Predators

TUCSON, ARIZONA, 10 JUNE 1874

The ride into Tucson was pleasant, considering the time of year, as the Montoya caravan made its way across the Santa Cruz river and turned north to meet the Butterfield road into Tucson itself.  The sun rose higher, and by mid-morning it had grown warm.

At the outskirts of Tucson, Don Sebastian rode up to wish his daughter farewell, and then turned north with his entourage for the U.S. Army post at Fort Lowell.

"I will be back to see you very soon, Mark," Xavier Escobar called out as they rode away, and Mark waved at him from the buckboard.  Blue sat on his left, driving the buckboard, and Victoria was on his right, her face shaded by a gaily-colored parasol.  They watched for a moment, then Blue got the horses into motion again. Slowly, they drove into Tucson, coming to a halt before the general store a short time later.

"Well, this is it, Mark," Blue said, waving his hands expansively.  "The big city of Tucson."

Mark stared around in wonder at the assortment of buildings, his eyes big and bright, and Victoria's own eyes twinkled as she watched him examine the town.

"Gosh," he said at last.

"Have you been to a town such as Tucson before?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Mark replied.  "At least, not since I was a baby.  Pa and I, well, we rode through Dallas once, on our way to North Fork.  That's about as close to a town of this size as I've been to since we left the Nations.  'Course, Pa told me that once, when I was little, we went to St. Louis, but I don't remember that."

"First we will take you to into the store and buy you some new clothes," Victoria said, smiling.  "I can wash the ones you have on, but you have nothing to wear while I am washing them."

"Gee, thanks.  I'm much obliged, Mrs. Cannon, but I don't know how I'm gonna be able to pay you back."

"Don't even think of it," Victoria replied instantly.  "It is our pleasure, Mark.  You are our very special guest.  And my name is Victoria."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you uncomfortable addressing me by my first name?"

"Well, Pa taught me to be respectful of older folks—uh, not that you are old or anything, ma'am.  It's just that people who are adults, and especially ladies, well, Pa had rules about that.  Is it all right if I call you Mrs. Cannon?"

Victoria tried to keep a straight face, but she was unsuccessful.

"It is perfectly all right and very acceptable," she said.  "It is a bit formal, however.  I would like you to feel that our home is your home, and that you are with family."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mark replied, and his eyes glazed a bit as he stared northeast at the distant Santa Catalinas.  "That's mighty nice of you, and I do appreciate it, but what I had of a family…well, it died out there in those mountains."

Mark blinked suddenly, and looked up to meet Victoria's concerned eyes.

"Of course, nothing against your family or anything, Mrs. Cannon.  You folks are all swell people.  It just might take me a spell to get comfortable, that's all."

"Take all the time you need," Victoria assured him, and she patted his knee fondly.  "You are to feel as one of our family, and we are glad to have you with us."

Blue stepped down from the buckboard and tied off the team, then moved to help Victoria step down to the street.  He picked Mark up with one arm, ripped the boy's hat off, and ruffled his hair before setting him down on the boardwalk with a loud thump.  Mark grinned, and placed his hat back on his head as Victoria handed Blue a list of required supplies and a wad of money.

"Take Mark inside and buy him at least two sets of clothes," she said.  "I will go down to visit with the sheriff and inform him of what has happened.  Hopefully, he will be able to telegraph the territorial marshal.  We will also telegraph North Fork and find out if there is anyone there who can send for Mark.  Do not take long.  We will eat lunch in town before we return home."

Blue nodded and pushed his blonde thatch of hair back under his hat as his blue eyes looked out across the desert south of town.

"Okay, but we'd better not get started too late," he said.  "We won't have your pa and his riders with us on the way back, and with all that's been going on around here lately, well, we'd best get back before it gets dark."

Victoria smiled at him.

"We will.  Blue, sometimes you sound just like your father.  Here, use some of this money to entertain Mark.  Buy him some candy," she said, whispering the last part.  "Some for yourself, too."

Blue scowled a moment.  He was not sure what to say.  He knew that the money was a gift, or perhaps a payment for watching Mark, but it was unnecessary, for he liked the McCain boy.  On one hand, the offer was a kindness, but taken another way it might mean that Victoria considered Blue to be a child as well.  She knew he liked candy, but it was hardly a manly sort of thing.  Not sure what to say, Blue merely nodded at her.

"Okay."

"I shall return shortly.  Mark, if you will go with Blue, he will help you pick out your new clothes."

"Yes, ma'am," Mark said with a grin.

Victoria smiled once more at Mark and then walked away down the boardwalk, twirling her bright parasol overhead, as grand and regal a lady as any that walked Paris, Madrid, or San Francisco.

Blue watched her go in silence.  He had experienced some difficulty fitting Victoria into the scheme of his life at times.  She was not, nor could he ever call her, his mother.  Victoria was not much older than Blue himself, so the concept of treating her as his mother just made no sense.  She certainly did not look the part, and being as young as she was, she would likely have cringed had he ever used that term for her.

No, his mother was dead, taken by the hard land in which they now lived.  She was the only mother Blue would ever know.  Victoria was now his father's wife, but she was more like a big sister to Blue than anything else.

He could certainly see why his father was attracted to her.  With her long, straight black hair, glittering black eyes, small waist and fine-boned complexion, Victoria was a beauty by anyone's standards.  Blue was man enough to recognize that, and despite the fact that he was now related, he was not completely immune to her feminine charms himself.  With her grace, charm, manners and good looks, she was quite a woman.  Strangely, she seemed almost out of place on the frontier, like a cup of fine china set on a rough wooden bar in a saloon. Almost like a jewel in the dirt.  Only her Mexican heritage made her seem appropriate to the harsh land and dry desert.

A certain warmth and friendliness had grown between them over the last few months.  Like that between brother and sister, it was a feeling of family, of unison, but it had not always been that way.

At first, Blue had resented Victoria, and had been angry with his father for marrying her.  She had seemed far too young for his father, and she had been from a culture that was alien to Blue and to his father as well.  Worse, the marriage had been one of those arranged things that were so popular in Europe; more a way of sealing a business deal between his father and Don Sebastian than a marriage based on love.  Blue was far too romantic to ever accept the idea of marriage for any reason except love.  Yet, even that had not been the cause of his deep-seated resentment of her.  No, the truth had been that Blue had felt his father had somehow tried to replace his mother by marrying her.  He had been angry that his father had not grieved nearly long enough for his mother before marrying a young Mexican girl that he had never known. It had felt almost as if his father had been turning his back on Anna Lee's memory.

Blue had also been convinced at the time that Victoria was in on the plot to replace his mother, and that she had been part of the Montoya family's plot to get ownership rights in his father's business.  He had thought, initially, that she was actually a spy that old Don Sebastian had planted into the Cannon household.

Perhaps that had indeed been Don Sebastian's intent, for the Lion of Sonora was a crafty old rascal, but if that were so, his plans had long since backfired on him, for Victoria had a mind of her own.

At the time, Blue's own pain and loss had kept him from seeing things clearly.  Now, with the passage of time, he could see what the truth was.  His anger over losing his own mother had blinded him to Victoria's qualities.  With the passage of time, Blue had come to realize that a man could love more than one woman in a lifetime.  He realized now that his father's marriage to Victoria had never been intended to replace Anna Lee's memory.  In the midst of his father's deep internal grief, Victoria had provided him something to hang onto; a light at the end of a dark emotional tunnel.  More importantly, (and still a wonder to Blue) he had come to realize that Victoria truly loved his father.  That realization, more than anything else, had finally softened his resentment toward her.  Once Blue had allowed himself to know her, he had found out that he actually liked her.

Victoria could never replace his mother, but she was somehow more suited to this new life than his mother could ever have been.  His mother had been a southern woman of fields, hedges, and wooded hills.  Victoria was a product of Mexico, and the Sonoran desert.  She cared for his father with a different kind of passion than his mother had.  It was certainly not better than his mother's love, but it was different, and not less than what his mother had felt.  Blue knew that she made his father happy.  In the end, that was all that really mattered.  Fortunately, in the process of becoming John Cannon's wife, Victoria had also become the big sister than Blue had never had.

Blue's reflections made him turn to look at Mark McCain.  They had a lot in common, he thought sadly.  They were both sons who had lost their mothers far too early in life.  They shared that unique and eternal grief.  The only difference between them, other than age, was that Blue still had a father.

Blue could still understand how the boy must feel.  His own father had been gone off to war when Blue had been about the same age.  He had not known at the time if he would ever see his father or his uncle again, and he had felt half-orphaned.  Fortunately, both had returned from the war.  Mark, however, truly was an orphan.  It created a warm and tender sympathy in Blue for the boy.

"Let's go in the store," he told Mark, stepping up on the boardwalk.

"We have a general store in North Fork, too," Mark told him.  "It's ran by a gal named Millie, who's a friend of ours.  I don't think Millie's store ever had this much stuff in it, though."

"Do you like rock candy?" Blue asked.

"Boy, do I!"

"Good, because this store has some of the best rock candy this side of the Mississippi.  You want some?"

"Are you kidding?  I never turn down rock candy."

Blue grinned and placed his hand on Mark's shoulder as he led him into the store.

"You're a boy after my own heart," he said with a grin.

II

SALOON,  TUCSON, ARIZONA

Sod Chambers stepped to the bar and had the barkeep pour him another shot of rye.  He quickly emptied the shot glass, grimacing as he felt the whiskey burn deep into his belly.  He quickly ordered a refill and leaned against the bar, holding the shot glass in one hand.  His other hand hung loosely at his side, holding his fancy new Winchester.

Tucson was an okay town, but it was a bit tame for Chambers.  He much preferred Tombstone, which was a wilder place, more spread out, and with far less law and order.  Unlike Fort Bowie, which was quite a ways from Tombstone, Fort Lowell was located in Tucson itself, and the presence of the Army did much to keep things calm and ordered.  With the territorial marshal usually out on rounds, much of the law was handled by the Army.  Too many lawmen usually made Sod Chambers nervous, but soldiers were a group he was comfortable with.

His life had been a hard one, he had to admit that, but he was doing pretty well now.  He was a leader of men, a man with a gang of tough, dependable men he could count on in a tough scrape.  They stayed dependable not only because Chambers was good with a gun, but also because he always made them a profit.  True, he made his living selling guns to renegade Indians, but he had never had any particular qualms about being on the owlhoot trail.

His family had been dirt-poor when he was born, a small clan of sharecroppers in South Carolina.  In those days, he and his family had worked in the fields right beside the rich plantation owners' black slaves.  It had been a poor life with poor meals.  The meals had all been the same, consisting mostly of fatback, cornbread and collard greens.  The plantation families in the area had treated his family no better than the slaves they worked beside.  They even had a pet nickname for poor indentured white laborerssandhill tackeys.

Sod's father had been a thin, hard-working man.  A tough, resolute hardshell Baptist, he was a man who had constantly quoted from the Bible and weaved religious interpretations into everything in life.  The old man had had some mighty strange notions about life, too.

"We's poor 'cause we's sinners," his pa had often told him as they worked to plow a tobacco field, or to pick fuzzy cotton bolls.  "A man's born to this life as a sinner, and he dies a sinner, and that's why we have our lot in life, son.  We's sinners an' don't deserve no better.  Ain't no cause in trying to better yourself up none like them high falutin' folks.  You cain't be better'n what you are.  We is what we is because we deserve it."

His pa had also had some tough rules for Sod and his brothers to follow.  He would not tolerate swearing or drinking, and attendance in church every Sunday had been mandatory, unless one had been on one's deathbed.  His father had been more than happy to take a razor strop to Sod and his brothers any time they transgressed one of the many rules that his old man considered law, and therefore sacred.

By age seventeen, Sod Chambers had finally had more than enough of the old coot.  He'd had enough picking cotton for rich folks, too.  He had had enough of working beside black slaves, and more than enough of hard, sweaty work.  But most of all, he'd had more than enough of his surly Bible-quoting pap.

So had informed his father that he intended to join the army when the war came to South Carolina, but his pa had not cottoned to that at all.  He had taken up his razor strap and started quoting from the Book of Luke, a sure sign that Sod was in for a whipping.  But Sod had surprised him that day, knocking the strap from the old man's hands, then he had physically picked him up and set him on the red hot iron stove in their small share cropper's cabin.

Burned, his father had howled and swung, but Sod had fought him, and he had won, beating the living daylights out of the old man right there in the kitchen.  It was true that he had had to use an ax handle to do it, for the old man was a tough scrapper, but it had been the only way Sod could ensure that he would win.

He had left his father a bloody mess on the kitchen floor, in front of his crying mother and the dirty wailing waifs that were his brothers and sisters.  Sod Chambers had simply walked away and never looked back.

Richmond, Virginia had been a lot closer than Washington had been.   Chambers had decided that he would join the Confederate army on that basis, since joining the Union army would have required a longer walk.  He had walked into Richmond and enlisted a few weeks later.

Soldiering had not been difficult work for him, certainly nothing as difficult as doing a slaves' work in the fields had been.  He had taken to soldiering well, happy with having relatively clean clothes and three meals a day, and even a little leisure time on occasion.

He had been there when it all started, at the first Bull Run.

The Union army had come south, angry over the incident at Fort Sumter, and spoiling for a fight.  They had come south as if to a party.  Women, children, even dogs and cats had followed the Union army all the way down from Washington, spectators who had expected to see the rebel army firmly trounced.  Many had even set up picnic dinners as they watched the Union army array itself in a parade ground demonstration of formation and drill.

General Beauregard had retained other ideas, of course.  When the Yankees attacked, they had driven Beauregard's rebel soldiers all the way back to Henry House Hill, but Madman Thomas Jackson had stood his ground at that point, stopping the Yankees cold.  Beauregard had quickly perceived that Union General McDowell's attempt to encircle him had failed, and when McDowell had over-extended his right flank, Beauregard had sent J.E.B. Stuart's cavalry in to smash it.  The counterattack had worked wonderfully, surprising the Yankee army, and the festive scene on the Union side of the lines had quickly disintegrated into a rout.  Soldiers, civilians, horses, and other animals had tried to flee in panic back up the road to the north, and the Confederate army had pursued them, turning Centerville Road into a jumbled morass of people, wagons, and animals.

The pursuit had been half-hearted, for Beauregard had felt no urge to kill the civilians fleeing with the Yankee army.  Even so, the first battle of Bull Run had taught the Yankees a think or two about the South.  It had also Sod Chambers a thing or two about soldiering.

He had come to realize that men would naturally follow a leader who dared do bold things that other men only dreamed about.  More importantly, he had realized that he preferred to live life in the saddle with the cavalry than to live in the mud with the infantry.

He had managed, using a little blackmail involving a Confederate officer and a slave girl, to obtain an assignment to a cavalry outfit.  Sod had always liked horses, anyway, and he had taken to cavalry life much better than he had to the infantry, for it had involved less walking.

His soldiering career had gone well, too, right up until the fifth day of May, 1864.  Attacking along the Plank Road, Sod's outfit had tangled with the Yankees in a furious scrap that later became known as the Battle of the Wilderness.  The Yankees had lost over two thousand men in that battle, and suffered another twelve thousand wounded, and the battle had been so fierce that the forest itself had caught on fire.  Men on both sides had roasted to death in that forest fire, and it had been that very fire which had led to his undoing.

Desperately galloping his horse through the woods in an attempt to escape the approaching flames, half blinded by smoke, Sod had not seen the low-hanging branch that knocked him from the saddle.  He had been riding wildly one moment, and the next thing he had known was waking up with a headache.  He had also seen a Yankee soldier pointing a long bayonet at his belly and telling him he was a prisoner of war.

They had placed him in irons after that and taken him north on a train. After two days in a crowded, festering cattle car, he had arrived at the Rock Island Federal Prison.  The prison camp had been overcrowded, and the conditions had been horrible, even worse than those he had endured as a sharecropper's son.  The place had been full of wounded and dying Confederate troops, all poorly fed and clothed.  Lice had rats been rampant, and many had died of gangrene, malnutrition and dysentery.  Sod had felt as if he would himself die from the sheer horror and filth, until his Yankee captors had approached one day and offered a way out.

Due to the desperate need for experienced troops, the Union had stripped its frontier posts of soldiers to feed the meat grinder in the east.  The reduction of the frontier posts to mere skeleton crews had been an open invitation to the western Indians tribes that the time was ripe to attack.  Predictably, Indian raids had erupted all along the frontier from Texas to North Dakota.

Comanches, Kiowas, and Cheyenne had fiercely harassed the southern plains settlements, even as the Apaches raided in the southwest and the Sioux in the north.  Desperate for available soldiers to stop the Indians, the Union government had finally arrived at a plan to make use of the Confederate manpower wasting away in prison camps.

The Yankees had offered a deal to the prisoners.  They would not have to fight their brothers in gray, but as a condition of release from prison, they had to agree to serve the Union army in its fight against the western Indians.  Many of the prisoners had been more than happy to sign that deal merely to escape the soul-killing prison.  Sod Chambers had been one of those.

He had not really minded changing uniforms.  He had decided he could kill Indians as easily as he could kill Yankees.  Chambers had never felt any particular sympathy for the Confederate cause, anyway, only a need to belong in a band of men who took swift action.  So it was that he had found himself, in the spring of 1865, a "galvanized" Yankee, riding out to South Dakota to fight the fierce Sioux.

He had found the plains tribes a different sort of enemy than the Yankees.  The Indians did not close for battle unless they were sure they could win. That had not been the way of fighting in the Civil War at all.  Unlike white men, the Lakota could have cared less about holding or conquering terrain, nor for the glory of a cause.  The Indians had not fought for glory.  Instead, they had fought for victory and survival.  They had only been interested in winning, and on those occasions when they could not win, they had simply ridden away.  When they could, the Sioux had attacked with everything they had, mercilessly.  It had given Chambers a new appreciation of warfare in general, and of Indians in particular.

You couldn't whip an enemy you couldn't catch.

He had finished his tour of duty on the ill-fated Powder River campaign.  The Civil War was by then over, he had been released from service.  Free at last, Chambers had found he had no reason to return home.  He had no urge to return to his life as a sharecropper, and his family certainly had not wanted to see him again.  He knew he would never be welcome at home again after the beating he had given his father.  To make matters more ironic, he had had to concede that ex-slaves were better off than his family.  Black slaves had been freed by law, as a consequence of the Union war victory. Poor white sandhill tackeys, however, were freed from nothing, and thus had to work the fields alone.  Had he returned home, that was all he would have been.

It had been far better to remain in the West, where a man was free to ride and go his own way.  Chambers was a cautious man who learned from his mistakes, and he had quickly learned that the ends usually justified the means.

He had been dead broke and drifting, drinking in a muddy saloon in Kansas with some buffalo hunters, when he had gotten the idea that rather than fight Indians, perhaps he could make them business partners.

He had traded with the Kiowa first, after having bought a load of goods on credit, but the Kiowa had possessed little worth trading for, and had wanted the guns for virtually nothing.  Trading guns to Indians could get a man hung, but Chambers had taken the risk, managing to supply them with some old discarded carbines.  The Kiowa had managed to trade enough robes for those guns that when he cashed them in for money he had somehow come out ahead.  Soon after, he had done the same thing with the Southern Cheyenne.  Not long after that, he had enough money that he began attracting helpers, men who wanted quick cash and were not too particular about how they made it.  In a few years, he had developed a tough gang of professional gunrunners, and he had turned his men south, intending to sell guns to the Kwahadi Comanches.

Somehow, the Texas Rangers had gotten wind of his scheme, however.  He and his gang had had to run for their lives from a supposed trading fair near Palo Duro canyon, when it had turned out to be a trap.  Three of his men had been shot down as they ran, two others subsequently caught and hanged, and Chambers had decided that perhaps Texas was not a such a good place to do business with Indians.

He had then moved the gang father west, into New Mexico.  They had tried trading with the Mescaleros, only to have most of his wares stolen in treachery.  Chambers had then lead his gang south and proceeded to raid Mexican towns in Chihuahua. 

It had only been simple robbery at first, but his men had quickly developed a taste for dusky Mexican women, and the raids soon became more for rape and food than for robbery.  They had been fearful that such people would point the Federales their way, so they butchered several small villages to eliminate any witnesses.  Some of the men had started scalping the women when they were through with them, wearing their scalps tied in the fringe of their buckskin jackets, or hung loosely from the barrels of their rifles.  In fact, it had seemed like a good idea.

Soon they were leaving obvious signs that the raids had been the result of a Mescalero attack.  It had effectively thrown off pursuit, and it had more than paid the Mescalero back for their treachery.  Chambers' men had been very careful to make each raid look like an Apache depredation.

Sod had never cared much for raping village girls, but he was not above taking a target of opportunity if it arose.  He had no compunction about killing in cold blood, either.

It had been about that time when the renegade, Juh, had led the Janeros Apache on a massive raid into Sonora.  That incident had given Chambers the idea to try to trade with the Chiricahua, who would sorely need guns for the coming fight.

He had needed guns to trade, however.  As a result, he had himself originated the idea of attacking an Army caravan while dressed as Apaches.  His men had wiped out a wagon train of soldiers only a few weeks after hatching the idea, hitting a small detail moving a wagon load of carbines and ammunition from Fort Bowie to Tucson.

The plan had worked well, he admitted, slugging down another shot of rye.  The Chiricahua would butcher Mexicans and bring their gold back to trade for the new rifles.  As long as they were on a tear along the border, Sod Chambers knew he would have a steady source of customers.  It was, therefore, in his best interests to keep the unrest going on both sides of the border.

He planned to instigate a few more raids on the Mexican side using his own men—dressed as Apaches, of course—and that would keep the Mexicans and the Americans constantly at odds.  In turn, both sides would mount unrelenting pressure on the real Apache, who would be even more eager to buy more guns.

It was almost perfect, in a way.  His gang got richer all the while, and they had plenty of money for whiskey and whores.  Best of all, the Apaches took the blame for the whole thing!

True, the rifles would get harder and harder to supply, but it did not take a genius to sneak a man into a fort and learn about the movement of weapons and ammunition.  All one had to do was listen in the bars and cantinas around the post.  Chambers' own knowledge of cavalrymen and his easy-going manners had served him well in that regard in the past.  There was no reason they would not serve him well in the future.

The only trouble was that the Apache were not fools.  They were rapidly growing tired of the old Sharps carbines he was supplying, wanting instead the shorter-ranged but rapid fire lever-action repeaters that many ranchers were carrying.

Like the very Winchester carbine he held in his left hand.

Sod hefted the Winchester and stared at it.  It was a beauty.  A carbine, true, shorter-ranged than the sporting rifle the Winchester company had released a year earlier, but a work of art none-the-less.  Its previous owner had obviously had a gunsmith work on it, too.  The rifle had an unusually large lever, almost a round ring, with a screw drilled through the trigger guard to make it fire every time the lever was closed.  Pure genius, really.  It was a wonder why the Army had not thought up that trick yet.

He thought of the man who had owned the rifle, the man he had shot.  He had been a tall man, with sandy red hair, blue eyes and a chin as square as the bottom of a lantern.  Shooting him with his own rifle had been a great touch.

That McCain fellow had possessed a rattlesnake's eyes, eyes that could turn from a friendly aqua to volcanic blue ice in an instant.  But he was dead now, and it was just as well.  What kind of fool traveled alone in the desert taking a small boy through Apache country?

What kind of fool carried only a single rifle for protection?

It did not matter, of course.  The man was long gone to his Maker by now, food for ants, buzzards, and coyotes.   The most satisfying touch had been to give that squawking brat of his to the Apache, so they could roast the kid over a slow fire.  Likely, the Apaches had had quite a time, too, for they were masters of torture, and could keep a body alive for days in horrible pain before death finally came.  Yeah, as much as that kid had liked to scream, he had likely entertained those Apaches for quite a few nights before they hung his scalp on their belts.  That rotten little waif wouldn't be squawking anymore.

A hand slapped Chambers on the shoulder, and he looked up to see the bearded face of Boyle Collins, his right-hand man, as he pulled up beside Chambers at the bar.

"You seem pretty deep in thought on something, Sod," Boyle said.  "What you thinkin' about?"

"Oh, nothin' much," Chambers replied, staring at the whiskey in his shot glass.  "Just enjoying a little red-eye, that's all."

"Ha!  I see you're still hanging on to that fancy rifle.  You gonna sell that thing, or keep it?"

"Think I'll keep it.  Why?"

"Well, a rifle like that, it stands out," Boyle said, pouring whiskey into his own glass.  "Might be kind of well-known.  Somebody might recognize it.  I wouldn't want people to start asking questions and pokin' their noses into our business.  I'd sell it, if I were you.  Or hide it"

"Well, you ain't me," Chambers said.  "I like the way it shoots.  I wonder how well that sodbuster we killed could shoot this thing.  What do you think a two-bit sodbuster like him needed a fancy repeater like this for?  Certainly didn't need it to punch cattle or plow dirt.  I wonder why he made the lever ring so big like that."

"He had big hands," Boyle said, tossing down his rye.  "He was a big fella.  Maybe he just couldn't get his big ol' hams inside a skinny little lever."

"Maybe," Chambers admitted.  "You through playing poker?"

"Dealt myself out," Boyle said, refilling his glass.  "I couldn't seem to get any winning hands.  Besides, there's other pleasures in town, if you get my drift."

Chambers laughed and laid the rifle upon the bar, refilling his own glass as he rested on his forearms.

"I do, indeed, Boyle."

"Man's just gotta take him a woman once in a while," Boyle explained, his eyes glittering.  "Especially men like us, what drift here and there.  Besides, they even got white women in this here town.  I'd much rather save my money for them women than those horse thieves in that poker game over there."

"Oh?  You done gone and got tired of them senoritas across the border, Boyle?"

Boyle grinned as he drank his rye, then paused to spit in the spittoon beside the bar.

"No, I ain't," he laughed.  "Them Mexican gals is fine stuff, Sod.  But they's a spicy sort.  Like chili.  Sometimes a man likes chili, and sometimes he just wants some plain old vanilla."

Boyle's gaze suddenly drifted out past Chambers, and he stared through the batwing doors at the street  "On the other hand," he said slowly.  "Jumpin' Jehosephat, Sod, get a load of that!"

A Mexican woman walked down the boardwalk across the street, dressed in petticoats and a shawl, carrying a bright umbrella.  Her features were finely chiseled, and her smooth skin was light for a Mexican.  Her coal-black hair hung straight and free, almost reaching her waist, pulled back and held in place with a simple white band.  Her clothes were expensive, and she moved with a visual grace and dignity.

"Well, I'm not much for bean-eaters," Sod said admiringly, "but I got to admit that there's one fine-looking filly, Boyle."

"You're telling me," Boyle replied, licking his lips.  "I need to keep my eye on that one.  See which place she works in.  Might need to holster my gun or something, if you know what I mean."

Chambers laughed, causing Boyle to scowl.

"I don’t think she's that type, Boyle," Chambers said, shaking his head.  "Too classy.  She ain't no working girl, not in this cow town.  Look at them clothes, and the way she carries herself.  No, that there is likely some rich patron's woman, maybe his daughter; some Mex rancher, with a whole lot of cattle and money.  Probably claims Spanish descent, too.  She won't have nothing to do with the likes of you, ol' pard.  You're likely just a bit too gringo for the likes of her."

They watched as the woman continued down the street, smiling at passersby as she made he way to the general store, where she entered.  Chambers slapped Boyle on the back in consolation.

"No, you better stick with them crib girls, Boyle.  She's out of your class."

"The hell she is," Boyle grumbled.

"I'm telling you, Boyle, there's women and then there's ladies.  You might get away with messing with some woman on this side of the border, especially if they ain't white, but it ain't likely, less'n they're whores.  But, you go hedging a fancy lady in these parts and you're gonna have a lot more attention than your poor ol' hide wants.  And it won't be from the lady, neither."

Boyle Collins was staring sullenly, sipping from his glass and thinking about the woman when his eyes suddenly widened and he slammed the glass down on the bar.  Wiping his mouth, he punched Chambers lightly in the arm and pointed out the door.

Across the street, the Mexican woman had emerged from the general store with two people, a tall blonde lad of about twenty, and a young boy with dark hair.

"Hey, Sod, ain't that the kid we give to them Apaches?" Sod asked.

Chambers blinked as if he had not heard Boyle correctly, then followed his pointing hand to stare at the people across the street.  Chambers' eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed sharply as he felt a shiver run up his spine.  Suddenly, he felt mean.

Real mean.

"I'll be damned and horse-whipped to Sunday," Chamber said softly.  "It's him all right."

"How'd he get to be here?" Boyle asked incredulously.  "We left that kid for the 'Patches to kill."

"It would appear," Chambers said softly, his eyes narrowing even more, "that them redskins ain't quite the friends we come to expect 'em to be.  He's with that pretty Mex gal.  Where was she when you first saw her?"

"Down past the livery, over by the sheriff's office," Boyle said.

"Damn."

Chambers tossed off the last of his drink and set the glass down beside the rifle on the bar, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he thought.  He had to have time to think this through; time to understand the implications of that sodbuster's kid still being not only alive, but here in Tucson.

"This ain't good, Boyle.  This ain't good at all."

"Why?"

"That kid can identify us, Boyle.  He saw us tradin' guns to them Chiricahua.  Way things are right now, that's more than enough to get our necks stretched.  And if that ain't enough, that brat saw me gun down his daddy personally.  If he points us out to the law, well, it'll be a lot worse for us here than it was back in Texas."

Boyle growled and reached for his gun.

"Not if I shoot him first."

Chambers placed a restraining hand on Boyle's arm and shook his head.  "Use your head," he told the bearded man.  "You go and gun that kid down and they'll hang you for sure.  People in these parts ain't gonna let you get away with something like that, especially not when it’s a kid."

"Yeah, well that older one's wearing a gun," Boyle pointed out.  "Maybe I can draw on him and just kind of let the little kid get caught in the crossfire."

Chambers shook his head, and turned his back to the doors so that anyone passing by would not get a good look at his face.  He motioned for Boyle to step closer.

"No, that's not the way," he said.  "A gunfight in town is too chancy.  That blonde guy might be faster'n you, or even get off a lucky shot."

"I've killed better men than that greenhorn," Boyle growled angrily.

"Yeah, but you've also seen some men get shot ten or twelve times before they finally went down, and even though they were already dead, some of 'em still managed to get off a lucky shot that dropped their killer.  You've also seen a lot of bystanders hit who weren't even in the gunfight.  No, a gunfight like that will draw way too much attention in a town like this, and attention is definitely something we don't need right now.  I don't want any lawmen snooping' around anywhere near us.  There ain't no advantage in bucking a stacked deck, Boyle.  Not unless you have to."

"That kid will get us hung!"

"So will a gunfight in the streets of town," Chambers told him, using a firmer voice.  "There are ways we can still deal with that kid that don't involve announcing to the whole world who we are and what we've done.  There's got to be a way of getting to that kid without everybody else getting to us."

"So, what are you planning, Sod?  An ambush?"

Chambers pushed his hat back on his head and carefully pulled the cork from the bottle and refilled the glass before replying.  There had to be a better way to shut the kid up without making it obvious who killed him.  There just had to be.

Chambers had to admit it was likely the woman had already reported the boy's tale to the local law.  That would certainly explain why she had gone to the sheriff's office.  He had already checked around, and he knew the territorial marshal was out of town; a man on the owlhoot trail made it his business to find out things like that.  The sheriff had a responsibility for the township and county, but he wasn't likely to go searching the local mountains without a cause.  Not even on a pretty Mexican lady's word.

Perhaps he could arrange to bushwhack them on the way home.  Judging from the buckboard, they had come from some distance out of town.  It would not take much effort to ask around and find out where the lady lived.  People would know where a pretty thing like that was from.  If he could ask the questions easy enough, he could find that out without much effort, and no one would be the wiser.  Of course, it would be a lot easier to just light a shuck for Nogales and cross the border, where his gang would be safe from the sheriff and the army.  On the other hand, as long as that kid was still alive, they would never be safe in Arizona.

"We gotta get that kid somehow, Boyle," he said.  "Without him, there ain't no witnesses.  Everything is what they call circumstantial evidence.  I think I got an idea of how we can do that, but we're gonna have to do some asking around, and we have to be real careful about how we do it, so no one gets suspicious.

"First, we need to find out where that Mexican lady lives and how to get there.  Then, we got to know what we're up against at her house.  We need to figure out the best place to hit 'em.  On the road, or at their house.  Once we find out, we're gonna lay low, outta sight-like.  Get the boys together and tell 'em what's going on, then send a few of them out to ask about that senorita.  I want to know everything we can about her.  Her name, her family, even her friends.  How many men work at her ranch, that sort of thing. Then, we she leaves town, we'll trail her and pick our spot."

Boyle grinned and refilled his own shot glass.  "A bushwhack?"

"Maybe," Chambers replied.  "Or maybe something better.  Depends on what we find out.  But one thing's for sure; we gotta get rid of that kid somehow or we're done in these parts.  And I got no intention of being done just yet.  There's still a lot of Apaches out there, and a lot more army guns to steal, and a lot of Mexican gold to take."

"And a lot more Mexican towns to raid," Boyle added with a guffaw.  "Okay, Sod.  We'll do like you say.  Should be no problem.  Only thing is, when the time comes, whether she's alive or dead, I want me a turn at that Mexican gal.  Most of the others will, too."

Chambers smiled easily and slapped Boyle on the back.

"I think we can arrange that," he said happily, all charm and comfort now.  "I might just have to give that one a go my own self.  She's pretty."

Boyle laughed, and Sod picked up his glass and rifle and moved back into the gloom of the saloon, watching the trio across the street from relative darkness, where those on the street would be unable to make him out.

Outside, the lady was helped into the buckboard by the blonde lad, who then hoisted the sodbuster's kid up and onto the riding seat.  The blonde man stepped up onto the buckboard a moment later, and started the wagon, driving it down the street to stop in front of a restaurant, where he helped them down again and tied the horses.

            Inside the saloon, ten pairs of eyes watched them ascend the steps into the restaurant.  There was not a pleasant stare in any of them.

III

SOUTH OF THE RINCON MOUNTAINS, ARIZONA

It was hot in the afternoon sun as John Cannon led his men south toward the High Chaparral.  The work on the north range was completed, and they at last had a break in the field until the fall roundup.  The men were looking forward to the well-earned barbecue that John had promised them the following day, as well as having time off the following day.  For the present, however, it would be more than enough for most of them just to be back on the ranch and to sleep in a real bed instead of on the hard ground.

Sam and Joe Butler rode at John's side, ahead of the rest of the men as they proceeded south, crossing the desert north of Tucson.

"I suppose you boys will be happy to get home tonight," John said in the way of conversation, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat running down the small of his back and threatening to make him itch.

"Yes, sir," Joe replied with a smile.

"Joe's a mite happier than the rest, Mr. Cannon," Sam explained dryly.  "Seems he got a crick in the neck from using that saddle of his as a pillow."

"I just want a good meal and a bath," Joe countered, and his big brother laughed.

"The rest of us would sure appreciate that," Sam said, shaking his head.  "You taking a bath, I mean."

John tried not to grin, but he was not entirely successful.

"Well, you men can do just about whatever you want tonight," he said.  "Eat, sleep, ride into town, whatever.  You've all certainly earned it."

The afternoon was getting late, and it was hot, despite the darkness that would fall in a few hours.  John looked at the setting sun and estimated they would arrive at the High Chaparral just about sundown.  He had never liked going off and leaving the ranch unguarded, especially when Victoria was there alone.  Well, not entirely alone, he conceded.  He had left three hands to guard the ranch, and Blue was with her, of course.  Still, John felt a bit vulnerable, for if a sufficient number of Indians or bandits struck the ranch, there were not enough men there to adequately protect it.  He would be much happier when he had all of his hands safely back on the ranch.  Then things might get back to normal.

John reached up to wipe sweat from his eyes with his bandanna, and he saw Joe pull aside and point.  Sam nodded in response, pulling his Winchester from its scabbard with a practiced ease as he stared in the direction his brother had pointed.  John quickly stopped his own horse.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Dust ahead," Sam replied.  "Lots of it.  Looks like a whole herd of something headed south.  One plume's closer, though.  Something coming toward us."

"I see it," John said, squinting at the horizon.  "On the road out of Tucson, looks like.  Could it be the stage going east over the Butterfield road?"

"Could be," Sam admitted, "but that's an awful lot of dust for one stagecoach.  More like a troop of cavalry.  I prefer to remain careful until we know.  Especially with the Apache situation the way it is."

"Wise choice," John admitted.

They moved ahead slowly, eyes scanning the distance for any sign of danger.  At last, they spotted a lone rider coming toward them through the desert.  John pulled his men to a halt in a loose semicircle and waited.  The rider came on at a trot, stopping just outside of rifle range.  It was a white man.  He waved in a friendly manner, but he looked agitated, looking back over his shoulder as if expecting pursuit.

"You Big John Cannon?" the man called.  "Owner of the High Chaparral?"

"I am," John yelled back.  "Who wants to know?"

"Sorry," the man replied.  "Can't hear too well.  Can I come in?"

"Yes, come ahead."

The rider quickly galloped up to stop in front of John.  The rider had two rifles on his horse, a repeater and a Sharps buffalo gun.  He tipped his hat toward John and smiled.

"Howdy, Mr. Cannon, I'm Chancy Jones," the man said in a casual and friendly manner.  "It's a pleasure, sir."

"What can I do for you, Chancy?"

"I come to bring you news, Mr. Cannon," Jones told him.  "I was sent out from Tucson to find you.  They said you was likely out this way, probably coming south real soon.  They sent me out here to fetch you."

"Who sent you?" John asked tersely.  "What's going on?"

"Apaches," Jones replied breathlessly, as if he had ridden very hard recently.  "Lots of 'em.  They're raidin' all over the place.  Hit two ranches already.  Even struck at the south side of Tucson this morning."

"The Apaches struck Tucson?" John asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir.  Oh, just a few gunshots.  A man was wounded slightly, nothing serious.  But they sent a platoon of them Fifth Cavalry boys out to chase 'em off.  They did, too, northwest, right up into a canyon in the Tortolito Mountains.  That's where them cavalry boys got ambushed.  The commander at Fort Lowell told me there was a whole troop pinned down over there in a box canyon.  Sent me up here to see if you could lend him a hand getting' his men out."

"What was all of that dust south of here?" John asked.

"Oh, that?" Jones said, grinning sheepishly.  "Well, the people in the town was worried about your ranch, what with you being gone an' all.  They sent a party of men over to guard it from the Apache, just in case they attack the ranch afore you get back.  They just wanted to make sure you still had a place to come home to, Mr. Cannon.

"The commandant over in Fort Lowell asked me to ride out here, see if I could find you.  See if you could help them soldier boys.  I said I'd try."

"They sent you all by yourself?" John asked.

"Weren't no one else," Jones replied.  "Rest was in the defense parties for the town or sent out to guard the ranches.  Me being a drifter in town and all, I guess they thought I was the least valuable, the most likely one they could risk to send out this way."

"And you volunteered to come?" Sam asked, his eyes narrowing.

"No, not exactly," Jones said sheepishly.  "I mean, I want to do my duty and all that, but it weren't my idea.  I had me a run-in with some boys in poker game in town.  They lost.  I was kind of figuring I should light a shuck before they came to collect all the money they lost."

"Yeah, that sounds like Tucson," Sam agreed.  To his right, Joe stared at Jones' saddle and his eyes narrowed a bit.  He frowned, moving closer, keeping his eyes on the man's rig.

"Where are these soldiers trapped at?" John asked.

"Just east of the Tortolitas," Jones said.   "Just go straight up the Pantano Wash to Ritillo Creek, then due north to the Tortolita range.  Captain at Fort Lowell said he'd meet your men there, if you came.  Said he'd wait until midnight, then he was going down in that canyon and get his men out…with or without you."

"Up the Pantano to Ritillo and then due north to the Tortalitas," John said.  "We can certainly help out.  Will you be riding with us?"

"Me?" Jones said with a horrified expression.  "Oh, no, sir!  Not me.  I've had enough run-ins with Injuns in this life already.  Had me a little do-see-do with them critters up on the Powder River some years back.  Sioux, they were.  Like to lost my hair.  No, sir, don't want me no more truck with Injuns.  They sent me to find you, and I found you.  I done my duty.  But fight them Apaches?  No, sir.  I'm lighting a shuck outta here.  Too dangerous in these parts.  Too much chance of ending up like Fetterman did back in sixty-six."

"Well, good luck to you then," John said.  "It'll be well after dark before we get to that spot.  I hope the army knows that."

"They know it," Jones said.  "Captain said he'd wait until midnight.  No longer."

"Much obliged," John told him, turning his horse to the northwest.  "Okay, Sam, let's get the men moving.  The Army is in need of our help.  It'll be a hard ride, and we may not get that warm bed tonight, but we had better go see what we can do."

"All right, Mr. Cannon.  Let's go, boys.  You heard the man," Sam yelled, and the riders turned to follow Sam and John as they began galloping back the way they had come, heading for the Tortolitas.  Joe Butler hung back a moment, watching Chancy Jones.  Jones looked at him and saluted.  Joe frowned slightly, then turned his horse and followed the men of the High Chaparral as they rode northwest to yet another Apache fight.

Sitting on his horse, Sod Chambers watched them ride off with a smile on his lips.  He had used the name Chancy Jones many times before, but he had never expected it would be this effective.  In fact, it could not have worked out better.  He started to laugh, then turned his horse and rode slowly back to the south at a slow cant.

It was time to go and see this High Chaparral ranch he had heard so much about.  Time to go and take a better look at that pretty Mexican gal, up close.

Time to go and kill a loudmouth kid for the second time.  

IV

HIGH CHAPARRAL RANCH, ARIZONA 

Victoria brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as she chopped the vegetables on the cutting board.  Mark McCain had gone into the washroom to clean up for supper, while Blue was busy putting away the buckboard and rubbing down the horses.  She pressed the knife against the cilantro and smiled.  The dinner would not be very fancy, with only the three of them to feed, but it would be enough.  More importantly, she had a child who would appreciate the food.

Only three men had been guarding the High Chaparral when Blue had driven them through the gate after the trip back from Tucson.  All were new hands, men John had decided to leave behind for various reasons.  One had developed a bad case of saddle sores, a second had a busted ankle, while a third had skills in carpentry and was more important working around the ranch than out on a cattle roundup.  Although one of the three was always on guard duty atop the windmill, the other two were usually in the bunkhouse and always armed.  Victoria did not know any of the three new men well, but they seemed like good, dependable hands.  John trusted them, and that was enough for her.

Now, as she fixed supper, it was becoming dark outside.  Blue was in the corral with the horses.  At this time of day, with her husband and the others all away, Victoria felt a small stab of loneliness.  At times like this, the empty High Chaparral, usually bustling with activity, seemed especially quiet.

Her thoughts, as they tended to do, drifted again to the land.  The desert was a sere place, a tough hard land with little mercy, yet it was also her home.  In its silent harsh way, the Sonoran desert could also be quite beautiful at times.  That was especially true when the sun was at a low angle, as it was now, lighting the distant hills with brilliant oranges, yellows and russets.  The distant lowlands and canyons disappeared into a deep purple gloom.  Far above them, the first star of the evening opened its single eye in the deep indigo of afterglow.  Dust particles in the air far above the desert lit the sky, even as the ground settled into the shadow of darkness.

The pastel shades and brilliant colors, the sudden coolness in the air after a day of heat, made the desert an especially wonderful place to be at sunset.  It was as if nature itself were talking to her, telling her to relax and prepare to rest for the night.  Soon the spangle of the celestial heavens would paint itself on the canvas of the sky above.  At times like this, with everything so quiet and peaceful, it was often difficult for Victoria to reconcile this tranquil land with the harsh desert that one saw in daylight.

Placing the cilanto in a dish, Victoria stepped out of the kitchen into the living room, opened the main right door, and stared out across the yard.  The soft yellow of lantern light glowed in the windows of the bunkhouse.  Blue was coming from the stables, wiping his hands on a battered red bandana, more than ready for the supper that she was preparing.  He looked up at her and smiled, and she stood waiting, holding the door open for him as she wiped her hands on an apron, enjoying the beauty of the land.

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance.

A sudden flash winked at her from purple dimness of the chaparral, and she blinked, jerking her eyes toward the source of the flash. Heat lightning was not at all unusual in the desert, but she had seen no clouds.

There was a smacking sound above her, followed by a roaring boom, far too loud and sharp to be thunder.   She heard a grunt and looked up to see the guard clutch at his chest and tumble from the windmill, landing very hard in the sand of the yard.

Gasping, Victoria started to run forward to help him when a second gunblast sounded, very loud, and much closer.  Before she could scream a warning, Blue spun around in a half circle and fell to one knee, even as more rifles began to bark all around the ranch. 

The gunfire roared in from the direction of the bunkhouse, and she realized there too many guns to count.  Bullets kicked dust up all around Blue as he stood, staggering as he drew his own pistol as he looked for something to shoot.

Apaches!  It had to be Apaches!  The ranch was under attack!

Victoria jumped from the porch and ran toward Blue, her eyes fearful as she noticed his limp, the strange way he clutched his side.  Blue was running toward her now, even as more bullets kicked up rooster tails of dust all around him.

Blue halted and fired at the bunkhouse, then continued running toward the ranch house.  He caught Victoria as he rushed past her, his greater weight literally pulling her into the house.  Blue slammed the door shut and barred it, stepping away as bullets thudded into its frame.   Then Victoria had to catch him as he sank, his eyes full of pain, holding the wound on his right side that was starting to bleed.

Apache war cries were suddenly heard, loud and wild, as more and more bullets struck the adobe walls and chewed into wooden doors and shutters.  The door was secure for now, and Victoria rushed to bar the remaining doors and windows, ducking as bullets buzzed about the house.  Then she returned to her husband's son.

"Blue!"

Blue saw her concern and tried to speak, but no words came from his lips.  Instead, he turned very pale and seemed to lose strength.  Sinking to the floor, he handed her his pistol.  As she took it from him, he collapsed face down onto the terra cotta tiles.

"Blue!" she cried again, and she knelt beside him and shook him.  He still breathed, but he had lost consciousness.  Placing the gun on the floor, Victoria ripped open his shirt and gasped at the bullet wound which was quickly leaking a pool of blood onto the tiles of the living room floor.

She pulled loose her apron, quickly ripped it in half, and used it to clean the blood from Blue's wound.  Unless she could stop the blood flow, he would bleed to death.

Wadding a strip of apron into a ball, she stuffed it into one side of the wound, then rolled Blue over to plug the exit wound in the same way.  It was difficult, for Blue was very heavy, dead weight in his unconsciousness.  Bullets continued to hit the ranch house, but she ignored them as she used more of the cloth to form a compress, which she tied off with even more strips of material.

Victoria glanced up once, to see Mark McCain staring at her, his eyes wide with terror as gunshots erupted all around the house.  He was crouched behind the centerpiece of the stairs.

"W-what's happening?" he asked.

"I am not sure," Victoria told him, returning to her task of tying Blue's bandages.  "I think Apaches are attacking the ranch.  Come over here.  Quickly!  I need you to help move Blue to the couch."

Mark ran to her as bullets thudded into the adobe outside.  Together, they lifted Blue and placed him on the couch.  Centered on the adobe wall between the two front doors, the couch was sheltered from bullets.  Victoria quickly returned to the kitchen for another apron, but blood was already staining the couch.

"Go into the kitchen, and stay low," she told Mark quickly.  "The walls are heavier.  They will protect you."

"What about you?"

"I must stay with Blue."

"Then I'm staying, too."

Victoria wanted to smile at the boy's bravery, but she placed a hand on his face.

"Please.  I must stay here, in case the Apaches break in.  I would feel much better if you were safe, so that I only had to worry about one man at a time."

"Well, okay," Mark said reluctantly.  "But is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, you can hide!"

Mark got up and started across the room just as another shower of bullets slammed into the house.  One penetrated the doorway and ricocheted across the room, striking the door beside John's office.  The sudden flurry only caused Mark to rush into the kitchen faster.  Victoria watched him disappear through the doorway, satisfied at last that the child was out of the way of flying bullets.

She quickly checked the heavy Colt pistol Blue had given her.  It contained only four bullets, not nearly enough for a battle.  She moved to Blue's side and began to extract fresh rounds from the loops in his belt.  Placing two fresh cartridges into the pistol, she put several more in her hand and brought the pistol up into firing position.

Victoria detested guns, but she knew how to use them.  Gun skills had been necessary when growing up on the frontier, and while she feared their capabilities, she knew they were merely tools.  Her father and Manolito had made sure that she had known how to shoot, even as a small child.  Growing up in Apacheria, her family had never known when they would come under Indian attack.  A hacienda needed every gun it had to fight off a raid, and that included arming the women of the house.

Her hands trembled as she held the gun, and for the first time since the attack began, Victoria felt fear.  Until this moment, she had only had time to react, to move, to try to get Blue to safety.  Now, with the sudden pause, she had time to think, and her thoughts began to terrorize her.

She had seen the ranch hand on the windmill shot, and she knew he had died because of the way he had fallen.  Most of the shots had come from the direction of the bunkhouse, and that meant that the other hands guarding the ranch were probably dead as well.  Which meant she and Blue and Mark were alone against an unknown number of Apache warriors.

She knew she could hold her own from inside the house, for the thick walls afforded her protection the attackers would not have.  The Apaches could try to batter down a door or smash a shutter and gain entrance, and if so, she would have a fight on her hands.  If only one door were breached, she might be able to hold them off for a while, but in the heat of a fight she only had six shots, so she knew she had to make each one count.

Her real fear was that the Apaches would know how well entrenched she was, and might set fire to the roof to drive them out.  It would be difficult, for parts of the roof were made of adobe as well, but it was possible, and there was enough exposed wood for the Apaches to shoot fire arrows into.  She had no real defenses against such a tactic.

Victoria's eyes widened slightly, as she realized the Apaches yells were fainter, farther off.  A sudden flurry of distant gunshots sounded, and then it was quiet.  A few minutes later, she heard the hooves of many horses as riders rode into the yard.  Victoria cocked the pistol and moved in a protective crouch over Blue.

"Hello the house!" a man's voice called out.  "Ya'll all right in there?"

Boots thumped on the porch as a man walked up to the door.

"Anybody home?" the voice said again.

"Who is there?" she replied, pointing the pistol at the door.

"Help, ma'am," the man's voice said with a slight southern drawl.  "My men and I were happening by down the road a piece and we heard all the shootin'.  Rode over here quick to see what was going on, and we saw them Apaches shooting at the house.  We drew our guns and opened up on 'em.  They was too busy trying to get to you to see us coming, so we hit 'em from behind pretty hard.  Must have surprised 'em, too, 'cause they skedaddled right quick."

"They are gone?" she asked, not daring to hope.

"Yes, ma'am.  Ran away like jackrabbits.  We got a couple of 'em, though.  Ya'll all right in there?"

"We have one wounded," Victoria replied.  "The others who are outside.  Are they safe?"

There was a pause.

"I'm afraid not, ma'am.  You got one dead one here in the yard.  There's two more over by the bunkhouse.  Apaches shot 'em coming out the front door.  Sorry, ma'am."

Tears blinded Victoria as she thought of the hired hands.  Three men had died to protect her, and she had never known their names.  She wondered suddenly where John was, and her wonder was touched with anger.  He was supposed to have been home by now.  How was she going to tell him that three of his hands had been killed, and his only son severely wounded?  Where were Buck and Manolito?

"If'n you need some help, lady, I got me a few men with some medical savvy," the man said.  "It ain't much, but we'd be happy to oblige."

Victoria stood, opening the door a crack to peer out.  A man with a kind face and a concerned expression stared back at her and smiled.  He had a friendly smile, and was clean-shaven.  Though dressed as any ordinary cowhand, he seemed to have a calming influence.  He used the barrel of the rifle in his hands to nudge the front of his hat up as he nodded at her.

"Howdy.  Ya'll all right?"

"Yes, but my husband's son, he is hurt," Victoria replied, as she lowered the Colt's hammer and stepped back to open the door.  Her eyes went out into the yard, where she saw several mounted men, all holding rifles as they looked at her in the twilight.

"Where's this wounded fella?"

"Over here," she said, stepping aside as the man entered and went to look at Blue.  Outside, the others began dismounting and tying their horses up.  Victoria started to step toward the man just and a loud high-pitched scream froze her in her tracks.

"That's him!" Mark screamed from the kitchen doorway.  "That's the man who shot my pa!"

Victoria started to bring the gun up again, her thumb trying vainly to cock the hammer, but the gun was heavy and the man reacted too fast.  He used the barrel of his rifle to knock the pistol from her hand and then he pivoted, back-handing with his right arm, slapping Victoria hard across the face.  She cried out and staggered, stumbling and falling, seeing stars as she recoiled from the violence of the blow.

"Leave her alone!" Mark yelled from the kitchen doorway.

"Come here, kid," the man said.  "I've got something for you."

She heard Mark scamper back into the kitchen, as more boots sounded on the porch and men began to enter the front door.

Sod Chambers reached grabbed Victoria by her hair and pulled.  She gasped in pain but rose to her feet as he yanked her about, and Chambers laughed as his men piled into the living room around her.

"Hello, Sweetheart" Chambers said with a grin.  "Well, ain't you pretty!  You sure got some nice legs.  Saw 'em when you fell on the floor."

He looped the Winchester behind her back at the waist and pulled her close, letting go of her hair to cup at her breasts.  Victoria slapped him as hard as she could.

Chambers let go of her as he turned his face away from her slap, then he looked at her, frowned, and smashed a wicked open hand across her face.  His blow was far more powerful than hers, and Victoria almost lost consciousness as she was knocked to the floor again.

Chambers pushed her over onto her back, straddling her with his boots, then squatted above her as he pulled a knife from a belt and pressed it against the hollow of her throat.

"That ain't no way to treat someone who just rescued you," he said softly, his eyes dangerous.  "Try that again and I'll carve you like a Christmas goose."  His eyes softened then, and he grinned.  "A pretty thing like you needs love, honey, not a beating.  And I got lots of love to give a spicy little thing like you."

"That's the certain truth," said another man, a big man with a black beard.  "We all got a little lovin' to give her.  Likely she ain't had a real man in quite a spell."

"Who are you?" Victoria demanded through swelling lips, mustering as much dignity as she could, given the pain in her face and the knife at her throat.  Her lips were bleeding, numb from the impact.  Chambers reached down and wiped the edge of her mouth, then inspected the blood on his finger.  He brought it to his own lips and licked it off, relishing the taste of it.

"Name's Sod Chambers, Sweety," he said after a moment.  "And you are a delicious little thing.  But the fact is, I only came for that boy in yonder."

"You killed his father!" Victoria replied.

"Now, that just plain ain't true," Chambers replied matter-of-factly.  "Truth is, his pa's alive.  I come here to fetch him back."

"You are lying."

Chambers knelt very low over her, holding the knife to her throat, and Victoria stared at him silently as he kissed her cheek.

"Now, maybe I am, and then again maybe I ain't," he said, then he abruptly stood up.  "Are you willing to take that chance?  Boy, you come out of there!"

"Run, Mark!" Victoria yelled, and Chambers turned around and shoved her head against the floor.  She saw stars again as the back of her head hit the hard tiles.

"You shut up!" Chambers warned, his voice turning to hot venom.  "Here's the deal, lady.  You let me finish what I come for, let me take that boy back to his pa, and my men and I will leave you alone to doctor that wounded kid on the couch.  You buck us, though, and we might just have to take out our displeasure on that wounded fella.  You ain't really got much choice.  Trust me, and the kid gets returned to his daddy.  Fight me, and you'll have to bury your wounded friend there.  Your best bet is to cooperate.  What do you say?"

Victoria sniffed and turned her head away, refusing to look at him.  Chambers only smiled and turned to look at the bearded man.

"Boyle, kill that fella on the couch," he said.

The bearded man kicked the couch over, tumbling Blue onto the floor, then he grinned as he pulled his pistol.

"No!" Victoria screamed, struggling against Chambers.  "I will cooperate!"

"You gonna do like we say, woman?"

"Si.  Please, do not hurt him!"

"Fine."

Chambers looked at the bearded man and nodded.  Boyle Collins sighed and put his gun back in the holster, then kicked Blue savagely in the ribs.  Blue grunted in pain and fell off the couch onto the floor.

"Stop it!" Victoria yelled.

"That's just a little reminder," Chambers told her.  "Cross me even a little and he gets a lot more of the same.  Comprende?"

"What is it you want?" Victoria asked slowly.

Chambers replaced his knife in his belt before answering.  "Like I said, I only come to take the boy to his father.  What do I want?  Just a little hospitality, I reckon.  It's been weeks since my men had a home-cooked meal, ma'am.  Man sorta gets lonely for a woman's cooking.  I reckon what we want is a hot meal."

"The boy's father…he is really alive?"

"Sure as I'm standing here," Chambers said.  "Sawbones over to Bisbee has him.  Of course, he's all laid up with a busted leg, but that's why I got sent to take the kid back.  I sure ain't got the time to fight with you, lady."

Victoria did not believe him, though a part of her wanted to.

"You promise to take the boy to his father?" she asked, searching his face.

"Yep," he replied.

"And you will leave Blue unharmed?"

"Is that the wounded fella's name?  Blue?  Strange name.  Is he a sad sort, or something?"

"Do you promise?"

"Yeah, I promise.   Look, lady, I done went and rescued you from Apaches, and then you up and tried to shoot me.  All I want to do is take that kid and return him to where his pappy is.  All my men want is a hot meal and a little hospitality.  Now, is that so danged much to ask?"

Victoria searched his eyes for duplicity, but she was not sure if he was lying or not.  He did seem to be telling the truth.  But why was he being so violent?

"Then will you leave us in peace?" she asked.

"Sure as the sky's blue, ma'am.  Swear on a stack of bibles."

Victoria did not know what to say.  Impatient, Chambers walked away and stood by the entrance into the kitchen.  "Boy," he yelled, "I come to tell you that your pa's alive.  You hear me?  He's alive!  Doc over to Bisbee has him.  He's gonna be fine, boy.  He wants to see you.  He sent me here to fetch you to him."

"You shot him," Mark's voice replied angrily.  "I saw you shoot him!"

"I know you believe you saw me shoot him, boy, but I didn't," Chambers replied.  "It was all a trick.  A ruse, to throw off them Apache.  Didn't you ever wonder why your pa brought you all the way out into Arizona, way off the beaten trail, just you and him?"

"We were going to Sonora," Mark muttered.

"Yeah, I know.  Going to Sonora.  Takin' a horse to a friend.  Don't that seem just a bit odd to you, boy?  All that way, just to deliver a horse?"

"It was for a friend of ours," Mark whined.

"Naw, that was just our cover story, son," Chambers replied sadly.  "Your pa and I, well, we was workin' together.  Working for the law, you might say.  We got us an assignment from the Army.  They wanted us to find them some renegade Apaches what was buying guns from traders.  Your pa and me, we were selected by the Army commander at Fort Bowie hisself.  We had planned to meet up there by Apache Peak, but unfortunately, you and your pa stumbled upon us right in the middle of a setup.  We was all under cover, puttin' on our gun-running act.

"It was bad timing on your pa's part, when ya'll rode up.  If I hadn't done something, those Apaches would have killed you for sure.  I knowed who your pa was the second he rode up, and he knew he was in trouble, too.  We had to make it look real good, so he jumped off that cliff while I pretended to shoot him.  It worked, too.  Them Apaches thought he was dead.  I missed him, of course, but he got busted up in the fall off that cliff.  We came back later and hauled him to the Doc down in Bisbee, but he's going to be okay."

"Then why did you give me to the Apaches to kill?" Mark yelled through the kitchen door.  "If you're so all-fired friendly, why did you tell them to torture me?"

"Well, we knowed they wouldn't do that," Chambers said casually.  "We had us some good Apaches in that bunch, ones that was helping us catch the renegades.  Them's the ones I gave you to.  I knowed they wouldn't really hurt you.  Think about it.  Weren't there a few friendly Apaches who protected you?"

"Yeah," Mark's voice said, hesitatingly.

"Well, there you go," Chambers continued.  "You think that was accidental?  Them friendly Apache were in on it.  Shortly after we rode off with the bad ones, we knowed they'd take you to their camp and take care of you, at least until your pa could send for you.  Just yesterday, in fact, the Army captured most of the bunch we identified up there.  We was following the few who got away when we trailed them here to this ranch."

"How did you know I was here?"

"We didn't, until the telegraph from Bisbee came.  We was in Tucson, and Bisbee wired you was out here.  Seems like someone back east told 'em."

"North Fork?"

"Yeah, that's it.  North Fork.  The law there sent word to you pa and he sent word to us.  We would've gone to Cochise's band, but the telegraph said you was living out here with the Cannons on a ranch called the High Chaparral.  We asked a few people in town and they told us where to find the ranch, and about how short-handed they were here.  We just happen to cut the trail of them renegade Apaches on the way out."

The kitchen door cracked slightly, and a big brown eye peeked out.

"Is my pa really alive?" Mark asked tentatively, wanting fiercely to believe.

"Yes, boy.  He really is.  We need to get going tonight if we want to be halfway to Bisbee by tomorrow."

There was a thumping sound and the kitchen door opened, and Victoria's heart ached when she saw the tears streaming down Mark's face.  He stepped out, rubbing his cheeks, and she fought the urge to rush forward and take him up in her arms.

"See, look, boy," Chambers said softly, almost tenderly now.  "I have your pa's rifle.  The one you saw me shoot him with.  He wanted me to bring it with me, to show it to you, so you'd know he really sent me.  He said you'd know this rifle anywhere."

"That's pa's rifle, all right," Mark agreed.  "Are we really riding to Bisbee tonight?"

"I said we were, didn't I?" Chambers replied with a grin.

"And you and pa were working for the Army?"

"Sure, we were.  Look here."

Chambers reached in the pocket of his vest and produced a small rectangle.  He turned the object over so that Mark could see the twin sets of paired bars embroidered on the top.

"See that, boy?  That's the rank of an Army captain.  It's my rank, when I'm not in civilian clothes.  I'm army, all the way."

"Then Pa's really alive."

"He sure is."

Mark hopped up and down a few times before becoming self-conscious about it.  Victoria stared around in confusion.  The man seemed to have all of the right answers, but they did not explain why he had felt compelled to rough her up or kick Blue.  Nor did it explain his familiarity with her.  On the other hand, Mark seemed to believe him now that the man had calmed down and was acting friendlier.

Had she shaken him up by trying to cock the pistol?   She wondered what she should do.  She had seen Chamber's eyes switch from those of a snake to those of a dove far too fast to suit her suspicions, and she was still distrustful and furious with the man.  For now, however, perhaps it was best to play along and see what happened.  She started to step forward toward Mark, to take him into her arms and talk to him, but Chambers quickly stepped between them.

"Stay out of this and everything will be all right," Chambers whispered to her.  "You cause any trouble and that man on the floor will pay."

Her eyes moved instantly toward Blue.  The heavy bearded man sat on the couch, resting his feet on Blue's unconscious body as he casually picked his fingernails with a large Bowie knife.  The man was surely lying.  She felt it in her bones, but there was little she could do about it.  To resist would possibly result in her getting Blue killed.  By remaining passive, however, she might get them to allow her to help Blue.

As long as we are alive there is still hope, she told herself.  If we can hold out long enough, John will return home, and then we will see who pays for this.

"I will go and make coffee," she said sullenly, and stepped into the kitchen.

"Good, that's more like it," Chambers yelled after her. "Some beans and some of them tortilla things you Mex people like, that'd be good, too.  Ol' Boyle there, he's kinda partial to them tortillas."

Victoria turned slowly at the kitchen door.

"Will you be staying for supper?" she asked coldly.

"Well, I'll take a plate or two and then me and the boy are riding out," Chambers told her, his smile charming again.  "It's a long way to Bisbee, you see, and me and the boy have a few accounts to settle."

Mark put on his hat and stepped toward the door.

"I'm ready to go and see my pa," he said firmly.  Chambers chuckled.

"Ain't you hungry, kid?"

"I had a sandwich before the Apaches attacked.  You sure the Apaches have gone?"

"Weren't no more than eight, ten tops," Chambers replied.  "Yeah, they're long gone.  Now, why don't you just go on out there and saddle you a horse, boy."

Mark nodded and started out the door, pulling up short as he saw the dead guard lying in the yard.

"It's okay, boy, them Injuns got him," Chambers told him.  "Don't you worry none, he can't hurt you.  Go on and get that horse saddled.  Go on!"

Mark hesitated, then stepped off the porch into the darkness.  Chambers looked after him a long moment, grinning, then turned toward his men.

"You boys help her see after that wounded fella, will ya?  Boyle, step out here on the porch with me.  We need to jaw a little."

Boyle stood on Blue with his boots before stepping off, his Bowie knife in hand as he followed Chambers out onto the porch.  Victoria kept her face emotionless as she turned and went into the kitchen.

"You really riding out with that kid?" Boyle Collins asked.

"Yep."

"I don't get it, Sod.  Why not just put a bullet in that kid and be done with it?  Then we could kill that other fella, take that woman a few times, and be halfway to the border by sunup."

"Oh, call it poetic justice," Chambers replied with a smile as he stared out into the night, listening to Mark saddle a horse.  "I shot the father out in the desert.  Only fits that I kill the son right there beside him."

"You're loco, Sod.  That's a damned long ride."

"I got the time, Boyle.  I want to make sure this kid's dead this time.  I want to personally plant him in the ground.  I ain't gonna have him come back to haunt me a second time.  I want to be sure this time, and I want to bury him where he will never be found."

Boyle frowned and spat in the dust.

"I still don't know why you don't just slit all of their throats right now," he said sourly.

"Too easy," Chambers replied.  "Besides, you do want a hot meal, don't you?  Best you get on that pretty lady's good side if you wanna eat.  At least until supper's over."

Boyle looked Chambers in the eye.

"And after that?"

"Well, I reckon you can share her between you for a while.  When you've finished with her, make sure she can't talk.  Make it look like Apaches did it.  Don't kill the wounded fella until you have her scalp tied on your belt.  That way, she'll cooperate and you'll get to use her a lot longer.  But you boys need to light a shuck outta here long before mid-day tomorrow, or them ranch hands will come back and you'll have a fight on your hands.  If'n I was you, I'd eat me some supper before you started making sport with the cook.  I'm kind of sorry I'll miss that.  She's awful pretty.  I could use me a little time makin' love to a woman like that, but I'll leave her to you boys.

"Remember, after you slit her throat, make it look like Injuns did it.  If the law or the Army comes by, I want them going after them Chiricahua, not after us.  Same for the hands when they get back.  Leave a trail right back to them Apache camps in the Dragoons.  Shouldn't be too hard, Boyle.  We already faked one Apache raid tonight, and a rescue.  Leaving an Apache trail should be easy for you."

Boyle nodded and wiped the Bowie's blade along one cheek.  He bit his lip as he thought of the beautiful woman with the raven hair working in the house.  Tonight she would be his.  Tonight she would fight and squeal in his arms.  He could almost taste her already.  "Where will we be riding to meet up with you?"

"Head to Mexico," Chambers replied softly.  "It's getting a little too hot for us on this side of the border.  We'll ride south, and with any luck we can get ol' Juh blamed for this raid on the High Chaparral.  Killing those two in there is likely to raise quite a ruckus on this side of the border.  We'll head down into Sonora and let them Apaches take the heat for it.  Ain't that a hoot?  Serve 'em right for not killing that kid like I told 'em to."

"What about Cannon and his hands?" Boyle asked.  "He ain't likely to be fooled, since you sent him off yonder on a snipe hunt.  He'll figure you were in on it, and when he finds out we killed his woman and son, then—"

"He'll think it was Apaches, too," Chambers replied.  "If you do it up right.  Shoot some of them Apache arrows we have into the wood of the house.  Burn the bunkhouse.  Make sure you scalp and butcher these two and those three dead men out there.  Mutilate 'em, too, like Injuns do.  And when you ride out, cover the horses' hooves with buckskin or rags.  Makes 'em look unshod.  He'll be fooled, too, if you do that.  Don't worry so much, Boyle.  As for the woman, well, she ain't no white woman, Boyle, she's Mex.  Ain't likely no white folks are gonna raise no stink over a dead Mexican woman, even if she is John Cannon's gal."

"I gotta hand it to you Sod, you sure think on your feet," Boyle told him after a moment.  "Making up that story to decoy Cannon off all the way to nowhere, and then making up that yarn to get the kid to go along with you.  I actually think they bought that line of hogwash you fed 'em."

"Maybe."

Boyle's eyes drifted down to the Winchester in Chambers' hand.

"You gonna shoot the kid with his pa's rifle?"

"Now, that would be too cruel," Chambers replied.  "Here.  You keep it until you meet up with me down in Sonora.  I don't need this rifle to kill a sodbuster's kid."

He tossed the rifle to Boyle, who caught it, admiring it in his right hand.

Mark rode up into the light on a big dun.

"I'm ready."

"I will be in a moment," Sod said, and he stepped into the house, returning a moment later with a handful of fresh corn meal tortillas.  "Okay," he said, mounting his horse.  "Let's ride to Bisbee, boy.  Your pa's sure gonna be glad to see you."

Boyle stood in the darkness on the porch, admiring the Winchester in his hands as Chambers and Mark McCain turned their horses and rode away into the darkness, making for the main gate.  Boyle watched them go, and he casually loaded .44-40 cartridges into the rifle until it was full.  Satisfied that all was well, he turned and entered the door.

The first thing he was going to do was get a hot meal, and after that he was going to get him a hot Mexican gal.

The door closed behind him as he entered the ranch house, throwing the sandy yard into darkness.

After a long moment of silence, the crickets began chirping again.

V

HIGH CHAPARRAL RANCH, EAST OF THE HACIENDA

It had been a long, hard ride that day for Lucas and Manolito as they had headed toward the ranch house of the High Chaparral, and they had not covered the distance as quickly as they had hoped.  Now, the sun was setting in the west, and they were still east of the ranch house.

They had been forced to walk Manolito's horse much of the way, to keep it from giving out trying to carry both riders in the hot sun.  Now, as they rode the tired stallion toward the lights of the ranch, Manolito became more animated.

"It will be good to have a decent meal and a bed to sleep in tonight, my friend," Manolito said, and Lucas nodded.

"Sure will.  I haven't had a decent meal in weeks.  It'll also be nice to get to shave and wash up for a change."

"I would imagine," Manolito agreed, his cheeks dimpling.  He pulled the canteen from his saddle horn and handed it back to Lucas.  "Here, amigo, you need to keep drinking."

"It's funny how important the little things are out here," Lucas replied, taking the canteen.  "Things like shade…and water."

The sunlight faded and twilight arrived, and they rode through the afterglow of sunset as the stars began to twinkle overhead one by one.  Gradually, darkness fell.

"I wonder what all that shooting was we heard earlier," Lucas said.

"I do not know," Manolito replied, guiding the horse toward the gate.  "All looks calm at the ranch, however.  Perhaps someone was shooting at targets."

"Sounded more like a war to me," Lucas said.

Lucas stared at the ranch house as they rode through the gate in the darkness, admiring the front porch of the low-set hacienda, the placement of the corral and the bunkhouse.  It was a big spread, far bigger than his own.  Pausing, he looked up, admiring the size and height of the windmill in the yard.  A windmill such as he could never afford on his own ranch.

"Looks like quite an outfit," Lucas said in admiration.

"The biggest in southern Arizona," Manolito said proudly.  "John Cannon does not do things in a small way.  He will have a cattle empire here, someday."

"Looks like he has one now," Lucas replied.

Suddenly, Manolito stopped the horse and dismounted, staring around suspiciously.

"What's wrong?" Lucas asked.

"Something strange.  There is no guard on the windmill.  Yet, there are many horses at the rail in front of the house."

"Maybe it's this John Cannon and his men."

"No, those horses are not from the High Chaparral," Manolito replied, watching the house closely.  "All seems quiet, however.  Perhaps they are the horses of my father's men.  My father had mentioned that he would be visiting us in June in his letter last month.  Perhaps he has finally come, but I cannot see their brands in the dark."

"So, why do you think the lookout's not on the windmill?" Lucas asked.

Manolito shrugged.

"There's no telling," he sighed.  "Sometimes my father, he likes to throw a party.  Sometimes he invites all of the hands to come inside for supper.  If John Cannon is not here to enforce discipline, there are times when my father's…ah, exuberance, can overwhelm even the best of ranch hands."

Lucas grinned.

"So, you think we're in time for the party?"

Manolito paused and tied his horse to a rail.

"I do not know," he said, knocking his hat off the back of his head so that it dangled by its straps.  "But if they are having a party, they are being very quiet for Montoyas.  Come inside, and I will introduce you to my sister, and her husband, if he is home."

Lucas dismounted and stretched, then stepped up on the porch to follow Manolito inside the door.  Manolito went to the leftmost of two wooden doors and pulled it open, then stepped inside.

A gun butt smashed Manolito across the back of the head as soon as he entered the doorway, and he collapsed in a heap.

"Manolo!" a female voice screamed, and Lucas burst into action, slamming the door shut hard, then yanking it open again almost instantly.  A smaller man staggered away, stunned by the sudden impact of the door.  He held a gun in his hand, butt forward, as he tripped over Manolito's body.

Lucas grabbed the arm holding the gun with his left hand, and his right grabbed a bunch of the man's shirt and shoved.  The man gasped as Lucas picked him up off the floor and threw him bodily into an adobe wall.  The man's pistol tumbled out of his hand as the breath was smashed from his lungs.  Lucas turned to pick up the gun and a voice froze him in place.

"You touch that gun, mister, and you're a dead man," a deep voice boomed.

Lucas froze, moving only his eyes up as someone brought a lamp up to full brightness.  A fire blazed in a fireplace to the right, and Lucas made out several men standing around the room.  Another lay wounded on the couch, bandaged and unconscious.  Lucas fixed his eyes on the apparent leader, a wide-shouldered man with a black beard that reached to his chest.  His eyes then dropped to the rifle the man held pointed at his belly, and he instantly recognized it as his own.

A beautiful Mexican woman rushed past the bearded man, holding an apron in her hands as she rushed to the side of Manolito, chattering in Spanish as she checked his head for injury.

"Hold up there, woman," the bearded man growled.  "Red, get that vaquero's hogleg."

A red-haired man stepped forward and yanked Manolito's Colt from its holster.  The man whom Lucas had body slammed into the wall slowly stood and dusted himself, glaring at Lucas with hate-filled eyes.

"I think this feller needs cuttin' down to size," the small man said.

"Not by you," the bearded one replied.  "He's got a hundred pounds on you, Buckeye.  Red, take a gun and get outside up there on the windmill, where that guard was before you shot him.  I don't want anyone else coming in here unannounced."

"Sure, Boyle," Red replied, pausing at the door to look Lucas up and down.  "Well, I'll be," he exclaimed.  "It's that sodbuster Sod kilt some days back.  Looks like you're going to get a chance to kill him all over again, Boyle."

Lucas realized he had found the gunrunners in one sudden bitter instant.  Boyle and the others began to laugh, and Lucas knew he had jumped out of the frying pan and right into the fire.

Somebody was about to get burned, and it looked like it was going to be Lucas McCain.

Use your browser back arrow to return to Stalk the Chaparral

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1