried beef along the counter with a few of the hard crackers from a glass jar on a shelf above.”
“That do it for you, Son?” the merchant asked.
Curtis nodded paying in silver also. Bardwell stood near the glass looking for trouble in the street outside. There was none. The lawman didn’t really expect any at this time of the day.
“You fellows be sure and stop in if you ride back this way,” the merchant said, smiling with the music of silver coins ringing in his pocket.
“We will, Mister,” Curtis said, stepping off the raised boards to the street and the return trip to the little house where the others waited.
“You think they had any trouble?” Curtis asked.
“No,” Bardwell said, spitting to the dampened earth.
Ahead the two boys and the girl stood on the porch talking. Bardwell noticed a gentleman ducking along the roofline of the building across the street from the little house. “You go on ahead,” he said, handing over his leather bags. “I’ve got a detour to make.”
Curtis didn’t question his superior. He knew better. The young lawman continued on like it was nobody’s business.
“Where’s he going?” Ritchie asked as Curtis drew near.
Around behind the two-story building that doubled as a tailor and merchant trying to get a start on this western end of town, the lawman noticed a ladder leading up to the roof. Bardwell looked above and started up quietly.
Across the flat roof of the building, a gentleman crouched low behind the false façade wall near the street. The lawman walked over, careful not to make a sound.
That crouching gentleman froze to the sound of a Colt hammer locking into place behind his ear.
“Mister,” Bardwell said. “I’ll give two seconds to lay that there peashooter down before I put twelve holes in the back of your fucking head.”
The man didn’t move. Bardwell counted aloud, “One…”
That lever action rifle went to the flat roof. Bardwell figured it was something you’d give a boy, a .30-30 maybe?
“Is it you that’s been shooting holes in that little house across the street?” Bardwell asked in a dry voice. His fist clenched.
“No, Sir,” the gentleman answered, turning to stand. He had a smirk across his face the lawman didn’t care much for.
Bardwell popped the man in the mouth, dropping the fellow before he could get to his feet.
“What’d you go and do that for?” the man asked. The smirk had been replaced by a busted lip.
“I asked you a question,” Bardwell replied. “And I didn’t like the look on your face.
Across the street, Castro noticed the lawman visible in one of the roofline cutouts and pointed. “Looks like your boss has found a little something over yonder?” he said to Curtis.
Curtis set the pair of saddlebags down on the porch and looked up wondering how he could offer assistance.
“If it wasn’t you taking potshots at that house,” Bardwell asked. “Who was it?”
The man spat out blood as he started to laugh. Bardwell swung connecting with the stranger’s jaw.
Bardwell yanked the man to his feet sliding out the long blade from its sheath, which he held to the stranger’s throat against the façade. “Mister,” he said in a low voice. “When I ask you a question, you’d better be ready to answer.” The lawman drew a breath, “I’d just as well slit your neck and leave you up for folks to find in a day or two when you start to stinking.”
Ritchie was up the ladder and on the roof now. Curtis and Castro remained on the ground to keep an eye on things there.
“What do we do with him, Sir?” Ritchie asked.
Bardwell bent to retrieve the lever action rifle unloading the weapon as he came up. Wedging the stock in a stout place, he pulled at the barrel until the rifle was rendered useless.
“Start him down the ladder,” he said, tossing the weapon aside. Bardwell looked over the side at the rear of the building where Curtis and Castro stood with their hand shielding their eyes from the sun just breaking through the clouds. “If he tries anything funny,” he said. “You just go ahead and shoot him full of holes.”
The three made their way down the ladder.
“We’re going to take us a walk, Mister,” Bardwell said leaning close. “You try anything and I’ll run my blade clean through you, you hear me?”
The stranger spat in the dirt but said nothing.
“What are we to do with him, Sir?” Curtis asked, walking alongside as the five of them crossed the street to the little house with the painted fence.
“Tie his hands behind his back and set him right in the middle of the parlor floor so we can all keep an eye on him,” Bardwell said.
“Are there more of them, Sir?” Curtis asked.
“Don’t know,” Bardwell said. “He wouldn’t talk.”
Castro overheard. “Then that means there’s more around here?”
“I think that you’re right, Son,” Bardwell said, scanning the roofline of the nearby buildings for any sign of others planning to cause them harm.
“I’ve got rights,” the stranger said, as Curtis and Ritchie cinched the rope tight around his wrists. “I want to talk with the Marshal.”
“Gag him,” Bardwell said, fire blazing in his blue eyes. “If he keeps making noise, take him out back and shoot him.”
The lawman removed his timepiece for a glance. It wasn’t dinner yet and there was still a long day ahead of them. If they didn’t want to let on like they were leaving tonight, they’d be forced to sit here—a target—in the sights of those outlaws.
“You think they’ll keep shooting into the house?” Karsyn asked, leaning against the kitchen door.
“It’s possible,” Bardwell answered. “But we’ve now got one of theirs in here with us. They’ll know it by now, as I reckon they had eyes on us as we crossed the street earlier.”
Ri
tchie and Castro were busy in one of their green boxes. They appeared to be assembling a weapon of some sort.
“What in the hell do you boys have there?” Curtis asked, walking closer for a look.
Castro held one out. “An M4,” he replied. “Five point, five six…selective fire and the best optics that we have available.”
“Damn,” Curtis said, smiling. “I want one of these.”
Castro smiled. “We’ll see what we can do about that?”
Ritchie removed the protective covers over the ends of the spyglass attached and held the rifle up to the open window dialing it in. The young lawman adjusted the sling and handed it over to Curtis.
“What’s this?” Curtis asked, taking the foreign looking firearm.
“You’ll carry this one for the rest of the mission,” Castro said. “I’ll walk you through it.”
“Are you kidding me?” Curtis asked, looking at Bardwell. “How does this thing work?”
Bardwell stepped closer to take in the instruction offered.
Castro began the impromptu instruction. “This button here releases a thirty round magazine…”
Curtis interrupted. “Thirty rounds,” he said. “Damn.”
Castro smiled dropping the magazine and reinserting it to show the others how the weapon was operated. Flipping the switch to the side, he continued, “Semiautomatic or a three round burst.”
“No lever?” Curtis asked.
Ritchie laughed. “No,” he said, holding the second rifle out. “You just pull back the bolt when you insert a new magazine and the gas operating system will do the rest for you.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” Curtis said, looking over the weapon in his hand.
“These are good to about five hundred paces,” Castro said proudly. “My brother and I use these exclusively for close quarters work.”
Ritchie assembled a fourth weapon, handing it over to Bardwell. Castro placed a rucksack on the floor near the open green box. “I don’t think we’ll see much of a firefight as long as the sun remains in the sky overhead, but if you should require another magazine, you can grab one from this pack.”
“May I?” Curtis asked, meaning to look through the spyglass attached to the weapon.
“By all means,” Castro said. “It would be good to get used to these things before you really need to.” He pulled back the window shade.
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