Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (14 page)

“Sí,”
said El Lobo, “but they follow us.”

“Let them,” Wes said. “We'll do some bushwhacking of our own.”

Before train time, Wes and El Lobo visited the mercantile, buying supplies they hoped would see them to Nevada. They bought extra ammunition for their Colts and Winchesters, as well. They came back to Dr. Hamilton's.

“We're obliged to you and Ida, Doc,” said Wes. “I reckon we owe a considerable bill, and we're ready to pay.”

“You owe nothing,” Dr. Hamilton said. “Foster Hagerman arranged for the railroad to pay it.”

Wes and El Lobo went to the livery and paid their bill. Claiming their horses, they led them to the railroad depot. Their saddles and Winchesters were still in Hagerman's office, and they found both Hagerman and Harley waiting for them.

“I wish I was goin' with you,” said Harley.

“I'm glad you're not,” Wes said, “because we may not come out of this alive.”

“It's been good seeing you again,” said Hagerman, “even if it has been under such dire circumstances. Is there anything more we can do for you?”

“Just one thing,” Wes said. “There's a water stop right after the train enters eastern Colorado. We aim to leave the train there, to avoid a possible fight in Boulder. It might be helpful if you will tell the conductor, so he can arrange to unload our horses.”

“I'll take care of it,” said Hagerman.

Hugh Elkins had already been at the depot when Wes and El Lobo arrived with their horses. Elkins hurried to the telegraph office, where he quickly sent a telegram. Consisting of a single word, it read: “Today.” The westbound rumbled into Dodge on time. Elkins held back until Wes and El Lobo had climbed aboard one of the passenger coaches, then entered behind them. Wes and El Lobo took seats facing one another, and Empty settled down between them. With twin blasts of the locomotive's whistle, it jerked the coaches into motion and left Dodge behind.

“How long we ride?” El Lobo asked.

“About two and a half hours,” said Wes.

Elkins had taken a seat as near Wes and El Lobo as he dared, appearing to sleep, his hat tilted over his eyes. He silently cursed the clattering of the train over coupling joints, for try as he might, he was unable to hear their brief conversation. He took satisfaction in the knowledge that armed men would be awaiting the arrival of the train in Boulder. When the train lurched to a stop, someone spoke to the conductor.

“We're taking on water,” the conductor said. “We'll be here only a few minutes.”

The train man paused long enough to speak to Wes and El Lobo, and to Elkins' total surprise, his prey got up and left the coach. After they had gone, Elkins got up and went to the coach's observation platform, where he could see the locomotive taking on water. He could also see, coupled behind the tender, a boxcar from which two horses were led. The animals were quickly saddled, and even before the train pulled out, Elkins watched in silent frustration as Wes and El Lobo rode southwest. Distance quickly swallowed them, and as the conductor came back through, Elkins stopped him.

“How much farther to Boulder?”

“More than three hundred miles,” the conductor replied. “Maybe seven hours, if there's no loose rails or washouts.”

Wes and El Lobo continued riding southwest, stopping only to rest the horses.

“I figure the bunch that's waitin' for us in Boulder will ride due south, when they find out we've outfoxed them,” Wes said. “Somewhere, we'll cross their trail or they'll cross ours.”

“Per‘ap we wait,” said El Lobo. “They ride on, we cross their trail.”

“One problem with that,” Wes said. “Once they leave Boulder, they may not travel in a bunch. With enough riders, they can fan out all over southern Colorado. We can follow the Arkansas River almost due west for maybe a hundred miles.”

“How far to Nevada?” El Lobo asked.

“I don't know,” said Wes. “We'll have to cross all of Utah Territory. I'm beginning to wonder if we shouldn't have boarded a sailing ship in New Orleans and come in from the Pacific coast.”

“No like ships. No like big water.”

“I'm not all that comfortable with them myself,” Wes said. “It'd be mighty easy for somebody to bash in our heads and drop us overboard.”

 

When the westbound rolled into Boulder, Elkins was the first to step down from one of the passenger coaches. He found Mull waiting.

“Get the men together,” Elkins said. “There's been a change in plans. They've given us the slip.”

Within the hour, Mull had the men assembled where they had met before, near the railroad depot.

“They had their horses aboard a boxcar,” said Elkins, “and they left the train at a water stop in eastern Colorado. They're riding west, bound for Nevada.”

“Well, hell,” one of the gunmen said, “that's clear the other side of Utah Territory. We could be on the trail for months.”

“I realize that,” Elkins said. “I've paid each of you five hundred dollars, and I am prepared to pay that much more, in addition to the promised reward. You are to pursue them and gun them down, and there's no time to waste. They have a seven-hour head start.”

“We're ready to ride,” said Mull, “soon as we see the color of your coin.”

“Very well,” Elkins said, “and when you're ready to collect the reward, you'll find me at the High Plains Hotel. Of course, I will expect proof.”

“What kind of proof you got in mind?” Mull asked.

“Their bodies slung across their saddles,” said Elkins.

“Like hell,” one of the gunmen said. “You expect us to tote two dead bodies all the way across Utah Territory?”

“No,” Elkins said. “I expect you to kill them before they leave Colorado. That is, if they don't get you first.”

“You let us worry about that,” said Mull.

Twenty men rode south, armed with Winchesters and sixguns. Elkins, recalling the two armed men he had seen on the train, had his doubts.

 

 

Wes and El Lobo made their camp on the south bank of the Arkansas, extinguishing their small cook fire well before dark. Empty, free of trains, steamboats, and cities, was prowling in the brush.

“If there was a bunch meetin' the train in Boulder,” Wes said, “they could catch up to us sometime tomorrow.”

“Per‘ap they ride all night,” said El Lobo.

“I doubt that,” Wes said. “They won't know how far we've traveled, and they can't risk missing our trail.”

“We not know where they are,” said El Lobo, “no can plan ambush.”

“Tomorrow,” Wes said, “Empty can range well ahead of us. He can warn us in time.”

Mull and his companions camped on the Platte River, south of Denver. On the outskirts of town they had stopped at a saloon, and after supper they broke out the bottles.

“Go easy on the booze,” Mull warned. “We ride at first light.”

“Denver should be almost due north,” said Wes. “That means if we're havin' company, they'll soon be close enough for Empty to warn us. I think we'll continue west, following the Arkansas.”

Wes and El Lobo again made their camp early, putting out their fire well before dark. After supper, Empty disappeared for a while. Eventually there was a light breeze from the northwest, and El Lobo got to his feet.

“They come,” El Lobo said. “Make fire.”

“Yes,” said Wes. “I smell smoke too. I expect Empty's nosing around their camp, and when he returns we'll have a look.”

Less than an hour later, Empty returned, and there was little doubt he had made a discovery. Growling softly, he trotted north a ways and waited, proof that he expected to be followed.

“We'll leave the horses here and go afoot,” Wes said. “Bring your Winchester, just in case. We might want to show the varmints just what they can expect from us.”

Wes and El Lobo moved slowly, and Empty never got so far ahead they couldn't see him in the starlight. The smell of smoke grew stronger, and eventually they could see a pinpoint of light in the distance.

“They're almighty confident,” Wes said quietly.

Finally they topped a rise and could see the camp below. It was near a spring, and the gunmen were grouped around the fire, partaking of the whiskey they had brought with them.

“We kill many,” said El Lobo.

“We could,” Wes said, “but it would be cold-blooded murder. Besides, we can't really be sure they're after us. But there's a way we can find out. Let's get back to our horses.”

Clearly El Lobo didn't agree, but he accepted the decision Wes had made. When they reached their horses, Wes spoke.

“We'll saddle up and ride west, leaving a trail they can't miss. Come first light, we'll double back and arrange an ambush. If they come after us, we'll gun them down.”

“Bueno,”
said El Lobo.

Saddling their horses, they rode more than ten miles. It was far enough to establish for a certainty they were being followed, and a sufficient distance for them to double back and set up an ambush.

“Now,” Wes said, “we'll settle down and get what sleep we can. Come first light, we'll swing south a couple of miles and parallel our back trail.”

“They come,” said El Lobo confidently.

“I think you're right,” Wes said, “but I'll feel better when we know for sure. I can't think of any other reason for twenty men being camped out and armed.”

 

Wes and El Lobo were saddling their horses as the first gray of approaching dawn crept into the eastern sky. They rode out, headed east, Empty ranging on ahead. They still followed the Arkansas, but were more than a mile south of the river. The trail they had left along the southern bank the night before would be obvious to the gunmen who followed. They had ridden only a mile or two when from a rise they could see an abundant upthrust of stone well within rifle range of the river's south bank.

“Perfect for an ambush,” Wes said. “Those stones stand high enough to protect us and our horses.”

Leaving their horses behind the tallest upthrusts, they quickly found crevices in the rock that not only afforded them cover, but allowed perfect shooting well within range of their Winchesters. They hadn't long to wait. Empty growled, warning them of approaching riders well before they rode into view.

“Hold off until they're plenty close,” said Wes. “We must cut down as many of them as we can. Otherwise, they can flank us left and right, catching us in a cross fire.”

“Per‘ap they try,” El Lobo said. “You shoot right, I shoot left.”

The ambush was as near perfect as two men could devise. When the riders eventually came into view, some appeared to doze in their saddles. Or perhaps they were partially hung over from the whiskey they had consumed the night before. Wes and El Lobo fired simultaneously, and it took a moment for the reality of the attack to register on the riders. Quickly, Wes and El Lobo emptied half a dozen saddles, and when the riders tried to rush the fortress, they met a withering fire that discouraged flanking their attackers. Wheeling their horses, the survivors galloped along their back trail. Many clung to saddle horns, seriously wounded.

“We ride after them?” El Lobo asked.

“No,” said Wes. “There's still enough of them to set up an ambush of their own. We'll ride on, watching our back trail. If they're foolish enough to follow, we'll give them another dose of what they just had.”

When it became obvious the bushwhackers didn't intend to pursue them, Mull reined up. The condition of his force was not encouraging. Of the thirteen men who remained, six had wounds that might prove fatal. Three others bled profusely from arm and leg wounds.

“From now on,” Mull said, “I reckon we'll be earning our money.”

“Maybe you'll be earnin' yours,” said one of the wounded men. “Me, I'm ridin' back to the nearest town where there's a doc.”

“Hell,” Mull said, “Most of you ain't hit that hard.”

“Hard enough to die from infection,” said another of the gunmen. “I'm finished.”

There was quick agreement from the other wounded men, and before Mull could argue further, they kicked their horses into a lope, back the way they had come. The four men who remained regarded Mull with doubtful eyes.

“I'm goin' on,” Mull said. “There's five of us, and that don't cut the reward so thin. We get four thousand each.”

“If we live to collect it,” said one of the gunmen. “We just rode into an ambush that cost us fifteen men.”

“Elkins warned us this pair of
pistoleros
was dangerous,” Mull said, “and we can blame ourselves for underestimatin' them. We won't do that again.”

“We're listenin‘,” said one of the men. “What you got in mind?”

“They have an edge as long as we're behind them,” Mull said, “so we're gonna change that. We're goin' to get ahead and do some bushwhackin' of our own. Doan, I want you and Wells to ride half a dozen miles to the north and then back to the west. Baker, you and Olson will ride south and then west. You won't be followin' a trail, so you can ride all night. When you figure you've covered fifty miles, I want all of you to come together along the Arkansas and set up an ambush.”

“I don't think so,” said Olson sourly. “While we're riskin' our hides, where'll you be?”