by Ralph Cotton
When they arrived at the small room attached to the rear of the church, Francisca knocked quietly and stood facing the door until it creaked open and an aged priest stood holding on to it for support. Looking first at the girl and then at Shaw and Paco flanking her, he asked in a weak and ill-sounding voice, "Child, what are you doing with these two?’’
"Padre, this is the angel I told you about,’’ Francisca said, motioning toward Shaw. "Can we come in?’’
"Angel?’’ The old priest looked both Shaw and Paco up and down, a skeptical expression on his pale, drawn face. "Child, you must stop this foolishness. This man is no angel, he is a murderer.’’ His gaze fixed on Shaw. "I watched from the rooftop as he killed three men in the street today.’’ He moved his gaze to Paco. "And this one, he rides with the desperados! I have seen him many times with them. Shame on you,’’ he blurted at Paco with a cold stare. "You are one of us, and yet you reject us and ride with these desperados.’’
"Sí,’’ Paco said, stepping forward, "I ride with these men. I will ride with them so long as it suits me. I do so without your permission, and without accepting your judgment of me, old one.’’ His hand grasped his gun butt instinctively. But then he caught himself and stood back.
"Padre, please,’’ Francisca said quickly, "Senor Angel was kind enough to bring me here.’’
"Senor Angel indeed,’’ the old priest said, his weak voice seeming to find strength in his anger.
Ignoring the old priest’s manner, Shaw stepped forward and cut in, saying, "Padre, I didn’t come here to argue with you. The streets are not safe for a young girl alone tonight. Francisca can’t go home just now.’’ He gave the old priest a knowing look.
"Enough,’’ the old priest said with a wave of his ancient hand. "I know why she cannot go home. It is because one of your kind has destroyed her family. This is the sort of thing men like you bring to our doorsteps.’’
"I only arrived today, Father,’’ Shaw said. "I brought nothing to your doorstep. When I leave, I hope to leave your doorstep in the same manner.’’
"Three men you have killed!’’ The old priest held up three knotted fingers. "Death is what you brought. Murder is what you brought!’’
"Death, yes,’’ Shaw said in a mild tone. "But not murder, Father.’’ He shook his head slowly. "Those men wanted to kill me. I killed them first. Is that murder?’’
"Murder or not, what you did is a sin,’’ the priest retaliated.
"What would you have had him do, Padre, let them kill him without defending himself?’’ Paco cut in and asked, Shaw not seeming interested one way or the other in what the priest had to say on the matter.
"With faith, God would have protected him,’’ the priest said.
"Ah, I see,’’ Paco said, leaning in closer, right in the old priest’s face. "God protects those of us fortunate enough to have such faith. But for us less fortunate whose faith is lacking, we must stand up and protect ourselves.’’
"Blasphemer! Get away from this holy place!’’ the old priest shouted angrily. "This is God’s house and you defile it.’’ He hurriedly pulled Francisca inside. To Shaw he said in a harsh tone, "If you were an angel, as this poor child thinks you are, you would go! You would ride away, leave our village and allow God to work things out for us as he sees fit!’’
"Please don’t go, Senor Angel!’’ Shaw heard Francisca cry out just before the door slammed in his face.
"Well,’’ Paco said with a slight chuckle, "I have done my job showing you around. You have seen both the good’’—he gestured a hand toward the closed door of the church, then in the direction of the cantina, where music and laughter loomed above the street—"and the evil. What do you think?’’
"I think it would be hard for one to get along without the other,’’ Shaw said. He turned from the door of the church and walked away in the darkening night.
Walking beside him, Paco said, "Believe me, if you were to go in and kill Quinn Madsen tonight, it would not solve the girl’s and her mother’s problem, it would only change it. The mother would be free from Madsen, but her husband would be dead.’’
"I wasn’t thinking about killing him,’’ Shaw said. "But it appears the thought might have crossed your mind.’’
"Me?’’ Paco grinned. "No, amigo, I have not thought about killing Madsen. I ride with him for money, and I mean for big money. It would be foolish for me to think about killing him, even if I could.’’
"Where does Madsen keep the girl’s father?’’ Shaw asked quietly.
After a silent pause as Paco looked all around the encroaching darkness, he said, "The man’s name is Nito Gomez. Madsen owns interest in the Luzzo tin mines fifty miles east of here in the hills. He had Nito taken there to work off some trumped-up debt he claims the man owes him.’’ He paused again, then said, "It is an old game the Spanish dons used to play with their peasants. The husband is no more than a prisoner. He cannot leave. Yet Madsen tells the woman he will keep the husband fed and well treated so long as she submits herself to whatever he wants from her. It brings shame to the family, and in the end the husband always dies.’’
Shaw looked at him. "Sounds like you’ve given all this some thought.’’
"Sí, perhaps,’’ Paco conceded with a slight shrug. "But I am sure Madsen has told the man that if he tries to escape his wife and daughter will be killed. So there is no way out for any of them.’’
"Not so long as Madsen is alive,’’ Shaw offered. "The girl is right. Somebody needs to kill Madsen.’’
"Yes,’’ Paco agreed. "But not one of us. Much better if the angel she prays for does ride in off the desert floor and kill him.’’ He grinned.
"Yeah, some desert angel,’’ Shaw said, gesturing back toward the weathered church, "not a couple of sinners like us.’’ The two walked on in the darkness toward the light of the cantina.
"No, my friend,’’ Paco agreed, sounding relieved, "it is not a job for sinners like us.’’
After a silence Shaw asked, "Do you still think it would be interesting riding with me?’’
Paco smiled, staring straight ahead. "Not only will it be interesting,’’ he said. "I believe it might be a little dangerous.’’ He paused, then said, "You have something in mind regarding the girl and her mother, eh?’’
"That’s right,’’ said Shaw. "I’m going to take a little ride for a couple days. I want you to cover for me while I’m gone.’’
Paco hesitated. "I know where it is you go. You go to free Nito and reunite him to his family, all this because the girl thinks you are an angel.’’
"Yeah,’’ Shaw said in a wry tone, "I’ve always wondered how it feels, being an angel.’’
"And you want me to lie for you?’’ Paco added. "Cover for you while you ride to the mines?’’
"Yep,’’ said Shaw.
"You ask so much from one who hardly knows you. Why do you think I would do that, risk my neck for you?’’
"Because you’ve been seeing what goes on with the child and her mother, and you’ve wished yourself that some angel would ride in and do something for them.’’
Paco let out a breath. "I hope you are not about to do something that will get me killed.’’
Julimez, Mexico
The face of Wild Dick Bernie appeared briefly in the darkened open window until a rifle shot exploded from across the empty street and sent a bullet thumping into the adobe. "Damn it,’’ he shouted, dropping down out of sight. "Why doesn’t Deacon come on with our horses?’’ Five feet away on the dirt floor a half-naked prostitute lay dead in a pool of blood. Near her side lay a naked outlaw named Orville Nolan. Dark blood surged from his gaping mouth as his body twitched and struggled against death’s cold embrace.
On the dirt floor, a gunman named Sonny Engles looked at the third gunman and said, "Tell him, Hatch.’’
Morgan Hatch levered a fresh round into his rifle chamber and said, "Deacon ain’t coming, Wild Dick. They’ve left us jackpotted.’’ In
a far corner two other young prostitutes huddled with their arms around each other, sobbing in terror.
"The hell?’’ said Wild Dick. "I’ve never known Deak to jackpot a man.’’
"This law posse has dogged us nearly a full week,’’ said Hatch. "Deacon’s had plenty of time to decide who to give to them while him and Charlie Bone and Blackie save their own skin.’’
"I just don’t believe it,’’ Wild Dick persisted. "Bone or Blackie maybe, but not Deacon Lucas.’’ Another rifle shot exploded from across the dark street. The bullet sliced through the open window above Wild Dick’s head and thumped into the far wall.
"Oh?’’ said Sonny. "In that case, you tell us where our damn horses are. We’ve been pinned here too long. Deacon and Bone have hightailed it on us.’’ Two more shots resounded.
"We never should have left our horses so far away,’’ said Wild Dick. He brooded for a moment, then relented and said, "Maybe they did jackpot us, but this is not the time to jaw about it. What do we do now?’’
"We grab these whores for cover, shoot our way out of here and keep moving,’’ said Morgan Hatch. The two women in the corner jabbered and sobbed more intently upon hearing his words. "The longer we wait here, the worse this little shindig is going to get.’’ He rose onto a knee, fired a quick shot out through the window and ducked back down as a volley of rifle fire responded. "I don’t know about you two, but I’m about as mean as a damn rattlesnake when I’m cornered,’’ he said with bold defiance. As he spoke he raised a Colt from its holster, checked it and put it away.
Wild Dick and Sonny Engles looked at each other in the blue darkness. "Hell yes, so am I,’’ said Sonny.
Wild Dick levered a fresh round into his rifle chamber and said, "Me too, let’s let ’er buck.’’
Hatch looked over at the two frightened young women and said, "Girls, we’re going to have to impose on yas to help us out here....’’
Outside in the darkness across the empty street, Lon Bixby watched the surrounded adobe building as he spoke to one of the seven men lined along the street beside him. "We shouldn’t be doing this at night.’’
"Oh? What are you, Lon, an Apache now? You don’t fight at night?’’ said Odell Macky.
"Maybe the Apache knows something that we don’t,’’ Bixby countered. "Anyway, I’d feel better if we waited until Dawson and his deputy show up.’’
"Damn it, Lon, there’s seven of us here, eight counting Jimmy Peck,’’ said Odell Macky. "We’re all primed and loaded. I’ll be plumb ashamed to face Dawson and his man if they see us hunkered down here like a pack of rabbits. Let’s flush them out. We’ve already started the fight with them. They know we’re here.’’
After a moment of tense silent contemplation, Lon Bixby rose and said, "Boys, let’s put it to a vote.’’
"A vote?’’ Macky said in disbelief.
"Hell yes, a vote,’’ Lon replied indignantly. "It was the way our forefathers did things. It was good enough for Ben Franklin. It’s damn well good enough for me.’’ He stood up more and looked along the line of men lying behind firewood, water troughs and shipping crates. "I want everybody who thinks we should charge in and take these men on our own to signify by saying—’’
His words stopped short as a bullet ripped through his forehead.
"My God, Lon’s dead!’’ Mason shouted, wiping Bixby’s warm blood from his eyes as the three outlaws came spilling from the adobe, their rifles blazing in the darkness, the young women screaming as the gunmen held them tightly to their chests.
"Don’t shoot, they’ve got hostages!’’ one posse man shouted. But in spite of his words, along the street the other posse men returned fire as the three gunmen hurried along the street toward the hitch rail where they had left their horses.
Seeing the empty hitch rail awaiting them in the pale moonlight, Hatch shouted above the gunfire, "The horses are gone!’’ He shoved the limp, blood-slick body of one of the prostitutes away from him and fired back toward the riflemen.
"What now?’’ shouted Sonny, the young woman screaming and struggling madly against his chest as he returned fire with bullets zipping past them.
Wild Dick bellowed loudly and began a crazy broken dance as bullets nipped and sliced at him.
Grabbing the badly wounded gunman and giving him a shove, Hatch shouted to Sonny, "We take these sons a’ bitches’ horses!’’
Seeing the men and their remaining hostage head for the posse’s horses standing between two buildings a block away, Odell Macky shouted as he fired, "They’re going for our horses! Stop them! Give Jimmy some help!’’
In the alleyway between the two buildings, a young man named Jimmy Peck fired bravely at the charging gunmen while he held the reins to the posse’s horses wrapped together in his gloved hand. But he was no match for the desperate outlaws. A bullet from Hatch’s big Colt slammed into his chest and sent him sprawling back among the frightened animals, his hand still gripping their reins, the horses spooked, on the verge of bolting away.
"Get on!’’ shouted Hatch, grabbing the reins to two horses from Peck’s dying hand and shoving Wild Dick up onto a saddle.
Sonny pushed the screaming young woman away from him and grabbed the reins to two of the horses as the others streaked past him. "You are one lucky whore!’’ he shouted at the young woman, who huddled down into a ball against the side of the building. He turned and fired at the posse men, who had stood up from their cover and come running forward, firing wildly in an attempt to save their horses.
"Can you shoot?’’ Hatch asked Wild Dick, who lay forward, holding on to his saddle horn, his chest, back, shoulder, legs and head covered with blood. The upper half of one ear had been sliced off by a bullet graze. "It looks like you took the brunt of it.’’
"I did, but hell yes, I can shoot!’’ shouted Wild Dick, bullets nipping against the walls and zipping through the air around him. "Give me a good slap and stand back!’’
"See you in hell, then,’’ Hatch bellowed, slapping the horse solidly on its rump.
As the animal bolted away amid a volley of rifle fire, Wild Dick wobbled in his saddle and fired steadily toward the oncoming posse men. "Come on, Hatch, damn it!’’ shouted Sonny, throwing the reins of one of the horses into Hatch’s hand.
Hatch leaped up into the saddle and started to bolt away. But then he stopped and looked at Sonny as bullets sliced through the air close to his head. "To hell with them. I’m taking down as many of them as I can!’’
"Are you loco?’’ shouted Sonny. But before the words left his mouth he saw Hatch slap the horse’s rump with his rifle barrel and send the horse straight into the rifle fire.
"Hell, why not?’’ Sonny growled under his breath. He nailed his spurs to the animal’s side and raced out into the fray, his Colt blazing in his hand.
Chapter 7
Odell Macky stood in the middle of the street watching the two horsemen come charging toward him from behind exploding blossoms of gunshots. "My God, does nothing stop these devils!’’ he whispered to himself. The dark street had become lit by streaks and flashes of gunfire coming from either end. At the far end of the street, Wild Dick had stopped and looked back, realizing that Morgan Hatch and Sonny Engles had turned and ridden into the fight. Lying limply forward, hanging on to his saddle horn, he said in a rasping voice, "Boys, you ain’t leaving me to die like a gut-shot dog.’’
On the street, a bullet from Hatch’s gun hit Macky high in his shoulder and spun him in a full circle before flinging him backward off his feet. A posse man named Ed Whitfield rushed over in a crouch, grabbed Macky by his coat collar and began dragging him to cover as the two charging outlaws bore down upon them.
"Sa-save yourself, Ed,’’ Macky said, his boot heels plowing two long streaks in the dirt behind him.
As a bullet whistled past Whitfield’s head, he stopped dragging Macky long enough to return fire toward the coming horsemen and said, "I fear I’m unable to save either of us, Odell.’’
>
No sooner had he spoken his words than a wild bullet from the remaining posse men lifted him out of his crouch and slammed him to the dirt. Above Macky, Hatch stormed past, the horse’s hooves coming dangerously close to slamming down on the wounded man’s chest. Only a second behind Hatch, Sonny Engles raced along. Lying off onto his horse’s side, Lakota-style, he fired from under the horse’s neck, shrieking out a war cry.
Under the fierceness of the two outlaws’ attack, the posse men ceased firing and fled the wide-open street for cover. One, a former Pinkerton detective, stood his ground until a bullet from Engles punched through his heart and flipped him backward. Another posse man ran into the firelight of a street torch just long enough for both Hatch and Engles to see him clearly. Hatch jerked his rifle around toward the man, but before he got off a shot, a bullet from Engles’ Colt nailed the man in his back.
"Lord! It’s like fighting the savages!’’ said a wounded posse man, seeing Engles streak past in the shadowy darkness.
"Kill ’em all, Sonny!’’ shouted Hatch, sliding his horse down to a halt and spinning it around in order to ride back through the posse men again. Engles came right behind him, straightening up in his saddle. "Are you hit?’’ Hatch asked, holding his horse back for a second, just long enough to check on the other outlaw. On the street the firing had stopped.
"Yeah, but not bad,’’ said Engles, slinging blood from his left hand, blood that had run down from the bullet hole in upper arm. "You?’’
"A couple nicks,’’ said Hatch, levering his rifle one-handed, ready to get back into the fight. "I’ll make it.’’
The two started to spur their horses forward at the same time. But before they got the chance, a voice called out from the darkness between two adobe buildings, "We’ve had enough! We give up.’’
Hatch and Engles looked at each other in surprise. Engles gave a dark chuckle. "The hell is he talking about?’’
"You can’t give up, you sons a’ bitches!’’ Hatch called out to the dark silent street. "This is not a kids’ game.’’