The Winchester Run Page 21

  “I don’t know,” said Haze, “but I wouldn’t judge all the military, based on what we encountered here at Fort Griffin. When we reach the Colorado, we’ll be assured of water all the way to Austin. That means we can keep the outfit together, tightening our defense.”

  “Perhaps I’m worrying for nothing,” Elizabeth said, “but it seems like every time I try to be happy, things go wrong.”

  “Maybe not this time,” said Haze, but he had his own misgivings.

  “It’s your turn to scout ahead,” Mac told Haze. “If you’re fortunate enough to find our water for today within ten miles or less, see what you can find for tomorrow.”

  When the wagons took the trail, Haze rode south, Elizabeth riding beside him.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

  “I don’t mind,” said Haze. “Glad to have you.”

  They had ridden only a few miles when Haze reined up, Elizabeth beside him.

  “We’ll rest the horses and stretch our legs,” Haze said.

  They walked about a hundred yards to the east, returned to the horses, and walked an equal distance to the west.

  “You’re not stretching your legs,” said Elizabeth. “You’re looking for something. What is it?”

  Haze laughed. “You’re becoming a Western woman. All right, I am looking for something. I haven’t forgotten those two men who rode out early this morning, and I’m looking for tracks. I know they rode to the southeast, but they could just as easily have changed directions, once they were well away from the fort.”

  “You think perhaps they have a gang somewhere ahead of us?”

  “We can’t be sure that they don’t,” said Haze. “I figure the closer we get to Austin, the less likely that we’ll be attacked.”

  “But we’re still a long way from Austin, aren’t we?”

  “Yes,” Haze said. “They could hold off, attack us somewhere along the Colorado, and still prevent us from reaching Austin.”

  “And you told me not to worry,” said Elizabeth. “If you’re not worrying, what do you call it? Is there a Texas word for it?”

  “You’d think of it as worrying,” Haze said, “but in Texas, it’s not quite the same. We don’t actually worry about all hell bustin’ loose. We just keep our eyes open and our guns handy, and let the rough end drag.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I’m going to like Texas, if I ever get used to its ways.”

  “It’s time we was ridin’ on,” said Haze. “If we don’t find water within the next two or three miles, we may be facin’ a dry camp.”

  Eventually they came upon a clear, fast-flowing creek.

  “We’ll rest and water the horses,” Haze said, “and then I want to scout a ways up- and downstream.”

  “How far have we ridden?”

  “Near fifteen miles,” said Haze. “The teams will have to rattle their hocks to get the wagons here before sundown.”

  When the horses had rested, Haze led them to the creek for water. He helped Elizabeth mount, then straddled his own horse, and they rode upstream several miles. There was no sign, and they returned to their starting point.

  “We’ll ride downstream a ways, just to be sure,” Haze said.

  The ground was littered with dead leaves from the trees and bushes that lined the banks of the creek.

  “I can’t even see the ground, most of the time,” said Elizabeth. “If there are tracks, how are you going to find them?”

  “I may not be able to,” Haze said. “Men who are up to no good can hide their tracks, but if they’ve spent a day or two in one place, it’s hard for them not to leave some sign.”

  They had ridden almost two miles downstream, along the north bank, when Haze suddenly reined up.

  “What is it?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Maybe nothing,” said Haze. “Wait here.”

  The creek was shallow enough, and he walked his horse across. Dismounting, he knelt down and picked up something from the clutter of brittle, fallen leaves.

  “Come on across,” Haze said.

  Elizabeth walked her horse across the creek and reined up, studying the oval bit of paper Haze held in his hand.

  “Tag from a sack of Durham,” said Haze, “and it ain’t been here long. Come on.”

  They rode away from the creek, still heading downstream, but in a half-circle toward the southeast.

  “Where are we going now?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I’m gambling that somebody rode in from the south,” said Haze, “and if that’s the case, we should cross the trail.”

  As they rode farther from the creek, the trees and bushes thinned out, diminishing the fallen leaves that littered the ground. Haze reined up.

  “The ground’s bare enough for tracks,” Elizabeth said, “but it looks hard as stone.”

  “It likely is,” said Haze, “but I aim to look.”

  He dismounted, hunkered down, and began studying the ground. Finally he mounted his horse, nodded to Elizabeth, and they rode off to the south. Eventually they reached a barren stretch where even Elizabeth could see tracks leading north.

  “Perhaps they were soldiers from Fort Griffin,” Elizabeth said hopefully.

  “Maybe,” said Haze, “but I don’t think so. There were at least a dozen riders, and at most, there’s seldom more than ten men in a patrol. With most forts undermanned, there’s usually less. But we’ll find out.”

  They rode back to the point where they had first approached the creek, crossed it, and then began riding a half-circle to the southeast. They crossed several stretches of bare ground where there was no sign, but when they reached a clearing where there were few leaves, Haze reined up. The tracks were plain enough.

  “Two horses heading north,” Elizabeth said. “Bad news.”

  “Damn right,” said Haze. “That’s the two varmints that left the fort this morning.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “It looks damned suspicious,” Mac said, when Haze told him of the sign he had found, “especially when two riders apparently rode on to the fort. That could very well be the same two hombres that rode out early this morning.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Haze, “and the fact that they rode southeast could mean that the whole bunch aims to come after us somewhere along the Colorado.”

  “Maybe,” Mac said, “but we can’t be sure of that. They need only wait until we’re far enough south of Fort Griffin so that there’s no chance of being discovered by soldiers on patrol.”

  “One other thing,” said Haze. “I almost forgot about the water. The creek we have to reach is a good fifteen miles south of Fort Griffin. We didn’t ride beyond that.”

  “We’ve still got ten miles ahead of us, then,” Port Guthrie said.

  “At least that,” said Mac. “The teams have rested enough. Let’s move out.”

  Among the outfit there was only grim determination. The prospect of yet another band of outlaws planning to seize the wagons was enough to sober them all. They pushed the teams as much as they dared, resting less often, and managed to reach the creek barely before dark.*

  “Go ahead with the cook fire,” Mac said. “That bunch knows we’re coming. I reckon it won’t matter if they smell the smoke from our fire. We’ll continue with three watches, same as before.”

  As she had so often done before, Trinity found Mac at his post shortly after midnight. But this time was different, for she had her Winchester, fully loaded.

  “We all talked about it,” Trinity said, “and reached a decision. If the third watch is the most dangerous, then we’ll stand it with you from here on to Austin. We can shoot, and we’re all armed. We were tenderfeet when we reached Dodge, but we weren’t as green as we might have been.”

  “No,” said Mac, “and the time may come when you’ll be mighty glad you have those Winchesters. There’s no guarantee we’ll be attacked at night. The attack could come during the day, when we’re strung out on the trail. Keep those Winchesters loaded and handy in the wagon, and
anytime one of you is riding one of the horses, see that your rifle is in the saddle boot.”

  “That’ll be fourteen guns,” Trinity said. “If Haze was right about the number of men, we won’t be outnumbered by much.”

  “Haze is probably the best tracker among us,” said Mac. “That’s one reason I wanted him to scout ahead today. He can track a lizard across solid rock.”

  “Then you had your doubts about the two riders who left the fort this morning.”

  “Yes,” Mac said. “That’s another way to stay alive out here. You watch for anything that seems out of place, a man where he shouldn’t be, a flock of birds that takes sudden flight.”

  “I haven’t forgotten how you and me were captured while searching for water,” said Trinity. “That could happen again, to any of us riding ahead of the wagons, couldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Mac replied, “and I don’t know of any sure and certain way to avoid it, unless the man riding ahead is constantly watching for tracks.”

  “We can’t depend on that,” said Trinity, “with them somewhere ahead of us, can we?”

  “No,” Mac said. “They could flank us, riders east and west a couple of miles out, and with those riders coming together, catch us in a deadly cross fire.”

  “It’s so frustrating,” said Trinity. “All we can do is wait for them to strike, and when they do, we’re always on the defensive.”

  “You’ve just put your finger on our biggest problem,” Mac said. “It’s impossible to win from a defensive position, but there’s no way we can attack. We dare not leave these wagons undefended, and if we split our forces, we risk having one faction wiped out before the two can come together for an effective defense.”

  “I think I understand. It sounds like military talk.”

  “I reckon it is,” said Mac. “I wore the gray, riding with John Mosby. They called him the Gray Ghost. Haze and me learned from him, and it’s kept us alive on the frontier.”

  The wagons again took the trail at first light, and it was Mac’s turn to scout ahead for water. Trinity rode with him, and he noted with approval that her Winchester rode in the saddle boot. The terrain was partially timbered with post oak, cedar, blackjack, and mesquite, eventually giving way to grassy prairie. They looked in vain for a stream, and after riding what Mac believed was twelve miles, eventually came upon the runoff from a spring that flowed from beneath a stone ledge.

  “Not much of a runoff,” Mac said, “but there’s plenty of water in the spring. I think we’ll ride south a ways, and see what we can find for tomorrow.”

  The terrain changed to a succession of valleys divided by hilly limestone ridges. There was a variety of timber, including live oak, post oak, willow, mesquite, and walnut. In the numerous valleys there was lush prairie grass, and in such a valley was the stream they sought.

  “More than a ten-mile drive,” said Mac, “but worth it. The graze will be better as we travel farther south. This is the best so far.”

  The wagons had traveled farther than Mac had expected, and he was quick to praise the teamsters.

  “I reckoned it wouldn’t hurt if we reached water in time to have supper before dark,” Port Guthrie said. “If that bunch is somewhere ahead, they’ll expect us to have a fire, but I don’t favor allowin’ the varmints any kind of edge.”

  Mac laughed. “That’s sound thinking, Port. I reckon the rest of us had better stick to that from here on.”

  The wagons reached the spring in time for the outfit to water the mules and horses and to prepare and eat supper before dark.

  “Starting tonight,” Mac said, “I think we’d better keep two men with the horses and mules. Hombres wantin’ to draw us away from the wagons could do it easy enough, just by stampedin’ our stock.”

  “On the first and second watch,” said Port Guthrie, “that’ll mean just one man with the wagons.”

  “I know,” Mac said, “but Red, Buck, Haze, and me are light sleepers. We won’t shuck anything but our hats. A shout from any one of you, and we’ll be on our feet with guns in our hands in an instant. I still think we need the four of us on the third watch, and I’ll want all of you ready to grab your guns in a second. I reckon none of us will be sleepin’ much until we reach Austin, but if we allow this bunch to take us by surprise, we may all be down for the long sleep.”

  Sixty miles south, near the Colorado, a dozen men gathered around a fire drinking their coffee from tin cups. Sloan, the leader of the bunch, was speaking.

  “I’m sayin’ we don’t make our move until they reach the Colorado. If anybody’s got any objections, sing out.”

  “I got no objection to that,” Jarvis said, “but I ain’t favorin’ what you aim to do with them guns and ammunition.”

  “Me, neither,” said Ringo. “I don’t trust that pair of Mexes—Diaz and Mercado—as far as I could flap my arms and fly.”

  “I got my reasons for dealin’ with them,” Sloan said. “The important one is that when we take over the wagons, we’ll be maybe a hundred miles from the border and San Felipe del Rio.”*

  “It won’t make no damn difference what your other reasons are, if they shoot us all stone dead,” Ringo argued. “I say them wagons don’t cross the border till we git paid, and I mean in gold, not Mexican pesos.”

  There was a shouted chorus of agreement from the rest of the men, and Sloan had to think fast to avoid a mutiny.

  “That’ll be settled when we git to the border,” said Sloan, “and they already agreed to pay in gold. Fifty dollars for a Colt, a hundred for a Winchester, and by God, we’ll git no better offer, even if we had somewhere else to go.”

  “That’s another thing I don’t like,” Jarvis said. “We got no other place to go, and I’d bet my hoss an’ saddle they know it. Once we git there, what’s to stop them from backin’ down on the price? What if the varmints offer us twenty-five dollars for a Colt, and fifty for a Winchester?”

  There were angry shouts from the rest of the men, and Sloan had a difficult time restoring order. When their anger subsided to a murmur, Sloan spoke.

  “Damn it, they want these weapons, and we won’t take less than the prices we agreed on. But just keep one thing in mind. If this deal falls through, we’re stuck with six wagonloads of weapons that’ll be hotter than a brandin’ iron.”

  That sobered them.

  “Hell,” said Carter, “we got to deal with the Mexes. There’s nobody else, except the Comanches, and they’ve been on the run for months. Where would they get enough gold to buy from us, even it they was willin’?”

  There was grumbling among the men as they were forced to consider this possibility. Sloan pressed his advantage.

  “Don’t forget about the army,” Sloan said. “By now, the whole damn world knows of those wagons, of the weapons and ammunition, and that they’re on their way to Austin. If they fail to arrive, how long do you reckon it’ll take the military to begin searchin’ for ’em?”

  “By God, he’s right,” said Dirk. “We got to deal with them Mexes. Let the military catch us with them wagonloads of guns, and we’re dead men. They’ll back us up against a wall and pour enough lead into us to sink a steamboat.”

  “All that’s got to be considered,” Sloan said, “but first we have to take control of the wagons. We’ll wait until they reach the Colorado, until they’ve spent their first night. Then we’ll attack at first light, and we’ll have to kill them all.”

  “They got some right pretty females with ’em,” said Rufe, one of the outlaws who had been sent to Fort Griffin. “Ain’t I right, Zack?”

  “Yeah,” Zack said. “We ain’t told what they done in the sutler’s store.”

  “Then tell us,” said Jarvis. “Them females might be worth keepin’ alive. At least for a while. What about it, Sloan?”

  “Maybe,” Sloan said, not wishing to have another shouting match on his hands. “Our first objective is to get control of them wagons by whatever force it takes. Feisty females can be had in droves
, when you got gold in your pockets.”

  Mac continued taking every possible precaution, but nothing disturbed the tranquility of the nights, as they pressed on toward the Colorado.

  “I know better than to suggest it,” said Red, “but there’s just a possibility that we’ll reach Austin without any more trouble.”

  Haze laughed. “There’s just as strong a possibility that there’s folks in hell, right this minute, havin’ ’em a snowball fight.”

  “Much as I hate to,” Buck said, “I’ll have to agree with Haze. Since leavin’ Dodge, we’ve had our share of outlaw trouble, but none of it because of the telegraph spreadin’ word of these wagons loaded with guns and shells. Now don’t that make sense?”

  “I reckon it does,” said Mac, “as much as I hate to admit it. We’d best be prepared.”

  But as one uneventful day led to another, even Mac began to hope their fears had all been groundless. It was Mac and Trinity who rode out that memorable day and discovered they were less than fifteen miles from the Colorado.

  “Oh, I’m so glad,” Trinity cried.

  “So am I,” said Mac, “but we can’t allow our excitement to override our caution. I’ll feel better if we ride a ways downstream, toward Austin, without finding outlaw sign. But first, we’ll rest and water our horses.”

  There was a light wind from the west. The horses were drinking, when suddenly there was a faint nicker from somewhere downriver. Trinity’s horse raised its head and answered.

  “Trouble,” Mac said. “Mount up and let’s ride.”

  Trinity sprang into her saddle without question. Mac mounted and they rode at a fast gallop back the way they had come. But they were already too late. A few hundred yards downriver, the band of outlaws knew their presence had been revealed.

  “Mount up and ride,” Sloan shouted. “That damn horse give us away. Some hombre’s on his way to warn them wagons. We got to hit ’em before they got time to group and dig in, or we’ll lose our edge.”