Riders West

by Matt Chisholm

  Men were scattering. Already one or two were in cover, their guns sounding, hand-guns that didn’t have a hope in hell of reaching Will.

  There was a fellow down behind some gear, unaware that he had a leg showing. Will informed him by putting a bullet in it.

  Two horses broke their tie-lines and started off across the valley. Then there wasn’t a man in sight. The rifle smoke drifted. The revolvers grew silent. Will reckoned it was time to work his way back to Joe. It certainly didn’t look as if any of the men down there would dare to outflank him. Maybe his caution had been unnecessary and he should have had Joe down here with him and done a sight more damage.

  Even as he thought that, the bullet knocked rock chips into his face.

  Alarm knifed through him.

  Another shot. It missed his head by no more than inches. Somebody above him had clear sight of him. He rolled desperately, but knew that he was exposed while he was on the ledge.

  He turned, got his legs under him and dived forward to the brush on the far side of the ledge. He went into it with a crash and nearly lost an eye in the process. Lead seemed to rain down on the ledge. Ricochets whined and hummed through the air. He ducked and winced, forced his way through the brush and lay breathless.

  Where the hell was Joe?

  He heard shouts from below. He couldn’t see the camp now, but he knew that the men down there were coming out of cover and were coming for him. They would be out for his blood. He had to get out of there, but how? There were men above him, between him and the horses.

  Why didn’t Joe open up?

  He started crawling north hoping to work his way around the men above. He covered a dozen yards and the rifles above him were silent. He decided to take a chance, got to his feet and started running.

  At once, the air was full of flying lead and he was forced to stop and lie down again. He cursed hotly, his rage born of fear.

  He lay there sweating, suddenly sure that he wasn’t going to get out of this alive.

  A man above was bellowing to the men below.

  He started to crawl directly up the hillside, hugging the ground. He didn’t get far before they spotted him and drove him back the way he had come. He lay there and heard the men coming up from below. It looked like this hand went to Brack. It could be the last one.

  A rattle of stones from above.

  A man’s voice, shrill with excitement—

  ‘I see him. Yonder.’

  Will rolled to the left, hugged dirt and spotted a man above. He tried a hasty shot and missed. The lead started coming his way again. He snaked away from there with the lead missing him by inches.

  What the hell was keeping Joe? Was he hit? Dead?

  There was real panic in Will now. It seemed that he could smell death.

  There were men coming in from the left. Loose rocks rattled. They were not moving cautiously. They didn’t fear him at all. By God, he’d show ’em. Joe was right. Only thing to do was to kill, Only death would stop them.

  He sighted the high crown of a hat and let fly. The man ducked down. Will hunted better cover, found a cranny in the rocks and headed for it. They fanned his butt with lead all the way. He crouched in there waiting for death, a chin on either shoulder, knowing that they were coming for him from every direction. He thought of Martha stuck out there in the wilderness with the two girls and the wounded Mart. What would happen to her now? All this was his fault. His pride and his ambition. He didn’t even have the sense to run. Now it was too late. He was finished.

  A man was shouting. The voice sounded horribly close.

  ‘Storm ... Storm ... we know where you’re at. Come out with your hands high.. Throw down your gun and come on out. You don’t stand a dog’s chance.’

  He knew the man was right.

  He crouched there thinking about it, knowing in his heart that he stood more chance here than he did if he walked out there with his hands up. Likely they’d shoot him down as soon as he appeared.

  No, he’d stay put and take a few of them with him,

  He’d no sooner had this thought than he heard the crack of a rifle high above him.;

  Not far from him, he heard a man grunt in pain and surprise. There was a crash of brush and his astonished eyes saw a man step out into space. The man turned a slow somersault in the air, then plummeted, hit rock, bounced and landed not a dozen yards from Will. He rolled on off the ledge he had hit and disappeared from view.

  Joe.

  Suddenly, Will’s hope blossomed.

  There was a chance.

  He felt like laughing out loud. Joe.

  A man was yelling shrilly. Now there was alarm all around Will. In a second, everything was different. The high gun cracked again.

  Will filled his lungs with air and started up, going with enormous caution. He wasn’t out of this yet. They were still only two men against a crowd.

  He heard Joe’s voice—

  ‘Come ahead, boy. I ain’t a-goin’ to wait around all day.’

  Will could have wept with joy.

  He could picture Joe up above him in the rocks, his eyes savagely eager as he shot and kept on the move, the usually slow-moving Negro galvanized into violent nervous action.

  A man was shouting orders, telling men off to head for Joe, others to stay down with Will. The men from the valley were climbing cautiously now. Every now and then a rifle would slam and lead would whine through the air. But the main pressure was off Will and he could feel it. The men’s fear was centered on the rifle above.

  Dark couldn’t he far off now. With luck, he and Joe would make it. He angled left, knowing that Joe was constantly on the move and whatever he did he wouldn’t reach the Negro direct. He’d just head for the top of the ridge and then they’d both beat a retreat for the horses. Then into the hills under the cover of darkness.

  A man cut down on him ahead. Will flattened himself and fired back. The man sent shots back in return. Then Joe opened up on him from above and the fellow fled, running along the side of the ridge going north. Will could see no more than his bobbing head. He fired, knowing that he was shooting to kill. So Joe had his way after all. Then the man was gone from sight and Will climbed on. He was starting to be puffed; he wasn’t getting any younger. Too old for this damned foolishness.

  He knew from the way the shooting was going now that the men were pulling back to get away from Joe’s shooting. Maybe some of them were trying to work their way up the ridge north and south of Joe to outflank him. Will had to move fast or they’d both of them be caught between crossfires. He heaved air into his complaining lungs and climbed on.

  He was spotted and a marksman sought him out with lead, something nicked his shoulder painfully and he knew that he had been slightly hit. But there wasn’t time to worry about that now. It was enough to be alive. He wondered if he would stay alive long enough to reach the top of the ridge. He changed course and went on, using all the cover he could find.

  Now he was starting to expose himself to the men coming up from below. It wasn’t an easy matter shooting at a target above you, but just the same they were coming uncomfortably close and at any minute he expected to feel the blow of a bullet in his back. It wasn’t a nice feeling and it wasn’t only the climb making him sweat.

  At long last, he reached the top of the ridge and lay for a moment trying to get his breath back. His leg muscles were trembling helplessly from the titanic effort he had made and he knew what a landed fish must feel like.

  There was a rifle being fired just south of him and he reckoned that was Joe. As soon as he was able to move, he crawled along the top of the ridge. He came on Joe forted up in the rocks.

  ‘Joe, boy, let’s get outa here,’ he said.

  Joe turned a shining black face to him.

  What took you so goddam long?’ the Negro demanded. ‘You know what? Some of them bustads has Indianed around us and they’s all pre-pared to cut us off from our hosses.’

  ‘Move out north,’ Will said, ‘an
d work our way around to the horses. They ain’t too happy up thataway.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Joe, snarling a little, ‘an’ they reach the hosses ahead of us.’

  ‘If you can think of something better to do,’ Will said. ‘By God, you do it.’

  Joe flicked a grin.

  ‘Lead out,’ he said.

  Crouching down. Will led the way back north again. He heard Joe scrambling along behind him. The sound of rifle-fire died away. They covered a couple of hundred feet fast, then they ran into opposition. There were a couple of rifles right in front of them on the ridge.

  ‘Pay ’em no-never-mind,’ Joe said. ‘I had my fill of gettin’ my butt shot off. Go east.’

  They started down the ridge side away from the valley. The men above them fired a few rounds, then lost them among the rocks and brush. But now Broken Spur knew which way they were headed and they would have to cover a lot of ground in short time. As they ran crouched down Will prayed that the men back there didn’t have any horses with them. Then suddenly, they were among trees and they could straighten up for a good run. Joe now showed his paces. He could run like a deer. He was strong in the leg and good on wind. It wasn’t long before Will, a horseman all his life, ran clean of wind. He panted out that he couldn’t go on at that pace. Joe stopped and looked disgusted.

  ‘Man,’ he said, ‘you sure is in poor condition. It’s all this soft house-livin’. There’s high ground ahead. Git on an’ we’ll stop.’

  They ran on with Will’s heart pounding and his lungs an agony. He had never been more relieved in his life when they burst out of the trees and came to a high tumble of rocks.

  They stopped and Joe said: ‘Git on and bring the hosses back. I’ll hold ’em up a while.’

  ‘Don’t be a damn fool,’ Will said. ‘You can move faster’n me.’

  ‘This ain’t no time to be sentimental. Get a-goin’.’

  He pushed Will. The white man stood irresolute for a moment, then he set off east, scrambling through the rocks. When he looked back, Joe was forted up in the rocks, loading his rifle. Will hurried on. He was no sooner out of sight of the Negro than he heard shooting. He fought to quicken his pace. He came to open ground where the going was easier and, as he crossed it, he expected to be fired on, but no shots came and he reached the timber on the far side and there he came on the horses.

  He mounted hastily and, leading Joe’s horse, headed back the way he had come. He had the horses moving briskly, zigzagging through the trees, then scrambling through the rocks. The rifle fire was now frantic. He came out on high ground, leapt from the saddle and unbooted his rifle. He could see the ring of drifting rifle-smoke around the rocks in which Joe was hidden.

  He yelled: ‘Light a shuck, Joe.’

  He saw Joe’s head come around. The Negro spotted him and at once came working his way back through the rocks. A yell went up from below and Will started shooting. A man broke from cover and Will drove him back. Joe was up and running. Rifles cracked. Will fired and levered as fast as he knew how, hardly able to see a target, but knowing that he had to keep heads down there.

  Joe was climbing now, desperately clawing his way upwards.

  Will sighted a man coming in from the left, sighted carefully on him and fired. The fellow was knocked sideways and disappeared from sight.

  He heard a shout.

  Joe was down.

  He had fallen backward across a large boulder. He threw a stricken look up at Will.

  ‘Ride, man, ride,’ he yelled.

  Will dropped his rifle and started down towards him. The Negro made a frantic gesture with his left hand to make him go back. Lead struck rock behind Will and howled away into the gathering dust.

  Will reached Joe.

  Joe said: ‘For Crissake, Will. Beat it, man. I’m through.’

  Who’s soft now?’ Will demanded. Where you hit?’

  Joe reached back a hand to his neck. Will looked and saw that the back of the shoulders were covered with blood. He dragged Joe off the boulder and dumped him on the ground. He picked up the fallen rifle and stuck his elbows firmly on the rock. If he could hold them off till full dark, they might stand a chance.

  Joe was telling him to get out of there.

  ‘Why don’t you shut your fool head an’ leave me concentrate?’ Will said conversationally. He was surprised just how calm he felt.

  Most of the firing had stopped now. Just a couple of rifles were directed at him. That was to keep his head down while other men worked their ways in.

  ‘Joe,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘git to crawlin’. An’ you crawl like you never did before.’

  ‘I’m all stove up.’

  ‘Git.’

  Joe got, groaning a little from the pain. Will started shooting. He shot the rifle empty, then he started back after Joe. The Negro hadn’t got far. He was slumped down between a couple of boulders and Will could see the blood pumping out of his shoulder. He’d have to do something about that before he did anything else. He wouldn’t attain much by toting a dead man out of there. He dragged Joe from between the boulders, rolled him on his face and whipped off Joe’s bandanna. The Negro moaned; he was as good as unconscious. Will started to feel pretty desperate. He didn’t see how he could get Joe to the horses before Broken Spur came up with them.

  He found the bullet hole at the base of the neck and didn’t see how he could put a tourniquet there to stop the flow of blood. He wished Martha were here - she would know what to do. He tore off his own bandanna, bunched it and used it as a pad. He tied it tightly in place with the other bandanna and listened for the men coming towards him. He grabbed up Joe’s rifle and went looking for them. He’d have to put a little scare into them if he wanted to get away. Almost as soon as he started to work his way through the rocks, he almost walked on top of a man. He didn’t know who was more alarmed, him or the other fellow. He was a young man and his reactions were fast. So was his shooting. He whirled and fired at Will with a hand-gun, but his accuracy wasn’t up to his speed.

  The bullet bounced off a boulder and Will fired from the hip. He didn’t know if he made a hit or not, but the man disappeared from view. A shot came from the right. He dropped to one knee, levered and fired. Then a shot from the other side. They seemed to be closing in on him from all sides. He thought of Joe up there in the rocks, Joe would be dead pretty soon if he didn’t get him out of here. A frantic kind of rage rose in him. The man to his right was still shooting. Will swung the rifle and pressed the trigger. Nothing but an empty click resulted.

  A bullet brushed the brim of his hat.

  He yelled and charged. There didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

  As he blundered through the rocks, stumbling and jumping, he could see nothing but the man’s face. There was a sort of astonishment on it as if its owner could not believe that anybody would be crazy enough to charge a man with a loaded and pointed rifle.

  Will didn’t know how many times the man fired, but however many times it was it wasn’t enough for Will’s luck. The astonishment on the man’s face turned to panic. Will’s own face must have looked like that of a madman. He charged straight into the man who tried at the last moment and in vain to turn and avoid Will. The brassbound butt of Will’s rifle caught him in the side of the neck. He went down on one side and tried to cock and fire his belt-gun. Will hit him across the face with the side of the butt. There was just time to see the ruination of his face and Will was going on through the rocks. There was no fear in him at all now, only the rage of a berserk. He took no care to protect himself. All he wanted was to kill. Joe was right. These men were better off dead and the world would be a better place without them.

  There was a man in front of Will, a man who didn’t panic. One glance was enough to tell Will that this was a professional, no thirty and found cowhand. The man didn’t hurry, he just raised his gun and sighted carefully at the charging man.

  If he had hurried, it might have been better for him. Will changed cours
e abruptly and flung himself down among the rocks, heard the shot pass. He dropped the rifle and heaved his own belt-gun from leather, came to his feet and fired. The other man stood motionless, calmly returning the fire. He missed. Will cocked and fired again.

  The man gave a small grunt and took one pace backward. Will knew that he had shot him through the heart.

  He was running through the rocks again. He heard a man scrambling away to his right. He’d put a scare into them.

  He reached Joe and the Negro’s eyes were open. He had his belt-gun in his hand and he looked like he was still in business. Will put away his revolver and got Joe under the armpits and started dragging him. The shooting had stopped.

  Silence took over until he had got Joe to the top of the slope and beside the horses. Then somebody below spotted them and started firing. But the range was long and the shot fell wide.

  ‘Git on your feet,’ he told Joe.

  He held out a hand, Joe gripped it with both his and the sweat stood out on his face as he made the effort He was on his feet and leaning against his horse. His body seemed to sag weakly. Will lifted one of Joe’s feet and put it in the stirrup-iron. Then he took a-hold of Joe’s butt and heaved him up. The Negro reacted instinctively and threw his leg over the horse. He sat bent-shouldered in the saddle, clinging to the apple. Will turned the horse and slapped it across the rump. The animal trotted on its way. He got into his own saddle quicker than he’d ever got into a saddle before in all his life and used iron.

  Dusk was settling in. He shouted to Joe to hold on for dear life and then they were trotting into the hills. Will started to feel a little better. Now with a bit of luck they might make it.

  They covered a mile this way and then when they were en-cloaked by darkness, Joe pitched out of the saddle. Will swore, stopped and got down. Joe was almost unconscious.

  ‘Hold on, boy,’ Will told him. ‘We’re goin’ to make it.’

  He loosened the bandage and let the blood flow a little and then tied the bandage really tight. He fought Joe into the saddle again, looped his belt over the saddle-horn and tied his feet beneath the horse. Then he mounted and they went on again.