Slaughter's way (17 page)

Throwing over the boxes, John Slaughter, Burt Al-vord and Talking Bill leapt toward the rear of the wagon. None of the men who had caught the brunt of the skunk's attack saw, or cared a damn about, the three Texans. None of the others, who only caught the fringe benefits of Mr. Earp's annoyance, realized their danger until far, far too late.

The Texans bounded over the tailgate of what was usually the drive's bed wagon, but which had been converted by means of the painted signs into a passable example of a medicine showman's transportation. Landing before the men. Slaughter sent a bullet into one

of the Mexicans who had not been close enough to get much of the skunk juice and who showed signs of rallying to the situation. An instant later Burt Alvord, an 1860 Army Colt in either hand, cut down another man who thought to join die party.

"Get to the GatlingP Slaughter yelled over the noise and confusion of the starded crowd.

At the front, Hernandez heard the start of the racket and sprang past the heads of the two lead mules, meaning to dash by the wagon and see what was happening to his men. In this he made a mistake, an honest mistake of ignorance it is true, but a bad mistake for all that. Those knobhead mules which drew the wagon were Coonskin's own team, and just about as ornery, contrary and cross-grained as only their kind could be. Among the many things Coonskin's mules would not tolerate was anybody dashing past them on foot. Hernandez discovered this unpleasant trait as a pair of steel-shod hooves smashed into his back, sent witib some predsion by the near-side leader. The force of the kick sent Hernandez flying forward off balance. Luckily for him, the second mule could not get at him. However, he still went forward, driving his head into the side of the wagon. The force of his arrival dropped Hernandez imoonscious; and effectively deprived the ban-didos of the one man who might have rallied them in the face of the surprise attack.

Grabbing up the wicked old eight-gauge shotgun he called Betsy Two-Eyes, Coonskin squeezed off the charge from one barrel at a member of the gang who had been lazing in the tents and came dashing out to investigate. The eight-gauge gun had barrels of almost an inch in diameter and Coonskin loaded his weapon with a handful of black powder topped off by a few piles of 00 size buckshot balls. When he cut loose with the old percussion-fired gun it sprayed lead out like a fire hose squirting water and was a right lethal weapon at up to fifty yards. How lethal the Mexican found out, for he caught enough of the balls to make him lose interest in everything, including life.

Leaving Burt Alvord to cover their rush. Slaughter 132

and Talking Bill raced by the wagon, but they knew enough to keep clear of the mules. Their task was to take die Catling gun. Left on his own, Alvord showed remarkable agility in the way he kicked his feet out behind him, landed flat on his stomach and wriggled back under the bed wagon, his Army Colts bellowing and keeping the bandidos on the hop.

Behind their weapon, the two gunners both grabbed for the firing handle. They saw the racing Texans and recognized lie danger to their well-being. Each gunner had the same idea: to drop the Tejano nearest and most dangerous to his person.

"That onel'^ yelled the gunner at the left, grabbing the barrel of the gun and trying to timi it towards Talking Bill.

**Cet him!" howled the man at the right, also grabbing and trying to save himself from Slaughter.

The words came at the same instant, the men were roughly the same height and weight, so neither managed to swing the gun far enough to protect and save his person from the approaching Texans.

Slaughter fired on the run, which appeared to have little eflFect on his marksmanship. Bringing up his Colt shoulder high, he used the sights instead of chancing instinctive alignment. While the Colt Peacemaker could not be put in the same target-shooting class as a Smith and Wesson .44 Russian revolver, or a Remington Model 1871 single-shot pistol, it could still deliver its bullets with reasonable accuracy on a man-sized target at twenty-five yards.

Struck by a .45 bullet, the man on the right spun around and went down. His cogunner took one scared look at Talking Bill, decided that discretion was the better part of valor and took what Texans called *'a greaser stand-off." Leaving the gun, the man turned and raced off, heading for where tiie horses grazed. He need not have bothered, for Talking Bill was far from being an expert in the use of his Colt. Sure, the gangKng Texan could shoot, but he lacked the inborn coordination of hand and eye necessary to make him a master hand with a six-gun.

With the gunners gone, there was nothing to stop Slaughter and Talking Bill taking over the deserted Gat-ling. Despite his lack of skill with a Colt, Talking Bill knew how to handle a Gading. During the war, the troop he'd ridden with had captured such a weapon from the Yankees and Bill had found himself handling it in action. Apart from the cranking handle being at the rear, there was no basic diflEerence between the lightweight gun he now handled and the old-time mod-del. The gunners had already swung it aroimd and pointed it in the general direction of Coonskiu's wagon, so all Talking BiU needed to do was take a swift glance along the barrel and whirl the handle around. The barrel sheath revolved and as each barrel reached the top of its circle flame spurted out. Dust erupted into the air close to the still-confused and literally, skunked bandidos.

Left without a leader, confused, nauseated by Mr. Earp's well-directed flow, the bandidos could make no effective cohesive action. The Gatling gun stood in a position so it covered them, laying them open before its lead spray if Talking Bill traversed the barrel a few feet to the right. They might have taken cover under the wagon, but Burt Alvord lay imdemeath it with a Colt in either hand, blocking the bandidos' way out.

It was death to resist; but might also be death to surrender. That grim-faced Tejano did not look like a man who would have mercy on people who endangered his cattle.

However, the Mexicans had no real choice. One after another, they discarded their weapons under Slaughter s orders and moved well clear of the pile of firearms and knives.

Much to their surprise, the Mexicans found that they were to be set free. Not a throat would be cut, not a single body swung from a tree or the tailboard of a wagon. Free they might be, but dangerous they were not. Slaughter left them only one rifle and a magazine of bullets for protection—^which was better than they ever gave their victims.

So the Mexicans rode out, taking their still-uncon-134

sdous leader with them in the empty wagon they had hoped to fill with loot. The men headed south, followed from a distance by Biut Alvord. Not that Slaughter expected to see them back at Central Springs, but it was not Slaughter s way to take fooUsh and imnec-essary risks.

It was a well-grazed, healthy, contented herd of cattle that settled down near the springs on the third night after the capture of Hernandez's little toy and the United States' repossession of their territory. A longhom steer lived a hardy and free-ranging Hfe, which left it equipped to not only survive, but to make rapid recovery after a period of privation. Given decent feeding and plenty of water, the leg-weary cattle soon put on weight and recovered their old ornery spirits.

The trail crew also blossomed and flowered in the pleasant surroundings after the grueUng days of dry-driving. All climbed out of their trail-filthy clothes at the first opportunity, bathed in the lake, washed their clothes; some of them even went to the extreme of shaving.

For three days they stayed at Central Springs, relaxing, catching up on sleep, repairing the ravages of the drive. Ahead of them, more than five days away, lay the Came River. However, the drive to the Came would not be anywhere near so diflScult as had the first stage of the crossing of Paradise Basin. While the food might not be the best and such water as they foimd green itself rather than being siurounded by the greenery, it was enough to sustain Ae herd and prevent dry driving. So, all in all, things looked pretty fair for Slaughter's herd.

Burt Alvord had followed the Mexicans for a full day, seeing no sign of them turning back. He did not think they would. Not while Slaughter had possession of Hernandez's Httle toy, the deadly, wicked yet so effective Catling gun, and most of their other arms.

Spirits were high around the campfire on the third night. At dawn they would start trailing their herd to market, but until then they made the most of a well-

earned rest. Coonsldn was called on to describe again how he and Mr. Earp saved the day, then one of the hands fetched out the Negro's banjo and requested that the crew be treated to that classic piece of music, "The Piddling Pup."

**But on and on went that there Bix, Like water flows downhill, But all them fancy city dawgs Was wet to a standstill. Then Bix did freehand piddling. With fancy flirts and flits. Like 'double-dip' and 'gimlet twist,' And all them latest hits.

And all the time this ole hound dawg.

With nary a wing or grin.

Just piddled on right out of town,

Like he had piddled in.

Them city dawgs big meetings held.

To ask 'What did defeat us?'

But that old Bix never let on.

How he had diabetes."

Coonsldn brought the final two verses of the song to an end, gave a professional flourish on his banjo and sat back grinning and accepting the laughter and applause of the cowhands as just tribute to his talents.

So entertained had the cowhands been with Coon-skin's singing that none of them, not even keen-eared Burt Alvord, heard the sound of the approaching horse.

The rider came out of the night, sitting a big, well-bred sabino"^ stallion. Although his clothes were dirty, unkempt and disheveled and he had not washed or shaved in days, Slaughter did not have any difficulty in recognizing the visitor as Luis Hernandez. Nor did Slaughter fail to notice that the bandido leader wore a gun. This did not surprise Slaughter for, of all the

*^Sahino: Horse of a light reddish roan color with a pure white belly.

bandidoSy Hernandez alone had been left his gunbelt. Tliere was something about the Mexican that Slaughter admired, and the rancher had no desire to leave Hernandez unarmed at the tender mercies of the hmnan wolves of his bunch. So Slaughter had rolled up Hernandez's gunbelt and hidden it among the man s belongings.

Now Hernandez had returned, and Slaughter could guess why.

**May I enter your camp circle, senorF' Hernandez called, halting his horse outside the camp as range etiquette demanded.

Xome ahead," Slaughter replied, rising to meet his visitor.

Hernandez left his horse standing with hanging reins and walked forward. A dirty, blood-stained bandage showed from under his hat, but he walked with the easy grace and proud carriage of a top-grade bullfighter.

""Can I offer you coffee and food, senorF" Slaughter asked.

"No, gracias. I have come for satisfaction. You have fooled and beaten me. Humiliated me in the eyes of my men. My honor will not let me go back to Mexico imtil I have been granted the satisfaction of facing you. I trust, senor, that I will not have to lay shame on you by giving the insult?"

All too well Slaughter knew those proud Spanish-Creoles and their iron code of honor. To give him his due, Hernandez had been a bandido on a grand scale. Not for him the petty raiding of small, defenseless villages. He went for big game.

Slaughter did not want to fight, and possibly kill, the man. Yet there was no avoiding the issue. Unless he accepted the challenge, Hernandez would hang on to his trail like a wolf flanldng a buffalo herd, making trouble until he caused a clash. Or he might force the issue by striking Slaughter a blow across the cheek, working on the assumption that Slaughter would be too much of a gentleman to let a blow go unavenged.

It had never been Slaughter s way to sidestep a fight, or put one off if it should be forced on him.

"Take it kind if youTl come clear of the camp,'' he said. "I don t want to spook my herd*"

"As you wish, senor.''

"Go get my night horse. Young Sandy,'* Slaughter ordered, then looked at the circle of faces aroimd him. "If I don't come back, Senor Hernandez isn't bothered."

The men nodded their agreement. Few if any of them fully imderstood what the business was all about. Yet none failed to notice the careful way Slaughter checked his Colt and adjusted his gunbelt.

"Your men are more trustworthy than mine, senor^ Hernandez remarked. "I know your words will be honored."

Young Sandy, the day wrangler, returned with Slaughter's saddled night horse and delivered it to his boss. Then aU the camp sat silent as they watched Slaughter and Hernandez ride side by side out of the camp.

"How'd a man like you get to be a handido?^ Slaughter asked.

"Through necessity, my friend. I saw an arroyo about a mile from here, it will be ideal for oiu: purpose. You remember MaximiUian?"

"Sure, the French ruler sent to Mexico."

^TThat was he. My family decided that he might best bring our revolution-torn and ravaged country together. So we fought for him —and lost. In place of a strong ruler we foimd ourselves under Juarez. A good man, but surroimded by many who were not so good. Our lands were forfeited, my brothers hunted down and killed. I alone survived. And I became a handidoT

"And the Catling gunr

"It has an interesting history, being one of a pair brought into my country by Ceneral Marcus's revolutionaries. Unfortunately the gun was captured by the Covemment forces before it could be put to use. I met the gunners, persuaded them to desert and bring along their gun. It should have made me rich and powerful."

Slaughter did not reply. Having fought for the 138

Confederacy in the war, he knew how it felt to be on a losing side. Yet he had rebuilt his lost fortune, serving as a Texas Ranger to help pay oflF loans from the Blantyre City Bank. By hard work and ability Slaughter had Ufted hdmself up and now was a man of wealth and position. He wondered why Hernandez, who clearly was able and courageous, had not tried to do the same instead of becoming a bandido. Maybe it was not so easy for a man to start again below tiie border, for Mexicans, especially the poorer kind who rose to power under Juarez, were notoriously vindictive.