The Lost Outlaw

by Paul Fraser Collard

  ‘Got it.’ Hennessey nodded. ‘What’s the plan, Jack?’

  ‘The plan.’ Jack gave a half-smile. ‘We hold fast. If they attack, we drive them back. If we do that enough times, hopefully they’ll fuck off and leave us alone.’

  ‘That’s not much of a plan.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s all I’ve got.’

  ‘It’s better than trying to outride ’em, at least.’ Hennessey made the remark with a wry smile of his own.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘You think it’ll work?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. There’s fuck all we can do about it now, though.’ Jack looked around him. The men were starting work on the loopholes as he had ordered, but all now paused to listen to the conversation. ‘But you know what they say.’ He spoke louder, making sure every man could hear him.

  ‘What’s that?’ Hennessey played along.

  ‘You shouldn’t have signed up if you can’t take a joke.’ Jack delivered the old British army phrase with as wide a grin as he could summon.

  He was rewarded with a few grunts of acknowledgement. Nothing more.

  ‘You know what to do?’ He spoke more quietly, addressing the question to Hennessey alone.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Good.’

  Orders delivered, Jack turned his attention to the men working on the loopholes. The hacienda echoed to the sound of them scraping at the stone with their knives. It was hard going. The thick walls were resisting the men’s efforts, but already the first slits were starting to emerge.

  The sound of movement carried from outside. Keen to know what was going on, he walked to the doorway. The men had done a fine job of barricading it, but there were still enough gaps for him to see through.

  The main body of Mexicans had arrived. The men on foot trudged in, taking up positions far from the hacienda. To Jack’s eye, they did not look like much. They were a ragtag band, but every man was armed, many now with shiny new Enfield rifles. He remembered the volume of fire that had massacred the men of the wagon train. The bandoleros might look like a collection of scarecrows, but they could most definitely shoot.

  As they came past, he searched their ranks for a glimpse of Santiago himself. He did not find the bandoleros’ leader, but he did see two faces he recognised. Brannigan and Kat rode in towards the rear of the gaggle of foot soldiers. He did not know what that meant. Had Brannigan promised to give Santiago back a share of the gold held in the strongbox to make use of the bandoleros once again, or was their enigmatic leader happy to dispatch his men to rid himself of the last of Dawson’s troopers? Whichever it was, one thing was certain. Jack and his men were horribly outnumbered. He tried to make a rough tally, but the Ángeles were spreading out as they encircled the hacienda, making the process close to impossible. Whatever deal had been struck, he reckoned Brannigan had well over a hundred of Santiago’s bandoleros at his command.

  Jack had just eleven men.

  ‘Jack!’ One of the men stationed on the remains of the upper storey hollered for his attention.

  ‘What do you see?’ Jack had been sitting on the ground as he finished reloading his Remington. Around him, the rest of the men were still working on the loopholes. They had been at it for a good thirty minutes now, but they had precious few to show for their efforts. The walls were just too thick.

  ‘It’s that woman of Brannigan’s.’ The man’s tone was filled with contempt.

  ‘What’s she doing?’

  ‘She’s walking right this way. Got herself a white flag.’

  Jack forced himself to his feet, pushing the Remington into his holster. He had no idea what Kat was hoping to achieve by coming forward to parley.

  ‘You want me to shoot her?’ the Texan asked. He did not seem overly concerned at the notion of killing a woman.

  ‘No.’ Jack gave the single-word reply, then turned to the closest pair of Texans. ‘You two. Give me a bunk-up.’

  The two men dropped their knives, then linked arms so they formed a cradle. Jack pushed his right boot into their grasp and reached for the edge of the upper floor as they boosted him. With their help, he grasped the broken wood and hauled himself up.

  ‘Bugger,’ he hissed. Sharp splinters cut into his stomach as he scrambled over the lip.

  ‘She’s stopped.’ The Texan who had called out to him gave him the update as he found his footing.

  Jack walked carefully around the edge of the room, where the floor was still attached to the walls, until he came to one of the small windows. He saw Kat immediately. She was standing about twenty yards away from the front of the hacienda on the far side of the track, holding a square of white fabric that he reckoned was probably a handkerchief.

  The sight of her brought him up short. As ever, she was dressed as a man, with her long hair pulled back and hidden under a wide-brimmed hat. She wore her Remington on one hip and the Volcanic on the other.

  ‘What do you want?’ He shouted across to her.

  It took her a moment to work out where he was. ‘Can I come closer? I can barely hear you,’ she shouted up to him.

  ‘All right.’ Jack studied the scene carefully, looking for anyone else on the move in case Kat was merely there to provide a diversion. He saw nothing and no one.

  As she approached, he felt the touch of the warm breeze washing across his face and recalled the attraction he had felt to this woman. ‘That’s close enough.’ He stopped her when she was halfway across the rutted surface of the track. Any attraction had died, buried beneath a mountain of bodies.

  ‘Are you going to shoot me down?’ Kat looked up at his window as she spoke.

  She was close enough now for Jack to see every detail of her face. He searched her expression, trying to read whatever emotion was displayed there. He failed, her half-smile, half-grimace as unintelligible as ever. But he knew one thing. It would be easy to kill her. To his left, Hennessey and another of the Texans were aiming their carbines towards her, tracking her movements. It would take a single word to order them to fire. Then there would be one fewer enemy to worry about.

  ‘I might.’ He shouted the honest answer. ‘Depends on what you want.’

  ‘I’ve got a message for you.’

  ‘No shit.’ He watched her carefully. Any desire he had once felt for her meant nothing. Not now. His duty was to the eleven men sharing his fate. He would do whatever it took to keep even one of them alive. ‘Where’s Brannigan?’

  ‘He’s here.’

  ‘But he sent you to do his dirty work.’ Jack was scathing.

  ‘I volunteered.’

  ‘Then you must be bottle-head stupid.’

  ‘I must be. But I want to give you a chance to avoid more bloodshed.’

  ‘What the fuck do you mean?’ Jack sensed a trap.

  ‘If you give yourself and the specie up, then those men in there can go free.’ Kat raised her voice so that every man in the hacienda would hear her.

  The offer took him by surprise. He had not known what to expect, but this was something he could not have foreseen.

  ‘Did you hear me? Brannigan just wants you and the specie, Jack. If you come out, those boys in there get to go home.’

  Jack’s mind was racing. He assessed the offer. It made sense, to his mind at least. He was the only man there who had been a witness to all Brannigan had done. Without him to verify the tale, he doubted anyone would care what the Texans said. Brannigan would be free to disappear with the strongbox.

  ‘I heard you,’ he shouted. He glanced at the Texans next to him. All three were looking at him, eyes bright white against dirty faces.

  He understood now why Kat had been sent. Of all the people there, she had the best chance of getting Jack to listen. He had listened. And now he contemplated the idea of giving himself up.

  He was no fool. He had no doubt that this time Brannigan would not spare him. He remembered the men they had seen by the side of the trail, the ones buried alive with just their heads left free. Such a fate would surely
be his if he did as Kat demanded and gave himself up. The notion sent a wave of sickness deep into his gut, and he felt a twist of fear surge through his bowels as he contemplated being left to endure such a horrific death. It was not hard to conjure up the image of the insects and animals starting to feast on his flesh even whilst he still lived. He could not imagine the pure horror of that moment.

  Yet he had known the answer he would give an instant after Kat had made the offer. He had no choice. Not with his men’s lives at stake.

  ‘So be it.’ He closed his eyes as he whispered the words, a moment’s terror threatening to steal his courage. He sucked it down, opening his eyes and staring at the woman who demanded his life. Then he shouted down his reply.

  ‘I’ll do it. I’ll give myself up.’

  ‘No.’ Hennessey snapped the word an instant after Jack had replied.

  ‘It’s not your bloody decision,’ Jack fired back.

  ‘They’ll let you go.’

  ‘Are you really stupid enough to believe that line of horseshit?’ Hennessey’s reaction was scathing.

  Jack scowled. He did not take kindly to being insulted. ‘They just want me. I saw what Brannigan did. I saw all of it.’

  ‘You’ve got one mighty high opinion of yourself there, Jack.’ Hennessey gave a lopsided grin. ‘And you’re a goddam fool.’

  ‘I’m the only witness to all that bastard did.’ Jack felt something close to anger starting to build. He had been willing to sacrifice himself for Hennessey and his men. He had not expected to be lauded as some great hero for doing so, but he had not expected to be insulted either.

  ‘And yet you trust him now?’ Hennessey poured a bucketful of scorn on his thinking. ‘You think that if you walk out there, they’ll let the rest of us mosey on down that track?’

  ‘Yes.’ He gave the only answer he could.

  Hennessey shook his head. ‘Like I said, you’re a goddam fool.’

  ‘What’s going on up there?’ Kat shouted. She would have heard Jack’s reply. ‘What the hell are you playing at, Jack?’

  He looked Hennessey straight in the eye. ‘You don’t trust them?’ He felt the fear shift. A part of him knew the corporal was right. This was just another one of Kat’s games. She played so many, games where she did not share the rules, and where there could only be one winner.

  ‘I don’t trust a single one of them lying sons of bitches. We’ve been fighting them varmints for years now. We know them like they know us.’ Hennessey paused to shake his head ruefully. ‘It’s a lie, Jack. The moment we walk out there, we’re all dead men.’

  Jack looked at the other two men crouched on the upper level with them. He could see their fear; he had been around soldiers long enough to recognise it with ease. But he saw something else. He saw their determination. He felt relief settle in his gut. Hennessey and his men were giving him the chance to at least go down fighting.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked.

  ‘Goddammit, Jack, tell that lying bitch to go to hell.’ Hennessey offered another of his half-smiles as the men around him growled their assent, one even going so far as to offer a shouted ‘Amen’.

  Jack held Hennessey’s gaze for a moment longer, searching for a hint of doubt. He found not one shred of it there. Hennessey knew what he was saying, what he was committing the Texans to.

  ‘What’s going on up there?’ Kat demanded.

  Jack turned his gaze back to the outside. He had to blink, the bright sunlight stinging eyes that had become accustomed to the gloom of the hacienda. Kat had not moved.

  ‘I’ve got a message for Brannigan,’ he called, his voice clear and strong.

  ‘Are you not coming out, Jack?’ Kat sensed something had changed. ‘If you stay in there, he’ll kill you. He’ll kill you all.’ She raised her voice to make sure every man in the hacienda could hear her. ‘You go on and give yourself up now, give those boys a chance.’

  ‘Horseshit!’ It was Hennessey who replied. His men heard him and laughed, their scorn for the offer echoing off the walls of the building.

  ‘You heard the man,’ Jack barked. He was done talking. ‘Tell Brannigan I thank him for his kind offer, but that I decline.’

  ‘You’re making a mistake there, Jack.’ Kat would not let it go so easily. ‘It don’t matter what those folk up there say. It’s your decision. You’re going to get them all killed.’

  ‘I’m going to count to ten. If you’re still standing there when I’m done, we’ll shoot you where you stand.’ Jack kept his tone loud, clear and even. He wanted no misunderstanding.

  Kat did not move. ‘You’re killing them, Jack. Same as if you slit their throats yourself.’

  ‘One!’

  She glanced down at the dirt around her boots, then up at the small window. Jack watched her. He could not read her expression. Was there regret there, some hint of sadness at the thought of his death? Or was there just stung pride at her failure? He did not know which it was. He did not want to know.

  ‘Two.’

  ‘You’re a goddam fool, Jack Lark.’ Kat held her position for a moment longer. Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

  Jack did not bother to continue with the count. The decision was made. Brannigan was denied. And the twelve men in the hacienda knew the fate that awaited them.

  Jack took his time loading the shotgun he had fired at the Ángeles. He kept the men hacking at the walls, their blunted knives gouging away at the stone in an attempt to add to the half-dozen loopholes they had managed to make so far. It was a brutally hard task, but at least it kept them busy.

  As he rammed home a fresh set of cartridges, he wondered what else he could do to defend the hacienda. He had three men on the upper level, all armed with at least two carbines along with their own revolvers. The shotguns he would keep downstairs, where he would hold them back for any rush on the doorway. The eight men with him were still working in pairs, and he would keep them like that for the time being, two per wall, the loopholes they had created the only way they could see and shoot at any Ángeles working their way around the building. He would position himself at the doorway. There were gaps in the makeshift barricade that allowed him to see out towards the front of the hacienda. It was also the spot where Brannigan would most likely direct the first assault. When that came, he would summon one of each pair from the loopholes to join him at the barricade, the five of them all armed with shotguns. Any attackers attempting to break in would be greeted with a close-range salvo.

  He ran through the simple plan in his head. There was nothing else he could do, he was sure of that. His only regret was that he had not had the time to return to the shed at the side of the hacienda where he had been held captive, and where he was sure his sword still lay, discarded and half hidden. It would be nice to end his fighting days with a blade in one hand and a revolver in the other.

  ‘Jack!’ Hennessey called down from his station on the upper level.

  ‘What do you see?’ Jack snapped the last shotgun closed, then got to his feet.

  ‘Some old fella just turned up.’

  ‘Took him long enough.’ Jack had wondered if the bandoleros’ leader would arrive to supervise the destruction of the Confederate patrol. He did not flatter himself that it had anything to do with the men themselves. Rather it would be for the strongbox that was safely stashed away on the remains of the upper level. He wondered what deal Brannigan had struck with Santiago for its return; what portion of its contents was being paid to ensure the death of one Englishman and eleven Texans.

  ‘You know who that old fellow is, Hennessey?’

  ‘Nope. But they sure do.’ Hennessey sounded impressed. ‘Every one of them is on their goddam feet.’

  ‘That’s Santiago.’

  ‘Are you shitting me? That old son of a bitch is Santiago?’ Hennessey could not hide the disbelief.

  ‘As he lives and breathes,’ Jack confirmed, just as the first cheers reached his ears, the bandoleros whooping and h
ollering to celebrate their leader’s arrival. A few even fired shots, the sound echoing off the walls of the hacienda and ringing in the ears of the twelve men waiting inside. It spoke of what was to come.

  Jack could just about make out a single voice hectoring the crowd. The words were barely audible inside the hacienda, yet they were clearly having an effect, and the cheering grew louder, the shots more frequent.

  There was a final great roar, the sound building to a crescendo that battered against the walls.

  ‘Here they come!’ Hennessey shouted down the warning. Santiago had wasted no time in setting his men to the task.

  The simple statement resonated in Jack’s mind. The end was close now. ‘How many?’

  ‘All of them.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Everywhere.’ Hennessey’s tone was calm, as if he were reporting on the progression of clouds across the sky rather than on the movement of the men who would likely kill them all.

  Jack glanced around the room. Every man looked back at him, the loopholes forgotten.

  ‘That’s enough.’ He spoke softly. There was no need to shout. ‘Take your positions.’

  The men obeyed. Knives were dropped or put back in sheaths attached to belts. Revolvers and shotguns were readied.

  ‘Hold your fire up there. Wait until the bastards are right outside.’ He gave the last instructions to Hennessey. ‘Make every shot count.’

  He turned. The men were ready. It was the time when some leaders would offer up a speech assuring their men of victory, no matter the odds. Yet Jack did not have the words for that. He could speak of his gratitude, acknowledging the Texans’ willingness to fight to the last. But anything he could say would just sound trite. They had made their decision to stay, for their own reasons. He could speak of his pride and his pleasure at fighting alongside such men as these. Yet he knew the Texans well enough by now to be certain they would not care for such mawkish sentiment. They were hard men from a hard land. There was nothing he could say that would make one jot of difference.

  So he said nothing. He took up position at the barricaded doorway and readied himself for what was to come.