Gunmen of the Desert Sands

by Ralph Cotton

  Shaw didn’t take the bait. He only stared back and forth between the two opposing sides.

  ’’Shaw doesn’t count for nothing in this bunch," Sonny Engles cut in, his swollen face turning red with rage at the mention of Shaw’s name. ’’As soon as Hatch gives me a go-ahead, I’m killing Shaw, no matter which way the chips fall."

  Shaw glared at Engles.

  ’’Tell them where you stand, Shaw," Leeman said confidently, hoping the rest of the men would realize that he had Shaw backing his every move.

  ’’Yeah, Shaw," said Hatch, ’’where do you stand once the fat’s in the fire? Maybe you best tell everybody which side you’re on here."

  ’’I’m on my own side, like always," Shaw said. He looked all around, taking his time, letting his eyes go from man to man, then said, ’’There’s dirt between these hombres. I say, once the federales are gone, may the best man win." He spat, turned and walked away toward the stables.

  He had more to think about than which of these men would kill the others. He needed to figure a way to get word to Dawson and Caldwell that there would be federales closing in on Zarco real soon.

  This changed everything, he thought. He wasn’t sure how much good he had done coming back here, provoking the bad blood that ran between these men. But Dawson didn’t need him here in Zarco now. The Mexican army would keep the border raiders busy from one side, Dawson, Caldwell and Tunis from the other. All he had to do was find a way to slip the soldiers out of town, he told himself. Once they were safely headed south toward their column, he could ride north and warn Dawson what was about to happen.

  But as Shaw considered things, he looked away toward the stables where Butterfield and the woman had taken the two soldiers. What would happen to the soldiers when the federales charged the town? He knew the answer: These men would kill them. But he couldn’t let that happen. Not if he wanted to keep his stature as an angel, he told himself wryly, picturing the face of Francisca, her dark innocent eyes, the way she looked up to him to do the right thing.

  Shaw sighed to himself. Being an angel was the toughest work he’d ever done.

  Chapter 22

  Inside the stables, the woman kneeled over the wounded soldier, holding a wet cloth on the wound in his side. The other soldier, Martene, stood nearby, watching, his wrists behind his back, tied together around a support post. Butterfield turned to Shaw with his gun in hand. Mertz and Pearl had led the horses over to the livery. They’d followed Shaw inside as he entered. Shaw looked at the gun in Butterfield’s hand, then at his face.

  ’’Point it away from me, Butterfield," Shaw said quietly, but with a threatening stare.

  ’’Clell, do you know who this is?" Pearl asked, he and Mertz standing inside the open doorway behind Shaw.

  Butterfield looked at Shaw closely, then said in a mocking voice, ’’No, I don’t know who this is. Am I supposed to know every half-shaved peckerwood in Mexico?"

  ’’It’s Fast Larry Shaw," Mertz added, hoping to stop Butterfield before he got any more insulting.

  Butterfield’s face went blank for a moment. ’’The Fast Larry Shaw?" he asked, staring at Shaw, this time with a whole new attitude and demeanor.

  ’’Yep," said Mertz, ’’it’s the Fast Larry Shaw."

  ’’Well, I’ll be whupped blind," Clell Butterfield said, still staring at Shaw. ’’I had no idea that you’re Fast Larry Shaw. Man, I have heard a lot about you, all over Texas." He added quickly, ’’I meant no offense about your face being only half-shaved."

  ’’Forget it, Butterfield," Shaw said. He idly rubbed the smooth side of his face. ’’I’ve heard a lot about you too."

  ’’You’ve heard of me?" Butterfield smiled and gave Mertz and Pearl a smug look.

  ’’Yes," said Shaw. ’’You shot Whispering Tommy Lazlor in Benton Springs. You tracked down three jailbreakers and hung them by hand, up in Montana Territory."

  Butterfield pointed out to Mertz and Pearl quickly, ’’That was back when I worked on the other side of the law." He looked back at Shaw and changed the subject, saying, ’’So, you’re riding with us now? That’s a damn good thing to hear." His voice took on a formal tone. ’’Allow me to introduce you to Andrew Mertz and Wallace Pearl."

  ’’Friends call me Andy," said Mertz, giving Butterfield a look.

  ’’Pleased to meet you, Shaw," said Pearl. ’’Glad to hear you’re joining the raiders."

  Shaw didn’t answer. Instead he said, ’’I bet you could all three use some tequila, some mescal, to cut the dust from your gullets?"

  ’’You bet we could," said Butterfield, ’’in the worst kind of way."

  ’’Go ahead, then," said Shaw, ’’I’ll keep an eye on these two while la dama takes care of them."

  The lady . . . ? Juanita looked around at Shaw, then went back to cleaning the soldier’s wounded side.

  ’’Obliged, Fast Larry," said Butterfield. ’’It’s been a long, hot ride across the flats, what with killing the soldados and all." He gestured toward the soldier tied to the post. ’’I expect we’ll see you at the cantina later?"

  ’’You can count on it," Shaw said over his shoulder, stooping down beside the woman.

  As soon as the men left, Shaw asked the woman, ’’How is this one doing?"

  ’’It is a clean wound," she replied in good but seldom-spoken English. Shaw could tell by her wary expression that she wasn’t used to being spoken to in a civil manner. She touched a skilled fingertip to the bullet hole where a thin stream of blood ran down. ’’Luckily for him, the bullet went all the way through. He has lost blood but not so much that he is in danger. He will be all right so long as he catches no infection."

  Shaw looked at her closely. ’’This is not the first bullet wound you’ve ever cleaned and dressed, I can see that."

  ’’No, it is not." The woman appeared relieved by Shaw’s perception of her.

  ’’Where did you get so good at it?" he asked, not in a prying sort of way.

  Her saw her defenses rise. Her dark eyes turned caged, protecting things about herself she was not accustomed to revealing. ’’I am a puta, a whore, have you not heard?" she asked as if surprised. ’’Whores learn many things, including tending to gunshots."

  Shaw studied her as she gently pressed the wet cloth to the bleeding wound, blotting it. ’’That’s not what you started out as. That’s not where you learned your nursing." He looked through the tough patina the Mexican desert, its sun, its sand, its life had woven over her. Beneath it he saw the fine features, her nose, her brow, the tilt of her chin. ’’You’re not from this part of Mexico, are you?"

  ’’No, I am not." She breathed deep, letting her defenses back down a little, knowing this man saw more to her than what she had presented to the world in a long time. ’’I come from far south of here, from Chepaz." As she spoke, she tore a strip of white cloth, folded it expertly and laid it over the wound.

  ’’What brought you here?" Shaw asked, wanting to keep her talking as he decided whether or not he could trust her.

  ’’Men, of course," she replied. ’’Men like those." She nudged her head toward the doorway. ’’Men like Sonny Engles and Morgan Hatch." She held the cloth in place with her fingertips, looked at him and added with a questioning gaze, ’’Men like you, perhaps?"

  Shaw didn’t reply. He watched and listened. She had more to say, he knew it.

  ’’I am from Casa de Gutierrez. My father was the physician for the whole of Chepaz. I learned my skill from watching him attend people. But I foolishly fell in love and ran away with a man. He was not a good man. He brought me north and sold me to a brothel in Mexico City." She stopped and shrugged. ’’Much has happened after that. I threw my fate on the mercy of a bad world and became as bad as it is. Anyway, I have been here in this purgatorio for over a year now, waiting for a chance to escape it."

  ’’You think riding with these men is the way out of purgatory?" Shaw asked, lowering his voice.

  ’’Is
this where you offer to show me a better way," she asked in a cynical tone, ’’if I will follow you?"

  ’’I don’t believe in purgatory, but maybe I should," Shaw said, considering it.

  ’’It does not matter whether or not you believe in it," she said with resolve. ’’I find myself stuck in it. I do what I must to get out of it."

  ’’I can think of a lot better ways out than riding with the border raiders," he added, looking into her dark eyes. ’’But I bet there’s none you haven’t already considered. Anyway, I’ve ruined my own life." He shook his head. ’’You would not want to follow me."

  ’’Gracias," she said. A trace of a smile passed across her lips, then went away. ’’Following is what has doomed me to purgatorio."

  Shaw had heard enough; he decided to take a chance and trust her. ’’Maybe taking the lead will get you out," he said as he took a quick glance around toward the open doorway.

  ’’Oh ... ?" She gave him a cool gaze.

  ’’When the federales get here it will be too late to risk riding through the gunfire," Shaw said. ’’But tonight, as soon as the sun goes down, you could cut this man loose, let him and this man make a run for it."

  Juanita looked up at the soldier tied to the post, then back at Shaw. ’’If the raiders caught me doing that they would kill me."

  ’’Not if this one managed to get loose, caught you off guard and knocked you cold," Shaw said.

  They both looked up at Private Martene. He swallowed a knot in his throat. ’’I want to live. We both do," he said, nodding toward the wounded soldier. ’’Tell us what to do and we will do it. When we reach our column I will tell my capitan what you have done for us."

  ’’There’s something else I want you to tell him," Shaw said. ’’Tell him there will be three American lawmen coming from the north. Tell him he needs to keep from killing them if they all run into one another."

  ’’I will tell him, senor," said the young soldier. ’’But it will be hard to keep from killing them."

  ’’I know it will," said Shaw, ’’but he can tell his men to keep watch for them coming out of the north and—"

  ’’That is not what I mean, senor," said the soldier, cutting him off. He looked out the open doorway, then lowered his voice to almost a whisper. ’’I did not tell them, but I must trust you. My column has a pair of German field cannons that will level Zarco to the ground."

  ’’There’s still some villagers here," said Shaw.

  The young soldier shook his head. ’’If they stay here they will be dead villagers." Then he said, ’’But they always know somehow when a battle like this is coming. They leave in the night."

  ’’I hope so." Shaw took a deep breath. ’’Obliged to you for telling us about the cannons," he said. After considering it he said, ’’I’ll just have to let the lawmen know what to expect." He turned to the woman and said, ’’This changes things, ma’am. You need to get out of here too. Cannons don’t care who they kill."

  ’’What about you?" she asked.

  ’’I’ll be back late in the night," Shaw replied. ’’I’m going too. I have to let those lawmen know what’s going on."

  At the southeastern end of Zarco, Shaw stopped Sibott as the big Frenchman hurried along, pulling a small mule cart by hand. Farther along the street lay a pile of other mule carts, buckboards, crates and heavy furniture that had been dragged out and stacked across in the dirt, forming a barricade. Seeing the look of puzzled concern on Shaw’s face, Sibott said, ’’Can you believe this, Shaw?"

  Shaw stared at him, thinking about the field cannon the young soldier had told him about. ’’No, I can’t," he said. Up the street Lying Earl Sunday and Drop the Dog Jones carried a large wooden cabinet they’d pillaged from one of the abandoned adobes whose owners had fled only days after the border raiders’ arrival.

  ’’I’ve never seen being in charge go to anybody’s head as fast as it has Deacon’s," Sibott said, sweat running down his broad cheeks.

  ’’Where is he, Bert?" Shaw asked, not seeing Leeman among the men on the street.

  ’’Ha! He’s in the cantina, out of the evening sun," said Sibott. ’’Where did you think he’d be, out here sweating with the rest of us?"

  ’’Listen to me, Sibott, this is just between you and me," said Shaw. ’’The smartest thing you can do is leave that cart where it’s sitting and get out of here tonight."

  ’’Huh, get out, tonight?" Sibott saw that Shaw knew something he didn’t.

  ’’That’s right, tonight," said Shaw. ’’You’ll have all night to get across the flats and into the hills. By morning nobody here will come looking for you. Fact is, some of them will wish they’d gone with you."

  ’’Look up there, Shaw," said Sibott, gesturing toward the rooflines. In addition to Filo Hewes standing guard atop the cantina, Leeman had posted two other riflemen on the town’s taller roofs, one of those being the church, whose modest steeple stood thirty feet tall. ’’That’s not just to keep him informed who’s riding in, it’s to shoot anybody in the back when they try to leave."

  ’’Those extra riflemen wouldn’t stop you if you really wanted to get out of here tonight, Bert," Shaw said, giving the big Frenchman a guarded but knowing look. ’’I’ve got a feeling things are going to get even worse than you think they are, come morning."

  ’’I wouldn’t be surprised," said Sibott, struggling to get the heavy mule cart started forward again. ’’But I see no way out of here for me."

  ’’Make yourself a way out, Bert," Shaw warned as the man pulled the cart down along the dirt street.

  From a block away, standing in the open doorway of the cantina, Leeman called out, ’’Shaw, over here."

  Shaw walked quickly to the cantina, not about to tell Leeman what he’d just told Sibott. As soon as he’d stopped a few feet from Leeman, Bone stepped out of the cantina, Waite right behind him. ’’Tell me something, Shaw," said Leeman. ’’What was that all about, you acting the way you did, telling everybody you’re on your own side? You’re supposed to be my personal guard."

  ’’That’s right, I am your bodyguard," said Shaw. ’’I didn’t think it was wise to announce it to Hatch and Engles, right then. I figured it best to keep them wondering what side I’m on when it comes down to it." He gave Leeman a cool, steady gaze. ’’If you want to play it different, we will. But I thought it best to keep them wondering."

  ’’Yeah, maybe you think so, Shaw," said Charlie Bone. ’’But the fact is it ain’t your call."

  ’’Nor is it yours, Bone," said Shaw, not about to give an inch. ’’What else you got to say?" he added firmly.

  ’’I’ll tell you what else I’ve got to say." Bone took a step closer, his hand poised near his Colt. ’’It’s one thing to keep everybody else wondering where you stand. But damned if you’re going to treat us that way."

  ’’Hold it, Bone, that’s enough," said Leeman. ’’Shaw knows what he’s doing. So do we. I don’t need my top men shooting each other full of holes when we’ve got a battle coming our way."

  Bone eased down, but kept a cold stare at Shaw. ’’Whatever you say, Deacon," he said calmly. To Shaw he said, ’’I’m watching you, Fast Larry."

  ’’We both are," said Blackie Waite.

  ’’That’s good to know, I’ll keep it in mind," Shaw said, not letting up, his gaze still fixed on them.

  ’’Come morning I want the four of us sticking close together," Leeman cut in, changing the subject. ’’We can win this fight, but it’s going to start getting bloody here on the streets."

  Shaw thought about the cannons that would start most likely at dawn or shortly before. Leeman had no idea how bloody it was going to get. ’’What about the few people still staying here?" he asked.

  ’’What about them?" Leeman asked, as if he hadn’t given any thought to the villagers.

  ’’I figure we’d want to run them out of here, just in case any of them might side with the army," said Shaw, hoping he could
get the people out of the cannon fire. He knew the federales would be merciless toward the villagers when it came to killing a band of outlaws who’d ambushed two of their men and still held two captive.

  ’’To hell with the villagers, don’t worry about them," Leeman chuckled.

  ’’We’re not Quakers, we’re gunmen," said Waite, having no regard for the people of Zarco.

  Bone said, ’’If they stick their noses into a gunfight, they ought to expect to get them shot off."

  Leeman looked all around, then said, ’’The main thing is, soon as we finish with these soldiers, I want us all four to turn our guns on Hatch and Sonny Engles. We’re going to shoot them to pieces."

  Bone looked at Shaw. ’’That is, provided you’re not worried about them too."

  ’’I’ll try not to worry much about anything, Bone," Shaw said, ’’so long as I don’t have you behind my back."

  ’’That’s enough out of you two," said Leeman. He turned to Shaw and said, ’’Tomorrow morning we all four stick together, but tonight I’m changing guards at midnight, putting Bone and Waite on the roofs just in case these soldiers feel scrappy enough to try anything in the dark. Take yourself a pot of coffee, some tequila, whatever you need. But find a good spot and stay there till daylight."

  Shaw gave him a look of displeasure, but he thought this could work out well for the woman and the soldiers getting away. ’’All right," he said, ’’if that’s where you need me."

  ’’Hey, Fast Larry, we all have to do our part," Bone cut in, speaking harshly to him.

  Shaw just stared at him.

  Chapter 23

  After dark, the men still drank at the cantina. But the atmosphere was not as rowdy, the drinking not as heavy. No music rang out from the open doors, Shaw noticed, watching the empty street from a battered wooden chair out front, his rifle lying across his lap. Hatch and Sonny had made themselves scarce, staying away from the cantina, separating themselves from Leeman, Bone and Waite.