The Winchester Run Read online

  “I can’t imagine anything happenin’ to Mac Tunstall,” Red said. “Not when he’s armed and on a good horse.”

  But something could happen, and did. Russ and Gillis had positioned themselves three hundred yards apart, and when Mac and Trinity rode within rifle range, Gillis fired. While it was only a warning shot, it kicked up gravel. With the force of a bullet, a fragment of it struck the horse Trinity rode, and the animal spooked. It was as wicked a piece of luck as Mac Tunstall had ever experienced, for the horse ran directly toward the thicket where Russ, the renegade leader, was hiding. He leaped to his feet, seized the reins, and brought the horse between himself and Mac Tunstall. Mac had his Winchester cocked, but he had no target. Russ laughed. He then shouted a challenge.

  “Drop the rifle, mister, and then your pistol rig. Do it quick, or the lady gets it.”

  Mac had no choice. He dropped the Winchester, then unbuckled his cartridge belt and dropped it.

  “Now you ride on up here,” Russ commanded, “and do it slow. Gillis, gather up his weapons.”

  Mac reined up a few yards away. He could see the fear in Trinity’s eyes. Russ waited until Gillis arrived with Mac’s weapons.

  “You,” Russ commanded, pointing to Mac, “put your hands behind you. Gillis, tie his hands and tie them tight.”

  Gillis tied Mac’s hands and then looked to Russ.

  “Tie the woman’s hands the same way,” said Russ.

  The renegades then rode north, their captives’ horses following on lead ropes. When they reached the camp, there was jubilation among the men.

  “She don’t look near as tasty, all gussied up, as she did buck naked,” Bilbo observed. “What do you aim to do with ’em?”

  “Swap them for those wagons,” said Russ. “Come sundown, I’ll ride close enough to their camp to make an offer. We get the wagons by dawn tomorrow, or these two will die. That is, if the eleven of you can keep them from escaping until I get back.”

  “Haw, haw,” Bilbo said. “We’ll keep the woman busy, and the hombre can watch.”

  “You’ll keep your hands off the woman,” said Russ.

  “I don’t hold with this hostage takin’,” Wilkerson growled. “It’s already cost us ten men and a damn good hideout.”

  “He’s dead right about that,” said Tull. “You got until in the mornin’ to make your play. After that, the rest of us aim to ambush that outfit and take the wagons.”

  Russ looked from one to the other, and in their eyes he saw the same discontent, the smoldering rebellion.

  “All right,” Russ agreed. “If this don’t work, we’ll attack the wagons.”

  “Now you’re talkin’,” Bilbo shouted.

  There was a chorus of agreement from the others.

  “Now,” said Russ, “take this pair over yonder and rope ’em to a tree. If they manage to get loose, damn it, I’ll have somebody’s head on a plate.”

  Mac and Trinity were forced to sit with their backs against a pair of young pines not more than a few feet apart. Their arms were passed around the trunk, their wrists bound behind it, and only their legs were free.

  “You’re damned poor excuses for men, subjecting a lady to this,” Mac said.

  Bilbo laughed. “This is downright pleasurable, compared to what the lady will likely be facin’ tomorrow mornin’. There ain’t nothin’ much worse’n bein’ dead.”

  Mac and Trinity were left alone, staring helplessly at one another.

  “What do you suppose the others will do,” Trinity asked, “when these outlaws try to make a deal for the wagons?”

  “Red, Haze, and Buck will try to buy some time,” said Mac. “One of these varmints will have to take the message to our outfit. I figure Red, Haze, or Buck will follow him back here. Then they’ll try to rescue us.”

  “But how? Won’t these outlaws be expecting something like that?”

  “Maybe,” Mac replied. “I reckon we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  They soon had their answer, and it was what Mac had feared. Near sundown, one of the renegades saddled a horse for Russ, and he rode near where Mac and Trinity were held captive.

  “I’m takin’ word to your compañeros,” said Russ, “and you’d better hope they’ve got enough smarts to listen to what I got to say. Don’t get any ideas about ’em findin’ the two of you by follerin’ me back, ’cause I won’t be gettin’ there until after dark.”

  He rode away and was soon lost to their view. Trinity looked at Mac in silent despair, and he could think of nothing to say that might lessen it.

  “Something’s wrong,” Haze said. “Even if the Canadian was thirty miles away, they’ve had time to ride there and back twice.”

  “We can’t wait any longer,” said Red. “I’m riding south to look for sign.”

  “Whatever you discover,” Buck said, “don’t try to handle it alone. Light a shuck back here, and let’s make some plans. If Mac and Trinity’s in trouble, you getting sucked into it will just make it tougher for the rest of us to help you.”

  “If it involves Indians or outlaws,” said Red, “there’s no way I can handle it alone. I’ll get back here as quick as I can.”

  “Please be careful,” Hattie said.

  Red rode at a fast gallop, stopping only to rest his horse. Tracks of the horses Mac and Trinity had ridden were easy enough to follow, and before Red had ridden more than a few miles, he came upon the tracks of two other horses trailing Mac and Trinity.

  “Damn,” Red swore aloud. “I know what I’m goin’ to find.”

  He had no trouble finding the place where the two outlaws had holed up, and there was an empty shell case where a shot had been fired. Finally there were tracks of the two horses from the south, and the place where all four horses had come together. The four had not followed the original trail north, but had angled off to the northeast. Red followed the new trail a ways before reining up. He must make a decision. The sun was hardly more than an hour high. If he returned to the wagons, as he had promised, darkness would fall before they could take this new trail. But he had given his word, and with a sigh, he took the trail north. When he reached the wagons, everybody gathered around. While they all wanted to know what he had discovered, they dreaded what he might say.

  “They were ambushed and taken prisoner,” said Red. “Less than ten miles south of us. The trail leads north-east.”

  “Indians or outlaws?” Buck asked.

  “The varmints that took them rode shod horses,” said Red. “It’s got to be those damn renegades.”

  “There won’t be enough time to trail them before dark,” Buck said.

  “No,” said Red. “I should have trailed them instead of coming back here, but you had me promise.”

  “They’re plannin’ to bargain with hostages again,” Haze said, “and that means they’ll have to contact us. When they do, we can trail them to their camp.”

  “Not if they contact us after dark,” said Red. “I have a feeling, after what we did to them before, they won’t be very patient with us.”

  “What can we do?” Hattie cried.

  “Nothing until morning,” said Red. “Unless they contact us, all we have is the tracks of their horses, after they took Mac and Trinity captive.”

  “It’s gonna be an almighty long night,” Haze said.

  But they didn’t have that long to wait. Less than an hour after darkness had fallen, a taunting voice hailed them.

  “You, with the wagons. We got some friends of yours, and we’re ready to trade.”

  Red had been about to pour himself some coffee. He set the tin cup down and moved into the shadows before replying.

  “How do we know you have them?” Red shouted.

  “You know we have,” came the response. “They ain’t come back, have they?”

  “What do you want?” Red responded.

  “You know what we want. Them wagons. You have until first light. When you leave the wagons, your friends go free.”

  “W
hat proof do we have of that?”

  “You got our word,” Russ shouted. “Some of us will be watching you. You got just one hour after first light. Then we shoot your friends, and somewhere along the trail, you can look for us to be waitin’ for you.”

  That was the end of the exchange, and it was Red who finally broke the silence.

  “I was afraid of that. They don’t aim to allow us enough time to plan a rescue.”

  “We could split up and ride in a circle, lookin’ for their camp,” Haze suggested.

  “They’ll counter that by dousing their fire,” said Buck. “Besides, they might be ready for us to do exactly that. If we stumbled on them in the dark, they might just go ahead and shoot Mac and Trinity.”

  “My God,” Elizabeth said, “we must do something.”

  “We will,” said Red. “We’ll abandon these wagons, if we have to.”

  “Sorry,” Port Guthrie said, “but we can’t go along with that. We got nothin’ but high regard for Tunstall and the young lady, but we give our word to Mr. Yeager.”

  There was an uneasy silence, for without Guthrie and the teamsters, Mac and Trinity didn’t stand a chance against the outlaws . . .

  When Russ returned, he had nothing to say to Mac and Trinity, and when he spoke to his comrades, the conversation was for their ears only.

  “I’m dying for a drink of water,” Trinity said. “One end’s dry and the other’s wet. I needed to go to the bushes hours ago.”

  “So did I,” said Mac, “but that’s the least of our problems. Obviously they don’t aim to feed us, but maybe I can get us some water.”

  The fire had been doused, and there was only a soft mumble of conversation from the outlaws.

  “You hombres,” Mac shouted, “we’re in need of some water.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Russ growled. “Open your yap again, and I’ll bend a pistol barrel over your skull. Pryor, take them some water.”

  The outlaw brought two tin cups of water. Trinity drank first, then Mac. Within a few minutes, the outlaw camp became silent.

  “If I ever get loose from this tree,” said Trinity, “I’ll never be able to use my arms or hands again.”

  “I’m in about the same shape,” Mac said. “Try to sleep, if you can.”

  “I don’t think I can,” said Trinity. “How do you rest when you may be spending your last night on earth bound to a tree?”

  “I don’t know,” Mac replied. “I don’t know what Red and the others can do, but I’ll gamble a horse and saddle they’ll try something. As somebody once said, a Texan is never at his best until he’s down to one cartridge and surrounded by Indians or outlaws.”

  “Well, I’m not a Texan,” said Trinity, “and I’m scared to death.”

  The night wore on, and nobody within the wagon camp slept. In their subconscious, each of them could hear a ticking clock, with every second, every minute, every hour, drawing them closer to the appointed time when Mac Tunstall and Trinity McCoy had been sentenced to die. There was no moon, and the stars—distant points of silver—all seemed cold and far away. When the first gray light of dawn painted the eastern horizon, Red, Buck, and Haze had their horses saddled, prepared for they knew not what.

  In the outlaw camp ten miles away, the men were silent, their eyes on Russ. There was no fire, no morning coffee, no breakfast. Russ saddled his horse, mounted, and without a word, rode away. The outlaws watched in silence. Mac and Trinity looked at each other, wondering what the next hour might bring. The Indians struck without warning. A veritable wall of mounted horsemen descended on the camp. Arrows whipped through the early morning silence, and while some of the outlaws died with guns in their hands, not a shot was fired. Within seconds the fight was over. Indians moved among the fallen outlaws, driving lances through those yet alive, taking their weapons and ammunition. Two of the Indians trotted their horses near where Mac and Trinity were bound.

  “One of them is the Indian we doctored in the wagon,” Trinity whispered.

  “I’d gamble the other is Quanah Parker, chief of the Comanches,” said Mac.

  The Indians dismounted, and for a moment stood there looking at Mac and Trinity. The wounded Indian whom Mac had saved from the army nodded. His companion drew a knife and swiftly slashed the rope that bound Mac and Trinity. He backed away, and only then did he speak.

  “You give Little Wolf his life, and now Little Wolf gives you your own. Take your woman and go. Quanah Parker commands it.”*

  * Quanah Parker was born in 1852.

  * Quanah Parker and the last of the Comanches surrendered on June 2, 1875.

  CHAPTER 8

  Within minutes the Indians had vanished, leaving only the two horses Mac and Trinity had been riding. Their Winchesters were in the saddle boots, and looped around a saddle horn was Mac’s pistol belt with its Colt.

  “In a small way, I reckon this proves what I’ve always believed,” Mac said. “Indians treated fairly will respond in kind.”

  “Why can’t the army and the politicians in Washington be told of this?” Trinity asked. “Why can’t they depend on kindness, rather than killing?”

  “Because they all live under a double standard,” said Mac. “Washington has broken every treaty ever signed with the Indians, and for one reason or another, reclaimed every acre of land ceded to them.”

  “It’s all so sad,” Trinity said. “Back east, we believed what we were told, that Indians are savages who kill without cause, and must be eliminated. I have seen more compassion among these savages than I knew existed. Through the years, we have lost something we may never regain. God help us, and them.”

  “It’s too late for them,” said Mac, “and maybe for us. Let’s ride. One of these owl hoots has gone to try and trade us for the wagons. I can’t wait to get my hands on him.”

  Unaware of the Indian attack, Russ reined up within sight of the wagons, but out of rifle range. Red, Buck, and Haze were expecting him.

  “Time’s run out,” Russ shouted. “Your friends for the wagons. Is it a deal?”

  “No deal,” Red shouted back.

  “Then we’ll shoot your friends and take the wagons anyhow,” Russ shouted angrily.

  “You can try,” said Red.

  Russ wheeled his horse, riding back the way he had come. Haze brought two saddled horses for Red and Buck.

  “Damn it,” Haze said, “if we had another horse, I could ride with you.”

  “We need somebody with the wagons besides the teamsters,” said Red. “Besides, we’re already so outgunned, three of us probably wouldn’t make any difference. I don’t know what Buck and me can do, if anything, but we can’t just do nothing. Come on, Buck.”

  Red and Buck had no trouble following the trail Russ had left. It was testimony to the outlaw’s confidence in his position and superior numbers.

  As Russ rode away, he seethed with anger, for he now must concede that he had misjudged the men with the wagons. He must now do what his comrades had urged him to do from the start, and it rankled him. That bunch with the wagons would now be expecting an attack, and they were no short-horns. Suddenly there was a shot, and lead burned a fiery furrow under the outlaw’s left arm. A second shot lifted his hat off his head, and he kicked his horse into a fast gallop, veering to the east. Something had definitely gone sour, for the shots had come from the direction of the outlaw camp! Looking over his shoulder, he could see two horses pounding after him. Mac Tunstall rode the lead horse, a blazing Colt in his hand. Russ rode for his life, unsure as to what had happened to his comrades, aware only of the vengeful rider who seemed to be gaining on him.

  “Listen,” Red shouted. “Shots!”

  “I’d say the varmint that laid down the law to us is havin’ problems of his own,” said Buck. “Maybe we can hand the bastard some more grief.”

  But there were no more shots. Russ pushed his tiring horse and managed to reach a dense thicket. Mac reined up, Trinity behind him.

  “I can’t see trying
to root him out of there,” Mac said. “He could stand us off all day and then escape in the dark.”

  “Then let’s forget him,” said Trinity. “I never expected us to escape with our lives. Let’s not press our good fortune.”

  Turning their horses, they rode back the way they had come, and within just a few minutes, met Red and Buck.

  “My God,” Red shouted, “are we glad to see the two of you.”

  “There’s quite a story to tell,” said Mac. “Let’s get on back to the wagons, and we’ll ease everybody’s mind. Then we’ll share somethin’ you’ll find hard to believe.”

  “We got somethin’ you may find hard to believe,” Buck said. “Yesterday, we come face-to-face with the godawfulest bunch of Indians I ever seen at one time. They took the wounded Indian and rode away.”

  “We know,” said Trinity. “The Indian we helped was Little Wolf. We saw him just a little while ago.”

  There was jubilation among the outfit when Mac, Trinity, Red, and Buck rode in. They all listened in amazement and delight of the Indian raid on the outlaw camp.

  “Trinity and me owe our lives to Quanah Parker and his band of Comanches,” Mac concluded. “The only one of the outlaws to escape was the varmint that rode over here to try and swap Trinity and me for the wagons.”

  “Nothin’ he can do alone,” said Haze.

  “That was somethin’, them Comanches comin’ through for us,” Port Guthrie said. “But I can’t help wonderin’ if they’d rode away and left us, had they knowed these six wagons is loaded to the bows with weapons and ammunition.”

  “You’re wondering if they’d have put greed ahead of honor,” said Mac.

  “Yeah,” Guthrie said.

  “No,” said Mac. “Could you have stopped them, if they had chosen to look into the wagons, to see what they were giving up?”

  “No,” Guthrie replied. “We was at their mercy. I reckon we’ve learnt somethin’ about Indians. It’s just a damn shame this kind of thing couldn’t have happened often enough for that bunch in Washington to learn from it.”