Bloody Trail (10 page)

Caught between gunfire from three directions,
what Danby had thought would be a deadly trap for his pursuers soon
turned into a rout for his men instead. Within the span of ten
minutes, almost all of the drygulchers were dead or mortally
wounded.

Bill spotted Wes Hammond as Danby’s
second-in-command climbed onto his horse, attempting to flee. He
pulled Jed’s gun from his waistband.

“
Hammond!” he shouted. “Hold it
right there!”

Hammond whirled his horse to face
Bill.

“
Tolliver! Thought I killed you
back in Texas. How many lives you got, you son of a
bitch?”

He pulled the trigger of his gun a
split-second before Bill. Hammond’s slug slammed into Bill’s
stomach. Fighting to stay in the saddle, Bill shot twice, both
slugs from Jed’s gun hitting Hammond in the belly. Hammond slumped
over his horse’s neck, then fell to the dirt. Bill pressed a hand
to his middle, jackknifed, and slid off Cholla’s back. He staggered
up to Hammond, kicked the gun out of his hand, stumbled back to
Cholla, and collapsed.

****

Derrick McCain was the one who found Bill. He
spotted Cholla, who was standing over his rider, occasionally
nuzzling Bill’s face. Derrick spoke soothingly to the horse as he
approached.

“
Easy, horse. It’s all right, bud.
I’m gonna check on your friend, okay?”

Cholla snorted, and backed away.

“
Torrance?” Derrick asked. “You
still—”

Bill’s eyes flickered open.

“
Yeah, I’m still here. So far,
anyway. Don’t reckon for long, though.”

“
You just wait until I get the doc
before you decide that, y’ hear?” Derrick answered.

“
All right,” Bill said. “Check
Hammond first, however. Make sure he’s done for.”

“
You got Wes Hammond?”

“
Right over there.”

“
I’ll see to him. Be right
back.”

Derrick walked to where Hammond lay, crimson
spreading over his shirtfront. Hammond’s breath came in gasping
wheezes, the death rattle deep in his chest.

“
Hammond,” Derrick
said.

“
You’re still alive too?” Hammond
asked, in disbelief. “Can’t—understand it. Well, at least I got—one
of you bastards. Put a bullet in Tolliver’s gut. He’s not gonna
cheat death—this time. Reckon he’ll join me in hell
right—quick.”

“
Tolliver?” Derrick repeated. “You
mean Torrance, don’t you? Bill Torrance.”

“
Hell, mebbe that’s the name he’s
usin’ now, but his real name’s Ben—Tolliver,” Hammond answered. “He
was a Texas Ranger, durin’ the War. Later I heard—he became a town
marshal, down in—Blanco.”

“
Torrance? You
certain?”

“
Certain as you’re standin’ there,
watchin’ me die,” Hammond answered. “You want proof? I sliced
Tolliver’s belly open with a saber when—he and some other Rangers
came on us. He still managed to put a bullet—in my shoulder.
Couldn’t finish him off, but figured he was dead—anyway. Could’ve
knocked me over with—a feather when I spotted him standin’ next to
you back in—Wolf Creek. Knew you, didn’t recognize Tolliver’s face,
but I sure knew it was him when I saw that scar—across his belly.
I’m the one give it to him.”

Hammond coughed, choking on the blood welling
in his throat.

“
Well, I’ll be damned,” Derrick
muttered. “Torrance, a Texas Ranger. That explains a lot.
Hammond—”

His last words to the outlaw were left unsaid.
Hammond had breathed his last. Derrick headed back to Bill’s
side.

“
Well?” Bill said.

"Hammond's dead," Derrick answered. "The
others are too. Charley tried to take a prisoner or two, but they
went down hard—I reckon they saw a big black Seminole with a
hatchet and figured givin' up wasn't the wise choice."

“
Danby?”

“
Not here. Like you figured, he
kept on ridin’, along with most of his men. We’ll start after ‘em
in the mornin’. Gonna spend the night here and lick our
wounds.”

Derrick paused before continuing.

“
Torrance, gotta ask you
somethin’. Before he died, Hammond claimed your real name is
Tolliver, Ben Tolliver, and that you were a Texas Ranger. Any truth
to that?”

“
Guess there’s no reason to
lie—about that now. Always figured it would come out—sooner or
later,” Bill answered. “Yeah, my real name’s—Tolliver.”

“
Knew you were more than you
claimed when I saw how you handled yourself durin’ that ambush,”
Derrick said. “You mind if I tell Satterlee about you?”

“
Yeah, go ahead. He’ll find out
soon enough—anyway. Besides, like I said, I’m gut-shot, doubt
I’ll—pull through. Rather have my real name—on my
tombstone.”

“
Don’t put yourself in the ground
yet,” Derrick advised. “You’re one tough hombre.”

“
McCain, help me up, will
ya?”

“
Are you loco,
Torrance?”

“
Just do what I ask, please?
Gotta—check on my horse.”

“
All right.”

Derrick slid his hands under Bill’s shoulders
and helped him to his feet. Bill stumbled over to Cholla. He took
the horse’s muzzle in his hands.

“
You all right, pard?” he asked
the horse. Cholla whinnied, his nostrils flaring in excitement and
flecked with blood.

“
Guess you’re not hurt—too bad,”
Bill said. “Lemme just get some ointment—and clean out that bullet
slash.”

“
I can handle that,” Derrick
offered.

“
No offense, Derrick, but I’d
rather patch up Cholla my ownself,” Bill replied. He dug a tin of
salve and piece of cloth from his saddlebags, then cleaned out and
dressed the wound on Cholla’s hip. Once that was finished, Bill
attempted to pull himself into the saddle.

“
Torrance, just what the hell do
you think you’re doin’?” Derrick demanded.

“
Goin’ after the rest—of the
bastards who killed—Ann,” Bill answered.

“
You ain’t goin’ anywhere,”
Derrick ordered. “It’s one thing to let you doctor a horse, but you
sure as hell ain’t ridin’ him noplace. You’re gonna wait right here
while I fetch Doc Munro. Be back quick as I can.”

“
Reckon I don’t have a choice,”
Bill conceded, when he swayed dizzily, and slumped against Cholla’s
side. “Better lie back down.”

“
Now you’re talkin’ sense,”
Derrick answered. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Once Bill was again stretched out on his back,
Derrick looked at him and grinned.

“
Reckon we’re all obliged to you.
You did a good job here—Tex.”

Bill managed a weak smile.

“
So’d you—Reb.”

****

Bill lay thinking while he awaited Derrick’s
return.

Reckon it’s true what they say about
everything comin’ around eventually. I gut-shot Pete, my best
friend, and swore I’d never take up a gun again. Move to Kansas,
take a new name, and live in relative quiet, until Wes Hammond
turns up in the same town where I settled. So, I forget everythin’
I vowed, dig out my guns, and join a posse to go after Hammond.
Now, just like Pete, I’m lyin’ here with a bullet in my own belly.
Man can’t cheat fate, I guess.

Bill’s morbid thoughts were interrupted by
Derrick’s return. Accompanying him were Doctor Munro and Sheriff
Satterlee. Munro knelt at Bill’s side and opened his
bag.

“
I’m sorry I didn’t get here
sooner, Bill, but I was tending to Deputy Zachary. He’s been pretty
severely wounded, not to downplay the seriousness of your
injuries,” Munro apologized.

“
No need to apologize, or to
worry—about me, Doc,” Bill answered. “Doubt there’s anythin’ you
can do for me.”

“
You let me be the judge of that,”
Munro ordered. He opened Bill’s shirt, to reveal the oozing bullet
hole in his stomach.

“
See, Doc,” Bill muttered. “I’m
gut-shot. Done for.”

“
What did I just tell you,
Torrance? Your wound is not quite as serious as you imagine. The
bullet went into your stomach, but then out between two of your
ribs. I’m going to do what I can here, then once we’re back in Wolf
Creek I’ll be able to work on you more.”

Munro reached into his bag and removed a brown
bottle.

“
Wait a minute, before you start,”
Bill requested. “Sheriff, how bad did—Danby’s men hit
us?”

“
Not as bad as it could have been,
thanks to your spottin’ that ambush,” Satterlee answered. “Reckon
if I wasn’t so thick-headed, and had listened to you, none of this
would have happened.”

“
You’ve got no way of knowing
that, Sheriff,” Derrick said.

“
He’s right, Sheriff,” Bill
agreed.

“
Appreciate that, but it still
don’t make things better,” Satterlee replied. “We lost four men,
five if you count Mack Haskins. Pennycuff, Salem, Myers, and
Montgomery are dead. Zachary may not make it, and Spotted Owl took
a slug through his leg, so he’ll be laid up awhile. Billy Below
took a bullet across his ribs. Few inches to the right and he’d
have been Billy Six Feet Below.”

“
Sheriff, it hurts too much to
laugh,” Bill moaned.

“
I guess,” Satterlee conceded.
“Anyway, Robert Gallagher really showed his salt. Lost his
spectacles, but that didn’t slow him down none. He waited until one
of those renegades was right on top of him, then shoved his gun
right into the bastard’s belly and pulled the trigger. Blew that
son of a bitch’s guts clean out through his backbone. Reckon we all
sold Gallagher short.”

Satterlee didn’t mention exactly how Joe
Montgomery had died. He saw no point in that. He hesitated before
bringing up his next question.

“
Bill, Derrick here tells us
Torrance ain’t your real name. Says Wes Hammond claimed you’re
really an hombre name of Ben Tolliver, a former Texas Ranger and
marshal. Says you and Hammond crossed paths before.”

Bill sighed deeply.

“
Like I told McCain, there’s no
point—denyin’ it. Yeah, Tolliver’s my real name, and I was a
Ranger. That’s where I ran into Hammond—the first time. He’s the
one who put this scar—across my belly. Always wondered whether
we’d—meet up again.”

“
Why’d you quit law work? Seems
like you’re a natural for it,”

Satterlee pressed.

“
That’s a real long story,
Sheriff,” Bill began.

“
No time for long stories,” Munro
interrupted. “Let me work on Bill, G.W., so I can get back to treat
the less severely wounded.”

He lifted the bottle and uncorked
it.

“
Bill, this is going to hurt like
the devil,” he warned. “However, with any luck, it will keep your
wounds from festering until we reach town.”

“
Stop jawin’ and just get at it,
Doc,” Bill urged.

“
All right.”

Munro poured a generous amount of the stinging
liquid into the hole in Bill’s stomach, allowing more to run over
the exit wound in his side. Bill screamed at the burning, almost
unbearable pain.

“
I’m sorry I had to do that, but
it was unavoidable,” Munro apologized. “Now, I’m going to bandage
your wounds, as tightly as possible to stanch the bleeding. Once
I’m done, if you feel strong enough, keep one of your hands pressed
to your stomach. That will also help slow the blood’s
flow.”

By the time Munro finished, Bill had passed
out.

“
He dead, Doc?” Derrick
asked.

“
No, merely unconscious. That’s
just as well,” Munro explained.

“
You really think you can save
Torrance, or I guess I should say Tolliver, Doc?” Satterlee
questioned. “Rarely hear of a gut-shot man survivin’.”

“
On the contrary, Sheriff,” Munro
answered. “In my experience as a battlefield surgeon, I have seen
more than one man, with abdominal injuries worse than Bill’s,
survive.”

“
You mean Ben, Doc,” Derrick broke
in.

Munro flashed a tired smile. “Yes, you’re
absolutely right, Derrick. I imagine we’ll have to start using his
correct name. Anyway, it will be a challenge; however, I dote on
challenges, so I am confident I can save Ben’s life. In fact, just
this morning, Charley Blackfeather gave me some ingredients for a
new potion he states is fine medicine for ulcers. I plan on trying
his concoction on Ben, here. An ulcer is a hole, very similar to
some bullet wounds.”

Munro didn’t reveal the “ingredients” Charley
had provided were green frogs. Most white men scoffed at Indian or
Chinese medicines, while he was willing to try almost any cure.
Munro’s travels had demonstrated to him the white race didn’t hold
a monopoly on effective medications.

“
Doc, if you’re finished here,
we’d best get back to the others,” Satterlee ordered.

“
Indeed. We’ll just need to get
Ben to our camp.”

“
You and the sheriff go ahead,
Doc,” Derrick said. “I’ll take care of Ben.”