Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (20 page)

“Like we figured,” said Wes. “There's two of ‘em, and we'll have to take care of them today. By tonight, they'll be close enough to circle around and get ahead of us. We have to take them while we still have the advantage.”

“
Sí
,” El Lobo said. “We make ambush.”

“It may not be so easy,” said Wes. “If they're watching close, they'll see where I rode to the river to watch our back trail. That could warn them we know they're following.”

They began looking for a likely place for an ambush. Far down the trail Baker and Olson had reached the place where Wes had ridden away to scout the back trail.

“One of ‘em rode back to the river,” Baker said.

“Yeah,” said Olson. “He was likely lookin' for high ground so's he could watch their back trail. I reckon they suspect they're bein' followed.”

“We got to get ahead of them, or we're dead meat,” Baker said.

“We was goin' to do that tonight,” said Olson. “Now we can't wait. They'll be holed up with their Winchesters, waitin' for us, if we ride any closer.”

“I ain't ridin' any closer in daylight,” Baker said.

“Neither am I,” said Olson. “While they're holed up waitin' for us to ride into range of their Winchesters, we'll ride half a dozen miles north and circle ‘em. Hell, we can ride all night, if we have to.”

“That makes more sense than anything you've ever come up with,” Baker said. “There's no way we can take them as long as they're ahead of us.”

Leaving the trail, they rode north, across the river. Not until they believed they were safely beyond the ambush did they again ride west.

 

“They don't come,” said El Lobo after an hour's wait.

“They're coming,” Wes said, “but not directly toward us. They're riding to the north or to the south of us, planning to get ahead sometime during the night. They know we have an edge as long as we're ahead of them. They aim to take the advantage.”

“How we stop them?”

“We play a long shot,” said Wes. “I'm gambling they're riding north. Once they're far enough away, they'll ride west, trying to get ahead of us. But we're going to ride north, with Empty scouting ahead. I think we'll cross their trail. When we do, we'll follow until they ride back to the south. From there, we continue riding west until we're ahead of them again. We then double back to the south and come in behind them, wherever they're holed up waiting to bushwhack us.”

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

“No matter,” said Wes. “Sooner or later, they'll have to ride back toward the river, because that's the way we should be traveling. If we have to ride all night, we'll still get ahead of them, and we'll have Empty to tell us where they're holed up. We must end this threat of ambush, once and for all.”

“Bueno,”
El Lobo said. “We ride.”

They rode across the river, heading north.

Wes and El Lobo, riding north, soon came upon the trail of Baker and Olson as they rode west.

“We'll just follow them until they ride south, toward the river,” Wes said. “Then we'll ride a ways farther and ride south, coming out ahead of them. With Empty guiding us, we should be able to get the drop.”

“We kill?”

“I don't know,” said Wes. “I reckon they deserve it, but we'll see how much fight's left in them when they're looking down the muzzle of our guns.”

They followed the trail of Baker and Olson for more than twenty miles before the trail again turned south, toward the river.

“They figure they're ahead of us,” Wes said. “We'll ride on a ways then we'll ride south, which will put us ahead of them.”

When Wes and El Lobo rode south, they paused long enough for Empty to learn of their change in direction. They then rode back to the river, crossing to the south bank.

“Now we'll ride east until we find where they're holed up,” said Wes.

Taking their time, they allowed Empty to range well ahead of them, following the Rio Chama River eastward. After three or four miles, Empty doubled back, his way of telling them he had made an important discovery.

“We'll leave the horses here,” Wes said.

They proceeded along the river on foot, carrying their Winchesters, keeping to cover. Eventually, Empty led them slightly south of the river, where there was a stand of trees. From there they could see a bend in the river which was obscured by heavy brush. Behind the cover—where they couldn't be seen by westbound riders—were two horses.

“They're in the brush,” said Wes. “We'll begin by leaving them afoot. Take the horses, while I cover you.”

“
Sí
,” El Lobo said.

Keeping to cover, El Lobo began his advance, and so carefully did he move, after just a short distance, Wes could no longer see him. He reached the horses without discovery and was leading them away when one of the animals nickered.

“By God,” Baker snarled, “somebody's after the horses.”

Realizing he had been discovered, El Lobo leaped to the saddle of one of the horses, and leading the other, made a run for it. Baker and Olson cut loose with their Winchesters and lead sang all around El Lobo. But Wes Stone began returning fire, and although Baker and Olson were concealed in the brush, their cover was no defense against the deadly fire from a Winchester. El Lobo was soon out of range and the firing from the brush ceased.

“You men in the brush,” Wes shouted, “we know who you are and we know why you are here. Come out of there with your hands above your heads.”

“Why don't you come in after us?” Olson shouted defiantly.

“We don't have to,” Wes shouted back. “We'll just ride on, taking your horses. Unless you want to come after them.”

There was no answer as Baker and Olson looked at one another. Baker spoke.

“Damn them. Without horses, we're in trouble. We can't follow them, and it must be near two hundred miles back to Santa Fe.”

“We ain't goin' back to Santa Fe,” Olson snarled. “We got our Winchesters.”

“Yeah,” said Baker, “and but for the loads in our shell belts and what's left in the magazines, we're without ammunition. The rest is in our saddlebags, along with all the gold we took at Hawktown.”

“That's why we're goin' on,” Olson said. “It's more than we can afford to lose. Maybe we can strike a deal with them. Return our horses, and we'll ride back to Santa Fe.”

Olson laughed, but without humor.

“You with our horses,” Baker shouted. “Return them, and we'll ride back to Santa Fe.”

“No,” Wes replied. “You left Santa Fe, coming after us with killing on your minds. We know who sent you, and why. Now I reckon the reward you were promised won't be quite what you expected. It's a long ways to Santa Fe. You'd better get started.”

“You bastards,” Olson bawled, “we sent a telegram before we rode out. You'll pay.”

“Maybe,” said Wes, “but that won't help you.”

“At least let us keep our saddlebags,” Baker pleaded.

“No,” said Wes. “All you get is the chance to walk away from here with your lives, and if you follow us afoot, you lose. If we meet again, both of you will be shot dead without warning. Now get the hell out of here, before we yield to temptation, move in a little closer, and fill that thicket with lead.”

“We're goin‘,” Olson shouted, “but you ain't seen the last of us.”

“
Malo
,” said El Lobo. “We no kill.”

“Wouldn't be worth the risk,” Wes said. “If we moved within better range, they might nail one of us with a lucky shot. Leaving them afoot will do them more damage than killing them. Let's take their horses and go.”

Mounting the horses, Wes and El Lobo rode back to their own animals. Leading the two captured horses, they again rode west along Rio Chama. Bitterly, Baker and Olson watched them ride away.

“Come on,” Olson said. “Let's go after them.”

“Go after them yourself,” said Baker wearily. “I know when I'm beat.”

Slowly he began walking eastward, along the Rio Chama. Cursing under his breath, Olson followed.

 

“I don't expect them to follow afoot,” Wes said, “but if they should, we'll put enough miles behind us so they'll never catch up.”

El Lobo said nothing, for he didn't always agree with Wes, and this was one of those times. He chose to kill without mercy those who had tried to kill him.

Utah Territory was a desolate country shot full of deep arroyos and towering peaks of stone. The banks of the Colorado were steep and the current swift. Wes and El Lobo rode for many miles before finding banks low enough and water shallow enough to cross. There, long after leaving Baker and Olson afoot, they took the time to go through the saddlebags belonging to the killers.

“Oro,”
said El Lobo as Wes emptied the gold onto a blanket. “What we do with it?”

“Keep it, I reckon,” Wes said. “Some of it—what—ever they were paid to come after us—is Golden Dragon's counterfeit. But if Quince was right—if there was more than twenty thousand in Hawk's strongbox—then most of it's real. We took our thirty-five hundred, and with Quince and Kincer taking a thousand each, there must be maybe fifteen thousand in good gold coin. It being outlaw spoils, we're as entitled to it as anybody.”

A day's ride northwest of the Colorado, near sundown, the wind turned cold and far beyond the mountains looming ahead there were heavy gray clouds gathering.

“A storm's building,” Wes said. “We'd better start looking for cover.”

But it was late in the day, and the country through which they rode offered little in the way of shelter. Suddenly El Lobo reined up, keening the wind like his namesake.

“Smoke,” said Wes, catching the scent. “Maybe there'll be somebody who can offer us shelter.”

“
Sí
,” El Lobo said. “We pay.”

“Only if we have to,” said Wes. “We don't know anything about this country. It may be a haven for outlaws, and them knowing we have gold could be the death of us.”

In a shallow valley protected by craggy peaks to the north, they came within sight of a log house. Not only was it uncommonly large, there was an enormous barn, as well.

“Come on,” Wes said. “Maybe they'll allow us to wait out the storm in that barn.”

The house had two chimneys and the smoke trailing from them was whipped away by the rising wind. Sleet was already salting the ground white when Wes and El Lobo rode up to the porch that extended all the way across the front of the log structure. El Lobo and Wes dismounted, ground-hitching their four horses. They were barely up the porch steps when the door was flung open and they were confronted by a bearded man nearly seven feet tall. He had shaggy hair down to his shoulders, and suspenders over a red flannel shirt supported dark homespun trousers. Heavy boots were laced almost to the knee.

“Come in, strangers,” he shouted, “and warm your bones.”

Empty, choosing not to enter the strange dwelling, remained with the horses. El Lobo and Wes stepped into a long hall, following their host into a massive room with a crackling log fire. Two younger men, heavy-muscled and bearded, stood with their backs to the fire. Wes and El Lobo said nothing and their host spoke in a booming voice.

“I'm Jubal Ely, and these whelps is my sons, Seth and Luke.”

“I'm Wes Stone,” Wes replied, “and my
amigo
is Palo Elfego. We're hoping you will allow us and our horses to wait out the storm in your barn. If you can spare some hay for our horses, we'll pay.”

“If you kin pay fer hay fer the horses, you kin pay fer stayin' in the barn,” Seth said sullenly.

“Boy,” Jubal bawled, “where's yer manners? You gents take yer horses to the barn an' come on back to the house. My women will have supper ready.”

“We're obliged,” said Wes.

Nothing was said until they reached the barn with the horses. El Lobo spoke as they began unsaddling the animals.

“No like this place.
Malo.”

“I don't like the looks of it myself,” Wes said, “but there's no other shelter in sight, and there's snow on the way.”

“He say his women make supper,” said El Lobo.

“I heard him,” Wes said. “I've heard there are men who have more than one wife, and we may have just met such a man. We'll say or do nothing to antagonize these people. All we want is shelter from the storm. Snowed in, the last thing we want is trouble.”

“Seth and Luke be trouble,” said El Lobo. “Per‘ap Jubal. Much oro, much trouble.”

“They don't know we have gold,” Wes said. “We'll leave it in our saddlebags and leave them here in the barn. We'll keep just enough coin in our pockets to pay our way, if need be. If we're asked to take our meals at the house, I reckon it's only decent that we offer to pay. Come on. We'll play the cards as they fall.”

Empty remained in the barn with the horses. The wind whipped snow into their faces as Wes and El Lobo returned to the house.

“Come on back to the dinin' room,” said Jubal, who was waiting in the hall. “Supper's on the table.”

The table, hand-hewn and more than a dozen feet long, had twin benches of an equal length. Seth and Luke already sat on one of the benches. Wes and El Lobo sat down on the other, across the table from the surly brothers. The two of them immediately moved along the bench to the far end of the table. Sensing trouble, Jubal sat down across the table from them. A coal oil lamp swung from the ceiling over each end of the table, and a bountiful spread was already in place. Three women entered bringing more food, including a pan of freshly baked bread.