Moving to the edge of the woodpile while he still had fire to cover him, Sam leaned out and snapped a shot at whoever was on the west side of the bunkhouse. Mike laid down several shots at the ones on the east side. Sam thought he heard a yelp back there after his second shot. Possibly just a flesh wound, he thought, but they were down a man with a possible injury to a second man, and their positions were more exposed than before. Sam stopped firing and dropped back down to the cover of the woodpile. Mike dropped down as before behind the woodpile on the right. There was total silence in contrast to the flurry of shots just a moment ago.
Nobody moved for quite some time. Sam felt pretty sure they had pulled out to think things over or to regroup, but risking his neck by standing up was not a good idea. Jim and Kate had a better view from the porch, and he would rely on them. Finally, after maybe a half hour had passed, Jim pulled himself to a standing position on the porch and waved at the others. “I could see them pull back to the trees” Jim said. “They rode off maybe ten minutes ago. I guess they’re gone by now.” The others stood and moved cautiously back to join the Randolphs on the porch. “How many” asked Sam? “Three of them left” answered Jim. “One was a Carson brother. Not sure about the other. You killed Red.” Sam nodded and sat down on the edge of the porch. He would wait for dark before he thought about burying Red. He had no intention of getting himself killed in order to do it any sooner.
Kate sat next to her father. Once in a while her gaze strayed to Red, lying near the tree at the far side of the bunkhouse. Things swirled around in her mind. She remembered how Chance had shot Yates Carson that day in the street in Cimarron. She also remembered how Red was one of those who would have left her for dead in the upper pasture. So much had happened in so little time. She wondered if Chance would be back, and what they would have to do, with or without him.
Eventually Mike cleared his throat and moved to Kate’s old position at the corner of the porch. “I’ll keep watch here if you want to go inside and plan things out from here” he said. The others nodded. Kate helped Jim to his feet, and Sam followed father and daughter inside to the table in the dining room. They had won this round, but none of them really thought it was over.
An hour or so later Sam came out to the porch and knelt down beside Mike’s position on the porch. Both scanned the yard and lower pasture as they talked, but things seemed to have gotten quiet for the time being. “Got to ask you to head back to town tonight” Sam began. Mike glanced over and nodded. “We need some more ammo from the back room at the saloon. Grab some sleep where you can. Stay at the saloon if you feel safe. In the morning, we need you to talk to Sheriff Stanton first thing, fill him in on what’s happened here. Be sure he knows it was a sneak attack from the woods. He’s a little too trusting for my taste… didn’t really take any action after Jim was shot…” Sam lapsed into silence. When Mike got up and went to saddle his horse, Sam slipped into his spot on the porch and continued watching the yard.
I kept Fred reined in close behind me, moving slowly to avoid noise and constantly watching my back trail. I was headed for Denver and needed to work my way east and north. Escaping notice was a lot more important than speed, of course, and I had an uneasy feeling as I rode. They hadn’t found my cave, but if they came across the spot where I’d been working the cliff walls for the gold they would be watching for me. I was intently aware of any bird calls I was hearing, wondering constantly if they were real or whether they could be signals for an ambush around any corner.
As it drew on toward mid-afternoon I crossed a shallow stream cutting through the trail and pulled over to water the horses and refill my canteen. I dipped my bandana in the stream and wiped my forehead, keeping a wary eye on the cliffs ahead of me. It all felt like ambush country to me. That started my mind down a path that might be useful. If they were aware of my presence and were setting an ambush for me, where would it be? They would catch me in the open and fire from cover, that was for sure. If they couldn’t take me out immediately, they would kill the horses, strand me, and take me at their leisure. I rode a little farther and began thinking about a place to make camp for the night. I had to re-cross the Sangre de Cristo pass, and I didn’t want to get there before mid-morning.
I wondered if they knew I had to go back over the Sangre de Cristo pass. That one stopped me in my tracks. I reined Archie in and surveyed by back trail while I thought about that. They might not be following me at all. They may already have an ambush set up in front of me if they’d seen me start moving. I kicked Archie in the ribs lightly and started moving again. The saddle leather creaked softly and there was a muffled clip-clop sound from the horse’s hooves. I thought about a couple areas I’d come through after crossing the Sangre de Cristo pass and knew they made a great site for an ambush. There were rock falls in front of the cliffs in a couple places that would give them all the cover they would need. I wondered briefly if I should take a different path to Denver, but dismissed that idea pretty much immediately. Better to deal with a path I knew for sure could get me there than to wander and possibly become lost in the mountains.
I made my decision abruptly when I came to a clearing I could use for a campsite. I would get an early start tomorrow and use as much caution as possible as I approached the pass. The one advantage I had was to stay one jump ahead of them, if that was possible. I made a light supper without fire and watched as a half-moon climbed in the sky. I could feel a growing chill in the air. It would be more passable than it had on my original trip, because the weather had warmed considerably in the few weeks I’d been mining. After a while I wrapped myself in my blankets and lay down. The warmth was comforting, and eventually I dropped off to sleep.
Morning found me huddled in my coat and working my way very slowly toward the Sangre de Cristo pass. Every bird call was an occasion for me to stop and study my surroundings. The path elevated gradually, and the snow was still visible farther up the trail. I swung around a bend and came to the first rock fall area I’d remembered from passing this way before. I stopped the horses and looked at what lay in front of me. On my side of the trail, there was a niche in the rock wall that ran fairly deeply back into the granite cliff. I thought absently that it would shelter the horses if need be. Across the trail lay several huge boulders that had come down the cliffside at some point in the past. To ride past those boulders was a death warrant if anybody with hostile intentions lay concealed behind them.
Well, it was still early. I could stop for a while to look this over and still have time to get over the pass today. I dismounted and led Archie and Fred into the niche in the rock wall. I pulled my Winchester and three boxes of ammunition from the saddlebag. I draped my canteen around my neck and eased back around the niche to study the scene in front of me. It was all very quiet, not that it meant anything. I looked around for any signs of wildlife. It would have been reassuring to see a deer feeding or any other animal moving about undisturbed, but I saw nothing. I studied the boulders across the path. As I watched, a bird flew across the path and glided down toward the boulder in the middle. Instead of landing on the boulder, he pulled up abruptly and flew away. I had a good idea what that meant.
Holding the Winchester in my right hand, I sprinted for the two large boulders in front of me. I caught a blur of movement as I dove the last few yards for the cover of the rocks. Bullets whined above my head. I squirmed along the base of the boulders to the edge, put the barrel of the Winchester around the corner and fired a couple shots in their direction, just to keep them honest.
I studied the area around me. Nothing was moving out there at the moment. I looked for any place they could be hiding, other than behind the rocks, but saw nothing else to give them cover. Far to my right, partially hidden in a small stand of trees, were three ponies. Well, at least I had a pretty good idea of how many of them I was dealing with.
I assessed my situation. Between the two boulders was a crevice I could use to shield the barrel of the Winchester. It gave me a limit
ed view to my front and to my right. I felt pretty confident I could keep them at bay in that direction, assuming there were no more than three of them. To my left was a little more worrisome. The angle of the boulders gave me less vision to that side. It was possible they could flank me if I wasn’t careful. I took a small swig of water and kept a watch to my front, and as best I could, to the left flank. Time dragged by. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry. The sun rose overhead and I took off my coat. I had enough water to last me for a couple days, but I was more concerned about what would happen if I was still here when evening fell. I checked to my front one more time then crawled over to look at my left flank. Had I seen movement out there or was it my imagination?
Chapter Fourteen
I studied the ground to my left, measuring whether it offered sufficient cover for one of them to mount a surprise attack into my position. It looked possible, with a couple rocks large enough to afford cover. There was a pretty fair amount of open ground to cross from the closest rock to where I lay. If there was some covering fire from the front, a young buck looking to get a name for bravery might give it a try.
I had a pretty good supply of ammunition, but not enough to shoot without a good target. I could afford to lay down steady fire to my front just to keep them off me. I glanced briefly to my left and saw no movement. I crawled back to the center of my position and studied what lay in front of me. There were three very large boulders across the trail to my front. There was plenty of cover for three or four men behind them. On the other side of those boulders lay a craggy rock face. The boulders had no doubt at some time fallen from that wall behind them. As I studied that rock face and the boulders, an idea came to me.
The rock face behind the boulders was an uneven surface. There were overhangs and niches throughout the face, creating a lot of angles. The boulders in front were unevenly spaced on the ground in front. That area was a semi-enclosed space, roughly circular, with rock surfaces all around. I checked my ammunition for the Winchester and mentally evaluated how many rounds I would need for what I had in mind. I decided it was enough. I would rather take the offensive than to lie here and wait for them to overwhelm me. I crawled back to my left and fired one shot, the bullet glancing off the rock closest to me. Then I crawled back to the center and sighted through the niche between the boulders.
It seemed to me that the boulder out to my front and slightly left of the other two was the most exposed position for what I had in mind. There were a number of overhangs creating downward surface angles behind that boulder, and it lay slightly in front of the other two. I could only hope that one of the Apaches was behind there. I came slowly to my knees, still shielded from the positions to my right, and laid down a steady fire off the rocks and overhangs behind the boulder to my left. The whining sounds of my bullets ricocheting off the rock told me I was making it pretty uncomfortable for anybody who might be behind there. I levered the Winchester as fast as I could, and counted ten shots as I riddled the rock face in front of me. After the tenth shot an Apache broke from behind the boulder, blood streaming from his cheek and shoulder as he charged my position. I took him down with one shot, then ran to my left.
The young buck had come off the ground behind the rocks, his ululating cry ringing off the cliffs as he charged me. I shot him dead center, then levered another shot to finish him.
I turned and ran back to the center of my position, looking to my right, afraid there was another one who had reached these boulders during the melee. Movement caught my eye, and I saw the third one headed for the horses. I sighted carefully and brought him down just before he reached the horses. I couldn’t have him getting away to bring back more Apaches.
I turned and leaned back against the boulder behind me, sliding down the face of it as I moved down to sit on the ground. I sat for just a moment, letting my heartbeat come back to normal. I pulled the open box of Winchester ammunition over to me and reloaded. I turned and looked through the niche, seeing no movement and hearing nothing. It was an odd silence after the intense nonstop shooting of the last couple minutes. All three of the Apaches I’d shot lay motionless.
I wondered if there had only been three. The three horses tied up in the trees made me think so, but I’d always been a careful man and the last couple hours hadn’t done anything to make me feel reckless. Eventually, though, I knew there was nothing to do but to come out and check behind the other boulders. There was nothing I could think of that was likely to fool anybody who might still be over there, and I had to get moving soon if I were going to get to safety.
I came out to my left, holding low and sprinting to the smaller rocks to my left. There was no one behind them. The one I’d shot lay in front of the closest rock, and there was no point in checking to see if he was dead. My second shot had hit him squarely in the forehead. I circled around to get a view of the larger boulders which had shielded the other two and saw that there was no one there. The first Apache I’d shot after setting up the ricochet fire wouldn’t be going anywhere. I moved over to the third one, lying in front of the horses. I confirmed that he was dead also, then checked the horses. They had a small amount of food and water, which I took. I came back to the boulders and saw that they’d had three old rifles between them. I broke them over the rocks and threw them behind the bushes lining the trail.
Finally I was ready to move. I went back to where I’d left Archie and Fred and tossed the leather water pouches over Fred. The small amount of dried meat I’d taken from the Apache horses I stuffed into my saddlebags, and then mounted up on Archie. It was time to get on down the road to Denver and see if I could find Tim in his new mining supply store.
Sheriff Stanton watched as Mike mounted up outside the office and headed back down the trail toward the Randolph ranch. He sat down heavily in his office chair and stared at the wall as he considered his options. He could no longer ignore the activity of the Carson brothers, that much was obvious. He had hoped to keep trouble away from Cimarron and the surrounding ranches by just moving the troublemakers on down the road, but that wasn’t an option any more. He considered where he might get some help before going out to see the Carson brothers. His instincts told him that if he showed up with armed deputies it would immediately turn into a shooting war. Was it too late to avoid that?
He considered the words of warning that old Sam had conveyed to him through Mike. Sam had advised him not to trust them at all and that there was no chance they would let him take them prisoner or allow him to move them out of the area. That went against the grain. Up until now he had been able to keep the peace without gunfire. Maybe it was time to think about hanging up the badge and moving on… eventually he came to his decision, and left the office, locking the door behind him.
Jack Carson sat in the living room of the ranch house and glared at his brother Carson and at Santos. They sat preoccupied with their whiskey glasses, not interested in stirring up Jack’s famous temper any further. “How many were there?” Jack demanded. “Three or four?” Caleb glanced up briefly and shrugged. “I’m guessing four. There was gunfire from a couple places on the porch and from the woodpile in front of the bunkhouse. Mebbe some fire from another woodpile farther over.” He avoided his brother’s eyes and concentrated on his whiskey glass again. Santos said nothing as he adjusted the bandage around his right arm. He was in a foul mood himself, but he also avoided eye contact.
Jack got up and circled the room angrily. “So, we thought we had four against a wounded old man, a girl, and maybe an old saloon keeper.” He kicked a chair out of his way and swore viciously. “And now we’re down to three against four. And at least a couple of them can shoot pretty good.” He dropped back into his chair and paid attention to his own drink for a while. After a while he slammed the glass back down to the table and turned his attention back to Caleb. “We still got a cousin or two over in Mora, right?” Caleb shrugged. “We got one cousin that I know of but he might have a couple friends. He had a couple partners last I knew.”
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Jack stood and dug his hand into his pockets. He produced a few gold coins which he slammed onto the table, then shoved them across the table to Caleb. “Offer them fifty bucks apiece to come out here and give us some help. I don’t like the numbers anymore. Tell them we might need some help getting rid of some problems. Make sure they know what we’re talking about. Get back here as soon as you can.” Caleb nodded, stood, and put the money in his pocket. He left without a word, saddled his horse and rode out. Jack Carson sat back down and refilled his glass.
The sheriff, acting on a whim, stopped off at the restaurant in town and went in to order a piece of pie and some coffee. He stirred the coffee absently with his spoon and looked out the window at the main street of Cimarron. The town had grown during the six years he’d been sheriff and he’d never had a situation as serious as this one. He thought again about getting some help before he went to see the Carsons. It would probably take a few days to get any help from the army, assuming they had the manpower to spare. He couldn’t think of anyone in town whom he could deputize. Jim Randolph and Sam were the first two names he could think of, and they were already involved. Ironic, he thought, that the other name that came to mind was Chance Reilly. It was too late to get his help now.
He left some change on the table to pay for his food, went out and re-mounted and started down the trail to the Carson ranch. He knew it had been the O’Reilly ranch before he’d arrived in town, and there were whispers around town about how the Carsons had come to take possession. That was before his time and he preferred to let sleeping dogs lie. He drew his collar up around his neck a little more firmly as he felt a little bite from the north wind. It wouldn’t be long before the leaves would start to change color, he reflected. That was his favorite time of the year.
Chance Reilly Page 11