Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 32

  Highwaymen

  The wagon train crested the ridge. There before them was the San Joaquin Valley, stretching as far as the eye could see. Off in the distance one could just make out the city of Sacramento. For many the view of their future home was more than they could bear. You could hear shouts ringing out up and down the train as each wagon crested the ridge. Many of the women began to cry tears of joy and relief. The journey had been hard and mothers had to remain strong throughout for their children. Now the load was lifting off of their shoulders and they felt free to rejoice. You could hear Florence and Sis begin to holler even before they moved into position to see the valley.

  But the journey was still not over, even though they could see the valley from this height they knew it would still take a few more days before they reached the city and Fort Sutter. Ray listened to all the cheering and celebrating while he rode point with John, Larry and Quincy.

  “How many will be goin’ on with us to Pueblo de Los Angeles?” asked Larry.

  “Oh I figure maybe bout’ thirty or forty wagons,” replied Quincy as he scratched his chin.

  “We should be able to make much better time than we have been, don’t you think, Quincy?”

  “Well, you’d think so. We can’t drive those wagons much faster but fewer wagons do mean fewer stops for repairs. You boys need to head on out and make sure our path is clear. I’d hate to have anythin’ happen this close to so many people’s final destination,” said Quincy.

  “Consider us gone, Quincy,” Ray said as he pushed Horse on down the trail with John and Larry following.

  “This sure is some pretty country,” smiled Larry.

  John pointed out across the land ahead, “And big! Why that valley is flat as a table top and runs as far as the eye can see.”

  “Well I been noticin’ that it’s been getting’ hotter with every mile we ride down this slope,” Ray said as he used his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his hatband.

  They rode for several hours until they came upon a good size stream. Dismounting from their horses they leaned down and drank deeply from the cool mountain water that ran down to the valley floor. Walking his horse towards the shade of a huge stretching branch, Larry smiled. “These oaks look mighty invitin’ and I’m ready to put away some of those vittles we brought along.” He was already starting to pull the jerked beef and biscuits out of his saddlebags.

  “Not a bad idea, Larry,” said John, also grabbing his food and leading his mount to the shade.

  “Well, hell, it looks like I’m out voted so I might as well join ya,” Ray said with a smile.

  They found comfortable spots under the trees and leaned back against the large trunks. There was no talking while they enjoyed the food prepared for them by the wonderful ladies of the wagon train. With full stomachs, the sound of the cool stream splashing by, the warm air around their bodies, and a cool breeze that touched their faces, they were quite content.

  “Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, we need to mount up before the train comes along and finds us all fast asleep,” Ray warned as he rose from his spot and dusted off the dirt from his pants.

  “I think you’re right, Ray,” said Larry as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

  As Ray moved over to mount up he picked up the faint smell of tobacco smoke. Horse’s ears perked up at the same time, but it was too late to react.

  “Boys, hold steady on those mounts of yours. We’ve got you in our sights. Now just reach down and unbuckle those gun belts real slow and easy like. Let them drop to the ground.” Ray, Larry and John all quietly obliged. “That’s it. Now take those rifles out of the scaffolds and drop them softly on to the ground.” They did as they were told; cussing themselves for dropping their guard and acting like damn tinhorns.

  “We wouldn’t want them to go off accidentally killin’ any one, now would we?” came the menacing voice from behind the rocks shaded by the very trees they were lounging under.

  “Okay boys, you’ve been doin’ real good so far, don’t mess this up by doin’ somethin’ stupid. Now, each of you just ease down off of those horses and just go back to the pleasant spots you were occupyin’ before you got up.”

  Keeping their hands where they could be seen, Ray, Larry and John dismounted and walked back over to the shade of the oak trees.

  “Okay Caleb, you and your brother go down there and fetch back those guns and horses. Do it quick, now!” ordered the voice.

  Two tall skinny-framed men in their older teens came running down the slope and grabbed the empty reins of the horses and the guns lying on the ground. Once everything was collected, the wranglers stumbled all the way back to their hidden location, disappearing behind some rocks.

  “Boys, I hope there’s no bad feelins. Ya see me and my boys been walkin’ for days and without a firearm we ain’t been eating none too good either. I figure what’s fair is fair. It’s your turn to walk and our turn to ride,” laughed the voice from behind the rocks.

  “No guns!” yelled Larry.

  “Hold steady young fella’. We didn’t have no guns when we jumped ya, but we sure got some now,” warned the voice. “Sorry about deceivin’ you boys like that. Now you just sit still for a while and don’t try and follow. We see ya comin’ up our back trail we’ll have to send lead your way. Nothin’ personal, you understand.”

  “Oh of course not, nothin’ personal,” cussed Larry.

  At the sound of the horses’ hooves running over gravel and rocks the three jumped up.

  “Damn it!” cussed John. “Not only did they get the jump on us like we were three tinhorns, but they did it with no guns. Damn it to hell!”

  “Okay, okay, first off, let’s be forgettin’ that part and leave it that they got the jump on us, that’s it,” Ray instructed.

  All agreed that was the best way to handle the situation.

  “What do we do now?” asked Larry.

  “All we can do for right now is start walkin’ back towards the wagons,” said Ray.

  “Toward the wagons, are you jokin’? We need to get our stuff back before any one finds out how we got taken!”

  “I agree. It ain’t gonna be pleasant, but it doesn’t make much sense trackin’ those boys on foot when we’re unarmed and they’re ridin’ our horses,” Ray warned.

  “Coop is right, Larry. All we’d do is get ourselves shot,” agreed John.

  “I figure what we’ll do is go back to the wagons and get some guns and fresh mounts and pick up their trail. There’s a chance they don’t know we’re with a wagon train. So they may not be travelin’ too fast, figurin’ we’re on foot. We’ll get our horses, guns and the rest of our stuff back along with our pride.”

  With that, Ray turned and headed up the slope to meet the wagons. After a few hours of steady walking, climbing, falling, cussing, and stumbling they met up with the front wagon. The story of them losing all their gear ran faster down the line of wagons than they could walk. People were already laughing as they walked by.

  “You boys thought that was bad, here comes Quincy,” Ray said as he hailed him over to them.

  “What the hell happened to you boys? Everything up ahead is okay, ain’t it?” coughed Quincy from the dust he had thrown up from his horses hooves.

  “Yeah, it’s fine all the way to the next good water,” Ray said.

  “Well then, where the hell are your mounts? And you know you shouldn’t be out there without a firearm?”

  “Yeah, Quincy, we know. The thing of it is, some highwaymen just jumped us and took our horses and guns. We need to get geared up so we can track 'em and get our stuff back,” said John.

  “Well, you know where the horses are and you’ll find your pick of guns and rifles in the supply wagon. Are you gonna need any help?” asked Quincy.

  “No, No, we can handle it!” Ray said, not wanting a crowd along with them when the thieves started talking about what they had done to them.

  “Okay.
We’ll meet you at the stream tonight. Any trouble just fire off three shots and we’ll come a runnin’.”

  The three of them were armed and back in the saddle in less than a half hour. They didn’t want to hear any more jokes at their expense and figured the sooner they were on the thieves’ trail the better.

  It didn’t take long. The thieves were leaving a trail a blind man could follow.

  “Just like you said Coop, they must not be expecting us to be following so quickly,” said John.

  “Let’s go cautiously boys. They may be tryin’ to set up a trap for us,” said Ray.

  The three rode slowly between oak trees and an occasional tall pine along the meandering southbound trail. The route made a turn up the slope and narrowed to allow only one horse to pass at a time. Large pines quickly walled in the sides of the trail, their branches reaching out and swatting at their faces.

  “If we don’t find them soon, we’ll lose ‘em in the dark,” said John.

  “I agree, but I think we’re close. No talkin’. Be ready to grab your horse’s snout if he tries to return another horses sound.”

  The trail began to widen enough for two horses to ride abreast. As John rode along side Ray, they both smelled the wood smoke. Ray raised his hand, signaling for the other two to dismount. Tying the horses to a branch they drew out their .44’s and headed into the trees. The smoke was getting stronger and they now could hear the sound of laughter. Moving in slowly they started to make out the glow of a campfire with several men sitting around it.

  “There’s those no good thievin’ skunks! Let me go in shootin’,” begged Larry.

  “No, they didn’t harm us when they took our gear - I figure we won’t harm them getting it back, okay?” asked Ray.

  “Sounds okay to me,” said John. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Simple. We come in from the west, east and north with guns drawn. It’ll be up to them if there ends up bein’ any shootin’,” Ray whispered.

  “Let’s get our stuff back,” said Larry as he moved off to the right with John moving off to the left.

  Ray could just make out John and Larry’s silhouettes from across the campsite. Figuring there wasn’t going to be an invitation, Ray decided to start the dance by stepping out of the brush directly behind one of the men. The men sitting across from him recognized Ray right away.

  “Okay boys, we’ve been doin’ some walkin’; now it’s your turn again. Hope there ain’t no hard feelins’. Don’t reach for those guns. There wasn’t any bloodshed when you robbed us and we’d like to keep it that way,” Ray commanded as he held his .44 steady on his target’s midsection. Larry and John walked up behind Caleb and his brother and took back their weapons.

  “Well, I guess this makes us even boys,” said the voice, “No real harm done. You got your gear back and we just go back to walkin’.” The older man pulled his gun from under his shirt. The brothers both yelled for him to stop but it was too late. He was already bringing the gun to bear on John. Ray’s .44 bucked in his hand without even a thought. All he knew was that he had to put that stranger down to keep him from putting John down. Ray’s target turned and pivoted on his back foot, collapsing next to the fire.

  “Pa!” one brother yelled.

  “Hold up right there boys,” Ray yelled with his .44 still on them. He leaned down to check out their pa. “He’ll be okay, but we need to get him to a doctor.”

  “The nearest doc is down in Sacramento,” cried Caleb. He’ll bleed to death before we can get him there!”

  “No, we don’t have to go clear to Sacramento. There’s a doctor with our wagon train. We’ll have him there in about an hour. Let’s get mounted up. John, Larry, why don’t you tie these boys hands to their saddle horns so they don’t try anything stupid.”

  With the boys securely tied to their horses, the riders laid their Pa over a saddle and headed back down the trail to meet the wagons.

  “If he dies it’s on your heads!” cried Caleb.

  “If he dies it’s his own damn fault for pullin’ that piece,” replied Larry.

  The three redeemed riders rode into the front of the wagon train. Quincy stopped the procession to allow the boys to escort in the family of thieves.

  “Quincy, we got ‘em!” yelled Larry as he pulled up his horse.

  Quincy looked to a couple outriders, “Take them back to the supply wagon and chain them up.

  “What about my Pa, this son of a bitch shot him. I think he’s dyin’,” cried Caleb.

  “He’s not gonna die, but Quincy, he does need the doc,” said Ray.

  “Someone go get the doc,” called Quincy.

  “I’m right here,” waved the doc as he rushed to the injured man with a small black medical bag in hand.

  Ray helped the doctor getting the man down from the back of the horse to the ground where he could examine him.

  “How is he doc?” whispered Ray.

  “He’ll be alright. It’s just a shoulder wound. Looks like the bullet went clean through.”

  “All right. Couple of you men pick him up and chain him with the others. Doc can patch him up there. I want to get movin’,” ordered Quincy.