by Ralph Cotton
’’Why so many new men?" Hatch asked Leeman as Sonny stood wondering whether or not he should push Shaw a little, just enough to see how Shaw would handle it.
’’We’re going to need a lot of men," said Leeman. ’’Now that I’m in charge, we’re taking on some bigger jobs."
’’Oh, what sort of jobs?" Hatch asked.
Shaw listened to the two men talk. At the same time he kept an eye on Sonny Engles.
’’I always figured the tales I heard about you was more wind than muscle, Shaw," Engles said, keeping it civil, but at the same time testing Shaw’s temperament. He stepped in closer, a move that told Shaw he didn’t intend on turning this into a gunfight, not right now. Had he wanted a gunfight he would have stayed back a ways. This was something else. But it was nothing Shaw hadn’t seen before.
’’How about the Mexican government’s gold station at Durango for starters?" Leeman replied to Hatch, keeping his voice private between the two of them, Shaw hearing it all the same.
’’That sounds good to me," said Hatch. Shaw caught every word of it. The government gold station at Durango . . .
Standing in Shaw’s face, Sonny Engles said in a threatening tone, ’’See, I’m awfully dang fast myself, Shaw. I figure it ain’t likely anybody could be as—"
Hatch, the woman and Leeman all three turned quickly at the sound of gunmetal against jawbone. The rest of the men in the street tensed. Engles had already crumbled to the ground, not knowing what had hit him. Morgan Hatch grabbed for his gun instinctively, uncertain whether this was something between Sonny and Shaw or something Leeman had set up. But before his gun barrel cleared the holster, Shaw’s Colt was pointed at him, cocked. The woman stood with her hand on the gun at her waist.
’’When your monkey wakes up, tell him I could have killed him if I had a mind to," Shaw said to Hatch, knowing his words were also meant for Hatch himself to consider.
Hatch uncoiled, knowing Shaw was right. He let his Colt slip back down into the holster. He’d run a glance across Deacon Leeman and seen that Leeman had been as surprised as he was by Shaw’s move. ’’I’ll tell him," Hatch said calmly, raising his hand away from his gun. The men in the street relaxed; so did the woman.
’’Tell him next time, I’ll kill him," Shaw said with resolve. Keeping a cold gaze on Morgan Hatch, he uncocked the hammer on his Colt and holstered it with a slick flick of his wrist.
Leeman chuckled. ’’Well now, I have to say, that was as slick and skillful as anything I’ve seen for a while." He wanted to appear as if he maintained some say-so over Shaw. ’’Next time, don’t be jerking iron without letting me know beforehand." He looked down at Engles, shook his head and laughed for the other men to hear. ’’It looks like you put Sonny on soup and water for the next week or two."
’’That was the best thing I had for him," Shaw said, again giving Hatch a look. He took up his horse’s reins and led the animal away toward the stables. But when he had turned a corner out of sight, he stepped up into his saddle and nudged the big buckskin toward a long trail leading out of town.
On the street, Hatch reached down with the woman’s help and raised Engles to a slumped sitting position. ’’Was Sonny crowding him?" Leeman asked.
’’More than likely," said Hatch. ’’He crowds everybody, especially somebody he thinks is good with a gun."
’’So Shaw saw trouble coming with him and didn’t even give it a chance to start," Leeman said in contemplation. ’’I expect it’s that kind of forethought that’s kept him alive all this time."
’’Yeah," said Hatch. ’’Trouble is, Sonny is not the kind to let something like this go. He’ll be down Shaw’s neck first time he’s able."
’’I expect Shaw allows for that possibility too," Leeman said, looking off toward the stables where he thought Shaw had taken his horse.
From a high trail, Dawson, Caldwell and Tunis stood looking down at the flyblown carcass of the water mule that Hatch, Engles and the woman had left behind. The animal’s throat had been cleanly cut. Only a portion of its hind leg had been carved off and roasted over a low fire at the edge of the trail. Caldwell stooped down, held his hand close to the ashes, then pressed his gloved palm down in the brittle embers, finding not the faintest warmth.
Standing, he brushed his hands together, shook his head and said, ’’The fire’s cold ... four hours or more."
Dawson nodded. Looking up from the mule and fire ashes and down the trail, he said, ’’At least we know they’re getting close to where they’re headed."
’’Oh, why’s that?" Tunis asked.
’’They took what was left of the water from the mule and killed the animal," said Dawson. ’’That means they won’t be needing another load of water. They’ll get by with what’s hanging on their saddle horns."
’’We should have questioned the Mexican family we saw ride past us on the lower trail yesterday," Tunis said. ’’They might have seen them."
’’It would have cost us a half hour riding down and around to them," Caldwell said.
’’Besides," said Dawson, ’’if the family had passed close by them, these three would have killed them for their guns and horses." He spat and thought about it. ’’The Mexican was wearing a big modern Colt. Him, his wife and the young girl were all three riding good horses."
Caldwell said, ’’These raiders couldn’t have resisted robbing and killing them, had they come upon one another."
’’Lucky those folks took the trail they’re on," Dawson said. ’’This one would have gotten them killed." He turned and stepped back up into his saddle. ’’Let’s go. I’ve got a feeling we’ll find them holed up out on the flats once we get down there."
’’Where’s the nearest water stop out there?" Tunis asked, he and Caldwell also stepping up into their saddles.
’’Zarco," said Caldwell. ’’It used to be used as a federale outpost, a resting place for soldiers hunting down the Apache. Last I heard there’s few people living there now. But there is water there. The government sunk a deep well for the soldiers. So folks have come and gone ever since."
’’Sounds like a dandy place for a gang like the border raiders to hide out," Tunis said, nudging his horse along beside Caldwell, Dawson in the lead down the high meandering trail. ’’I don’t mind telling you both, this desert has worn me down. If Messenger wants an official report when we get through out here, he’ll have to write one himself."
Dawson gave a thin, wry smile, realizing he hadn’t seen a pencil or paper in Tunis’ hand since the day they had buried Grady Carr. Once they had gathered their scattered horses from the desert floor and ridden away from Carr’s shallow grave, Tunis had held his writing paper above his head and let the hot wind sweep it away.
They rode downward along thin natural switch-backs carved into the rocky ground by hundreds of years of wild hooves and claws. In the afternoon as shadows drew long across the flats below, Dawson spotted the single rider moving in and out of sight before he had the opportunity to see that it was Shaw riding up onto the hill trail toward them.
’’We’ve got a rider coming up," Dawson said quietly. ’’We’ll be meeting him at just about dark," he estimated, gazing toward the low red sun on the western edge of the jagged earth.
The three rode on, Tunis reaching down and drawing his rifle from its boot and laying it across his lap.
’’Take it easy, Tunis," said Dawson. ’’We don’t want any more innocent blood on our hands."
Tunis caught the reference to his and Carr mistakenly shooting Randall Wynn. His chin tightened in. ’’I’m not a complete idiot, Marshal," he said. ’’At the same time, I plan to be prepared if this is not some innocent pilgrim." He looked around as if questioning what innocent pilgrim would be caught in such a godforsaken place.
’’I understand," said Dawson. ’’But think long and hard before you bring your Winchester into play. We don’t need to reveal our position, especially this close to dark."
Tuni
s understood. With no more said on the matter, he left his Winchester on his lap, but he took his hand away from the stock near the trigger guard.
They rode on.
Below, as darkness closed in along the high shadowy trail, Shaw heard the first sound of hooves click slowly on the rocky trail coming down toward him. Veering his buckskin over along the trail’s edge into the cover of a pile of fallen rock, he waited and listened closely until the sound of the hooves drew nearer. Moments later, when he was certain of what he was hearing, Shaw slipped down from his saddle, drew his rifle, wrapped his reins around his saddle horn and gave the buckskin a nudge out onto the trail.
Twenty minutes later, on a shadowed ledge above the trail, Caldwell and Tunis moved along in a crouch, the reins to their horses in hand. They looked down, keeping close watch on Dawson as he rode his horse along at a walk, the sound of the buckskin’s hooves drawing nearer.
Dawson held his rifle ready across his lap. As the sound of hooves came around a turn in the trail, he started to raise the rifle and tell the rider to halt. But at the sight of the empty saddle on the big horse, he looked all around quickly, knowing he’d been tricked.
From the ledge above the trail Caldwell and Tunis saw it too. ’’Uh-oh," said Caldwell, ’’we’ve got trouble!" He stood and started to turn and lead his horse down to the trail. But the voice in the darkness behind him said, ’’I’ll say you’ve got trouble, Deputy."
Tunis started to swing his rifle toward the darkness, but Caldwell, having recognized Shaw’s voice, said, ’’Don’t shoot, Tunis. It’s Lawrence Shaw."
On the trail below, Dawson recognized the buckskin and Shaw’s saddle and tack and called up to Caldwell, ’’Jedson, watch where you shoot. Shaw’s out here somewhere."
’’No, he’s not," Caldwell called down. ’’He’s up here. He’s managed to slip around and get the drop on us."
’’Hold my horse for me, Cray," Shaw called out. ’’We’re coming down. I’ve been riding all day looking for you."
Chapter 19
In the shelter of a cliff overhang, the four men had coffee and rested their horses while Dawson and Caldwell told Shaw about their mission to break up the border raiders by any means necessary. When they were finished telling him about the posse, Grady Carr and Randall Wynn, Shaw shook his head and gazed for a moment into the low flames of the fire.
’’I suppose Messenger still doesn’t realize that you need more men if you really plan on cleaning up the border," he said quietly.
Tunis cut in, saying in Messenger’s defense, ’’I believe he does realize it. That’s why he sent Agent Carr and myself along on this matter."
’’No offense, Agent Tunis," said Shaw, ’’but it’s a waste of time and lives, sending two men who don’t know this terrain, and who haven’t dealt with these kinds of men before."
’’No offense taken," said Tunis, a bit grudgingly. He didn’t attempt to argue the point. Instead he sipped his coffee and fell silent.
’’I’m afraid Messenger got himself overly impressed by what the three of us did at Hell’s Gate," said Dawson. ’’Now he thinks we can do the impossible."
Shaw nodded. ’’You two did do a hell of a job taking down Sepreano and the Barrows Gang."
’’We had some good fortune," said Dawson.
Caldwell cut in. ’’We had you riding with us. You managed to get on the inside."
Shaw just looked at Caldwell.
’’Jedson’s right," said Dawson. ’’You softened them up for us before we even got there. We had some lucky breaks at Hell’s Gate. We’ve had nothing but a hard ride and a lot of casualties this trip."
’’If you don’t mind me asking," Caldwell said warily to Shaw, ’’what happened to you after Hell’s Gate? You just rode off, didn’t say when you was coming back, didn’t even say if you was coming back."
Shaw studied the short blue flames dancing beneath the battered coffeepot for a moment. ’’I didn’t know when, and I wasn’t sure if," he finally replied. ’’I had my own reasons for being on the Barrowses’ trail. I was out for blood. I got it. It was time to go." He sipped his coffee.
’’You never turned your badge in," Dawson said. ’’Far as that goes you never told anybody you quit. You’re still a deputy, if you want to be."
Shaw gave a thin, tired smile and said, ’’After all this time? Messenger would still take me back?" He shook his head. ’’He must be hard up for good help." He cast a glance at Tunis and added, ’’Again, no offense intended."
’’Again, none taken," said Tunis, studying Shaw’s face in the flicker of low firelight. Like everyone else, Tunis, the government agent, found himself curious about Fast Larry Shaw, the man known as the fastest gun alive. ’’So, are you ever going to pin that badge on?" he asked.
Shaw looked at him.
’’Agent Tunis will be reporting to Messenger what he learns out here," said Dawson.
’’I see," said Shaw, ’’so the folks in Washington will know whose side to take when it’s time to call this venture either a success or a failure."
’’Well spoken," Tunis said, having to give a short grin at Shaw’s political insight. He looked at Dawson and Caldwell. ’’The fact it, I’m not concerned with giving Messenger a report. I haven’t been since the day Grady got his throat cut. I simply want to bring this hunt to an end and go home. If there’s a report called for at that time, I’ll come up with something. I doubt if it will be completely accurate, but it won’t be anything like it was living out here." He paused, then added, ’’Messenger probably knows that already."
’’You’re starting to sound like us," said Dawson, with a pleased look on his face.
’’No matter what you think of me, of my savvy or my lack of savvy, I came out here to fight. When the time comes I plan on fighting gamely. Live or die, I will do my best."
’’Hear, hear," Caldwell said sincerely. He reached out, picked up the battered coffeepot and topped off Tunis’ cup.
Shaw studied their faces, seeing men act the way men act toward one another when they know they’re about to face death together. ’’That brings me to why I’m here," he said. ’’I came to tell you that Zarco is crawling with border raiders, and there’s more showing up every day."
’’But Madsen is there, and by now so is Deacon Lucas, and the ones we chased from Arajo," said Dawson, ’’the ones who killed all the posse men."
’’Madsen is dead," said Shaw. ’’A Mexican woman he’d been bullying set fire to him."
’’Good, that’s one less ... ," Dawson said, slightly raising his coffee cup as if in a toast.
’’But, yes, the rest are there," said Shaw. ’’There’s over twenty gunmen gathered there." He looked from face to face to see whether the numbers made any impression on these two lawmen and the government agent. They didn’t seem to. He paused, then asked quietly, ’’Did everybody hear me?"
’’We heard you, Shaw," said Dawson, ’’but the number of guns doesn’t change anything. We’re doing our jobs. I think you can understand that."
’’I can," said Shaw. ’’I can also understand if you decided to wait a few days until they ride out of Zarco, then take the gang apart a little at a time up along these hill trails."
’’What makes you so sure they’ll be leaving Zarco in a few days?" Dawson asked.
’’I heard Leeman telling Morgan Hatch they’re going to hit the gold station in Durango," Shaw said. He checked their faces for a response.
’’The government gold station," Caldwell said, contemplating the news.
’’That sounds awfully ambitious," said Tunis, taking an interest in Shaw’s information.
’’Too ambitious," said Dawson, considering it. ’’Any chance Leeman was just feeding that to you, knowing you might bring the information to us?"
’’No," said Shaw. ’’I was talking to Sonny Engles at the time. Leeman didn’t think I heard him. He has no fear of the law. Why should he? The border raiders have been
playing both sides of the border so long, they don’t think either side will hold them to account."
’’Does he know you wore a badge and took down Sepreano and the Barrowses with us?" Dawson asked.
’’Yes, he does," said Shaw. ’’Drop the Dog Jones and Lying Earl Sunday have been riding with him ever since they got away from you two at Hell’s Gate. They told him everything they could think of about me. He knows I was a deputy, but he still wanted me to ride with him."
’’We can’t put this off any longer," Dawson said, after considering things. ’’We’ve got to strike while they’re gathered in one spot. Maybe they’ll head to Durango, maybe they won’t. But if they break away three and four at a time the way they’re known to do, we’ll be chasing them all over this desert again."
’’You won’t kill all of them if you hit them in Zarco," said Shaw. ’’You three against over twenty men?" He shook his head slowly. ’’You’ll still end up chasing them on to the next village, the next water hole—that’s provided they don’t kill all three of you first thing."
Dawson eyed him. ’’So, you rode all this way just to cheer us up?"
Shaw sipped his remaining coffee. Seeing nothing was going to stop these three, he gave up and said, ’’Yeah, I suppose so."
As Shaw was about to stand up to leave, Caldwell asked quickly, ’’Why don’t you ride with us, Shaw? You know that’s what we want to ask you to do." He looked at Dawson. ’’We’re just too stubborn to come out and say so."
’’I worked for the law because I had accounts to settle with Titus Boland for killing Anna Bengreen," said Shaw. ’’All I want now is to be left alone." He set his empty cup aside, stood up and dusted the seat of his trousers. ’’I’ve warned you what’s waiting in Zarco. Now I’ll take my leave."
’’Obliged," said Dawson, not about to pursue the matter of Shaw riding with them. ’’Where are you headed now?"