Rufus nodded at me and said, “Howdy, Henry. Glad yore back. I’m just a-sittin’ here thankful I ain’t gonna have to saddle up Sally and go over to Cox’s place to get yore body in the mornin’. Are ye hurt?”
“Wh-why would you think that, Rufus?” I stammered, not having a clue how he knew I had been at Cox’s place.
He spat toward the big, green creosote bush and squinted at me through his dusty, round lenses. “Ol’ Pete Catron was by here ’bout sundown. I rode with Pete years ago when we was a-tryin’ to catch Victorio. Told me about how somebody had nearly put a bullet through Jack Stone’s head. Said he thought he might be on the assassin’s trail. Said whoever he was trailin’ was mighty crafty. He thought maybe whoever he was might be an Indian or an Indian fighter. He just wasn’t shore he had come this direction, although he saw signs that maybe he had. He was just followin’ a hunch. I give him some beans and tortillas, and we chewed the fat about old times fer awhile ’fore he went on his way.”
I was as weary as I’ve ever been. I just nodded to Rufus, went inside, and drank several dippers of water. I unloaded the Sharps and dragged the stool over to the doorway so I could reach the pegs to hang the Sharps up until I could clean it. I filled a tin plate with beans out of the pot, took a couple of tortillas, and walked outside to sit down beside Rufus.
After covering nearly fifteen miles of mountain trails and eating nothing but parched corn and jerky, those beans and tortillas tasted like one of the best meals I’d ever had. Rufus didn’t say a word or look at me. He just chewed and spat, watching the stars fill a cloudless night.
I finished shoveling down the beans and tried to apologize. “Rufus, I’m sorry. I understand now what a fool trick it was and—”
Rufus spat and looked at me a moment, his jaw slowly turning the wad of tobacco in his cheek into more brown juice. He shook his head. “Don’t never back up, boy. Say what ye mean to say and do it. Ye’re mighty young and inexperienced to do what ye did. But, aye God, ye nearly pulled it off.” He reached over and grabbed my shoulder with a big grin on his face. “Just the luck of the draw you missed. It’s even luckier ye weren’t caught. Now, tell me what happened.”
I told him everything, including how I’d decided to do it because David had been able to kill the giant with God helping him. I figured God wanted to punish Jack Stone, so He’d help me, too, but He hadn’t, and I didn’t understand why. Rufus just sat and nodded as he listened.
I told him what an easy shot it had been and how I couldn’t understand how I’d missed. Then I told him about how Pete Catron had nearly caught me in that shelf crevice with a rattlesnake.
Rufus laughed aloud at that one. I had to laugh, too, when I thought about it. I told him how I’d backtracked from farther down the trail, trying to throw Pete off. When I finished, Rufus was quiet for a long time, just sitting there in the dark, chewing and spitting, as he whittled a stick down to a toothpick.
The moon began to fill the canyon with its soft, yellow light and stark, black shadows. A warm breeze rolled up from the valley floor. Rufus spat and sighed. He said, “Henry, ye did all right. Ye just made one or two big mistakes and several small ones, but, for a child yore age, ye did mighty fine. Yellow Boy will be real proud of ye, too.”
My weary body, once near collapse, wanted to stand up and dance in the light of that praise from a man with years of fighting experience. All I could say was, “I did well? I thought you would want to beat me for taking the Sharps without your knowing it or being with me to guide me along. What mistakes did I make?”
Rufus leaned back on his elbows and looked at me. Even in the dark, I could feel his eyes fully on my face. “Yore biggest mistake was ye didn’t go fer a body shot. It’s mighty hard to hit a man in the head at a long range, son. A head moves a lot. If ye’d gone fer a body shot ye’d probably have hit him in the heart or lungs, and he’d a-been dead one way or the other ’fore ye topped Baylor Pass. The other big mistake was ye should have shot through a hole in some bush so the smoke from the shot would break up and be a lot harder to see.
“But ye was smart hangin’ back and followin’ the people tryin’ to catch ye. That there’s an old Apache trick. Did Yellow Boy teach that to ye?” I shook my head. “Well, son, ye’re a natural, then. Only difference ’tween yore trick and theirs is the Apaches would have attacked again from the rear and wiped out the ones chasing ’em. Ye oughter’ve thought about how to hide out until everyone was a-chasin’ some phantom up the trail and not got in front of Pete. If he’d just realized ye was a little fart, he’d probably caught ye right there in that shelf. Might even have shot ye tryin’ to shoot the snake through those bushes. He just didn’t want to waste cartridges. Ye understand what I’m a tryin’ to tell ye?”
I nodded and said, “Yes, sir. I know you’re right, Rufus, except—”
“Except what, son?”
“Why do you suppose God didn’t help me today like He helped David?”
Rufus was quiet as he tilted his face up to look at the stars and scratched at the stubble on his face. He said, “What makes ye think He didn’t help ye today? Physically ye’re just a boy. Ye covered about fifteen mile worth of mountain trails today, packing a ten-pound weapon and another five pounds of food and water. Ye came within a couple of inches of puttin’ lead between the eyes of the man who had yore daddy killed. Henry, ye survived when by rights ye oughter be dead. Don’t tell me God didn’t help ye. Why, it’s a damn miracle ye’re alive.”
I nodded. Rufus was right. It wasn’t luck that got me through. It was providence. Maybe next time the giant would fall. I said, “Rufus, can we rename the Sharps?”
“What do ye mean, son?”
“Well, I want to name the Sharps ‘Little David.’ You know, like David and Goliath? Because today I almost brought down the giant in front of everybody, and it was like using little David’s slingshot.”
Rufus grinned. “Well, that old rifle ain’t had no name before ’cept when ol’ Yellow Boy calls her Shoots Today Kills Tomorrow. I reckon Lil’ David is a good name, especially if ye use it to wipe out those men who killed yore daddy. Ye just be shore you clean Lil’ David first thing in the morning. We a-goin’ to need him.”
“Why are you saying that?”
“Well, I ’spec we oughter to see Jack Stone and his boys by here in two or three days. He’s a goin’ to be madder than hell ’cause somebody took a shot at him. He ain’t got no idea why exactly, but I bet it could be fer all kinds of reasons. Ol’ Pete will think he might have trailed the shooter past my shack. Pete told me he believes it was a Sharps that was used to shoot at Stone, and he knows I got a Sharps, too, but that I ain’t got no reason to be shootin’ at Stone with it. We got to find ye a good hidin’ place and figure out how to handle Stone when he comes. It ain’t goin’ to be purdy. I jest hope Yellow Boy gets back here soon to help us.”
CHAPTER 29
JACK STONE COMES CALLING
Stone and four other riders showed up at Rufus’s shack about suppertime a couple of days later. Rufus said he was just serving up our plates when he looked out through the window and saw the first rider top the trail to the house. He rode into the yard like he owned it, followed by the other four. I was at the spring getting a bucket of water. Rufus came out of the shack, careful to close the door behind him. He was hoping I had heard the men come up and had hidden myself. I was about halfway back to the house when I heard Cody barking and then strange voices. I hid the bucket behind a bush and tried to find a place where I could see and hear what was going on.
When I finally maneuvered within sight of the yard, there sat Jack Stone, Charlie Bentene, and three cowboys I’d never seen before. Those three stayed back on the edge of the yard while Stone and Bentene rode up close to Rufus. Stone was resting his forearm on his saddle horn and leaning forward. Bentene, with his big hooked nose, sat straight in the saddle with his hand on his revolver watching every move Rufus made. As soon as he came out the door, Rufus tied Co
dy to a porch post. Cody stood with his teeth bared; a low growl was in his throat.
I heard Stone say, “Sorry to intrude on you like this, Mr. Pike, but some son of a bitch put a big hole through my hat a few days ago. We’ve been looking for him ever since. Pete Catron thinks the rifle used to do it was a Sharps and that the shooter came this way. Told me he thought you owned a Sharps. That true, Mr. Pike?” He bared his teeth in a menacing grin.
Rufus spat a stream at the green creosote bush and stared back at Stone unblinking. “Yep, I have a Sharps. So do about a hundert other folks on this here side of the mountains.”
Stone said, “Yes, sir, you’re right about that. But you’re the only one that does on this trail, and Catron thinks the shooter rode by here. You got anybody living with you inside that shack, Mr. Pike?”
Rufus stared straight at Stone and said, “Nope.”
“Well, do you mind if my partner Mr. Bentene here takes a look?”
Rufus spat another stream in the dirt where Bentene would have to step and said, “Hell, yes, I mind. I’m a-tellin’ ye now to git off my place. Ye ain’t got no business in here.”
Stone drew his Colt. He pointed it directly at Rufus. Slowly cocking it as his finger curled around the trigger, he said, “Oh, we got business here, and you don’t care if we look, do you? Step inside and look around, Charlie.”
My heart was pounding. I was crazy with anger and scared to death they were going to do something to Rufus. If Bentene looked inside, he’d know that there were two of us there. I was going to get caught, and I still owed those two for my daddy. I tried to think what Rufus would tell them, but he said nothing as Bentene swung down off his horse, pulled his revolver, and cocked it as he walked around Cody, who was making a deep-throated growl. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.
In a couple of minutes, Bentene came out grinning like a coyote that’s caught a quail. He had the Sharps, and he said, “He was getting supper ready for two people, Jack, and there’s a bedroll on the floor next to the fire. Here’s the Sharps. Looks like it’s been shot often, but it’s clean. There ain’t no telescope for it that I saw.”
Stone said with a barely concealed snarl, “Two people? Why, Mr. Pike, you said nobody else was living here. Charlie, see if you can’t persuade Mr. Pike to tell us who the other fella or lady is.”
Bentene nodded. In one smooth motion, he viscously swung his revolver into Rufus’s face, making his head jerk to one side and his glasses go flying. The blow bloodied the left side of Rufus’s head and knocked him backwards, but he caught himself on a porch post before he fell. Cody was going wild, barking, straining with all his might on the rope to go for Bentene’s throat. I was sick about what they had done to Rufus because it was my fault. I wanted to kill ’em, and I would have, too, if I’d had the Sharps. I did the only thing I thought I could do. I appeared from behind the bush and walked over to the house ready to die, ready to confess that I had shot at Stone.
I wanted to vomit, and my knees had turned to water. I had failed Daddy. I’d never see Mama again. Now Rufus would probably get shot or beat up or worse. I gritted my teeth and forced my feet to move forward. The riders stared at me like I was a ghost. Then Stone’s ugly grin turned to a snarl as he squinted at me with his wolf’s eyes. A shadow of uncertainty fell over his face. I reckon he hadn’t expected a kid to come walking out of the bushes. I saw him frown.
I started to speak, but Rufus spoke up and said, “The kid’s just helpin’ me for a few weeks with chores. He ain’t nothin’ or nobody ye’re a-wantin’. His daddy lives over to the reservation. He ain’t hurtin’ nobody. He don’t even speak good English. Ye afraid this kid’s gonna shoot ye, Stone? Leave him alone!”
Stone looked from me to Rufus and said so low I could barely hear him, “Calm down that goddamn dog, or I’ll kill him. Give me that rifle, and get on your horse, Charlie.” Bentene holstered his gun. He stepped off the porch, tossed Little David up to Stone, and swung up onto his horse. The coyote grin never left his face.
Rufus stumbled inside, dragging Cody. I could hear him speaking to him soothingly as he tied him to a bedpost. Stone and Bentene sat on their horses, waiting for Rufus to come back outside. Cody still barked, but he wasn’t going crazy anymore. Rufus had blood running down from a gash on the side of his face, and a big, ugly bruise was forming around it. He wobbled back outside, squinting hard to get a little focus as he looked around the porch until he found his glasses in the dirt at the bottom of the steps. The left lens was cracked and the frames were twisted. He put them back on just as they were. He spat toward the creosote bush and stared up at Stone, apparently unafraid, waiting for his next move.
Stone’s eyes were deadly serious as he frowned and searched my face. Finally, he said, “You look like some kid I’ve seen before. You remember me?” I just looked at him, pretending I hadn’t understood a word.
Rufus said, “He don’t understand English too good. Now, damn it, leave him alone!” Rufus stood there like nothing had happened, his hands in fists, blood running down his face. It seemed to me he was in charge, ready to attack. I knew they would have to kill him to get me. Rufus wasn’t going to be bullied.
“Shut up before I bend this rifle barrel over your head and we have to dig a grave for you, you old bastard,” Stone said, clenching his teeth and waving the heavy weapon a few inches above Rufus’s head.
Stone continued to stare at me over Rufus’s shoulder. He leaned toward me and shouted “Como se llama?” as though I were deaf. I just stared at him and didn’t say anything. He looked at Rufus and said, “What is he? A deaf half-breed? He’s too light to be full Apache. Must have a Mex mama. All right, Pike, so you got a kid working here. Chores for beans, huh? Mighty charitable of you. I bet you’re working his tail off for them beans, too, ain’t you?”
Stone let the hammer down slowly, holstered his Colt, and scratched his stubble-covered neck as he looked around. He turned back to Rufus. “I know this kid from somewhere. Maybe I’ve just seen him around.” He laughed and said, “I guess it don’t make no difference, does it? He ain’t gonna be shooting no rifle this heavy, especially at me, seven or eight miles from here. Pike, I’m thinking all the shooter signs point to this here shack. Even so, it just don’t make no sense for you to go to all the trouble to be tryin’ to bushwhack me at my friend’s ranch.”
He tossed the rifle over to Bentene and said to Rufus, “Old Charlie’s gonna keep that good-for-nothing old thunder gun of yours, just in case you were involved in my hat trick. You lost a rifle and got a little tap on the side of your head. That’s nothing, mister. If there’s ever another shot from somebody ain’t facing me and the trail signs even point to the west side of the Organs, I’m gonna come back here and burn this place to the ground with you in it. Don’t ever cross me, Pike. I’ll blow a hole in you big enough for that damn dog to run through if you do.” Then he turned said, “Let’s go, boys.”
Stone jerked his horse around and trotted off. Charlie and his other men pulled back, waiting for him to take the lead back down the trail. Rufus stood there watching them go. Blood from his face had covered the front of his dirty long johns. He stood there unflinching, waiting for them to disappear. I ran up to him in tears, so sorry I had caused his misery.
CHAPTER 30
STITCHES
When Stone and his men were out of sight, Rufus swayed, staggered backwards a couple of steps, and heavily sat down on the porch step. Then he laughed, slapped his knee, and said, “That there is one scared son of a bitch, Henry. Ye flat put the fear of God in him, ye did.” He rubbed his aching head and said quietly, “Let Cody outta the house, boy, ’fore he gets loose and eats our grub. Then bring me a bucket of water and a rag to wash this blood off, will ye?”
I let Cody out of the shack and ran to get the bucket of water I’d left behind the bushes. When I got back to the porch, Rufus said, “See if ye can find a clean rag over by the wash bucket to clean me up. This ’un I got here in my pocket
is dirty.”
I found a clean rag, wet it, and began to dab at the blood on his face. The bruise continued to get uglier. His eye had swollen shut, and the broken skin across his cheekbone must have been two or three inches long. I knew he must be hurting badly, but he sat calm and still on the porch step with his hands on his knees while I fumbled around trying to doctor him. When I finished washing him, he said, “Now, fetch me a mirror and that half bottle of whiskey that’s under my bed. Here, give me that rag, and I’ll do a little extry washin’ while ye look fer ’em.”
The whiskey bottle was right where he said it was. I gave him the whiskey and ran over to the corral where he kept a washbasin. He had a broken piece of mirror there he occasionally used when he shaved, and I brought that to him.
Rufus looked at his reflection with his one good eye and grunted. He winced a few times when he probed around the cut area with his gnarled forefinger. I stood there watching Rufus doctoring himself and marveled at how much damage the barrel of a gun could do to a man’s face. He took a long pull from the bottle, smacked his, lips and said, “Reckin I’m lucky. Don’t think my cheekbone’s broke. Does look like we’ll have to do a little sewing, though. Go get my possibles bag, will ye, Henry?”
I found the bag next to his bed. It was a soft buckskin pouch with fine beadwork on the flap. He rummaged around in it until he brought out a small piece of folded leather, unfolded it, and took out a curved needle about two inches long and several pieces of sinew. He popped the sinew in his mouth to soften it, and struck a big sulfur match to sanitize the needle. “Remember how I taught ye to sew up yore breechcloth when ye tore it a-slidin’ across them rocks?” he asked.
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