Blue (Ben Blue Book 2) Page 16

  “What have you got left in there, four… five men able to fight? I figure Milo ain’t much good with an arrow in him and a busted head. It sounded like a melon when I thumped it the second time. I doubt he even knows his own name.” With that I turned the sawed off down that shaft and let both barrels go.

  That blast was followed by some really vile yelling and swearing. I presumed that I didn’t hit him, but I sure gave him something to think about. Then I pulled out my handgun and sent a couple of rounds down the shaft aimed at the opposite wall, just so I could hear them pinging around down there. That earned me some more righteous cussin.

  I moved back into my end of the mine shaft and noticed that the sky was turning and morning was upon us. “Ethan,” I called out, and he answered. “There’s a tunnel running into the mine shaft from the cabin. I’m going to stay here and keep them shut up on this end… Make sure somebody’s watchin’ the window on the far end.”

  “I’m on it, thanks Ben. We didn’t know about the other end… Watch yourself.”

  I found myself a nook where I could have some cover and took a tenuous feel around of my left side. The best I could tell was that I had a hole runnin front to back, through the fleshy part of my side. It was above the hip and below the ribs, so if I didn’t have a gizzard or something like that in there, I’d be alright. Sore but alright. I cut off a couple of pieces of my shirt tail and made little rolls, which I stuffed in the holes, hoping to slow down the bleeding. I sure didn’t want to do that again. It made me queasy just thinking about it.

  Crossing over to the other side of the shaft, I retrieved my rifle and Peter’s gun and cartridge belt. I tried not to look at him but I did. I didn’t look again.

  “You in the cabin… This is Deputy US Marshal Claybrook. The cabin is surrounded and we have more men coming. Lay down your weapons, send out your hostage, and come out with your hands up.” I figured he had to say that, even though he knew they wouldn’t do it.

  Rank yelled back, “You go to hell, tenderfoot!” and sent a couple of shots into the bushes, which got a five gun reply.

  On the heels of Rank’s speech and bullet exchange, the man at the far end yelled, “He’s comin out the winder!” Then there was several back and forth shots from that area. A yell was followed by, “Son a bitch shot me in the laig… Dammit!.. that redheaded one’s goin up the mountain.”

  I spotted Rubio crossing the path and disappear into the brush on the upslope. He knew which one had pistol whipped his grandson. Good luck and be careful, my friend. I silently said.

  Claybrook called to the man with the wounded leg. “Spider, tie your leg up real tight above the hole. Try to stop the bleeding, and keep your eyes open.”

  So it was Spider who was wounded. He’s just short of six feet tall and all arms and legs, so that he looks like a big gangly spider. I thought, Don’t worry none, Spider, when you get back to the Rockin T, those Tucker women will nurse you back to health just fine.

  The door suddenly swung open and Paco Ramirez stood with his rifle above his head and yelled, “I come out!” then threw his rifle with both hands to the middle of the yard. “I come out! Bad medicine… bad medicine.”

  He took two or three steps with those big Spanish spurs jingling, and five rifles covering him. Behind him, Milo stepped to the door. His right shoulder was bloody and bandaged. He had a crude and bloody wrap around his head… he looked like hell. His right arm hung at his side and looked useless. His left hand was well above his head and his handgun was dangling from his trigger finger. Without warning he flipped that pistol into firing position and put three shots into Paco’s back.

  “Lousy half breed.” He shouted as the fourth bullet went into Ramirez’s back. At least four of the five rifles aimed at him put lead into him. He jerked and twitched with the impact of each slug. Still he stood, lowered his gun, and re-aligned his aim, on the fallen half breed. Five rifles were heard ejecting shells and cocking, and then fell face down in the grass. All was silent.

  So silent that I had no trouble hearing the crunch of gravel right behind me. I stiffened, and started to turn, but that cold pressure of a Colt on the back of my neck change my mind.

  “Bang you’re dead, tough guy… big man.” The voice of Rankin Williams polluted my ears. “Stand up and turn around… I wanna see your face when you die.”

  “You put a scar on my eye… so I just might put a hole in your’n… Then I might just cut the other’n out.” He had the muzzle of that pistol just inches from my left eye. I was trying hard not to focus on that black hole. I was looking past it and at his face. Rank wasn’t about to make it quick, he wanted to see me squirm and bloodied before I died.

  “Mebe I’ll just give you the makins of a good scar.”He chuckled. “Of course it won’t never make a scar. It won’t have time.” With that he pulled back his gun hand and started to swing that Colt at my face.

  Instead of trying to duck or pull back, I went right into him. I had at least twenty pounds and four inches on him, so he hit the ground under me. I had caught his forearm instead of his wrist, but at least I saved myself from the blow. But the roar of that thing going off within inches of my head was made my ears ring. We were rolling on the floor of that tunnel. I didn’t have a good grip on his gun hand, but I was punishing him enough to keep his attention away from that advantage.

  My right arm was inside his left, and I was banging away at his head with short ill aimed blows while trying to keep his arm pinned to the ground. Finally I just took hold of his ear and tried to pull it off. He screamed bloody murder and started kicking and bucking. He was pounding my head now with his newly released left. I could handle that, but I wouldn’t be able to handle his gun if he realized that he had movement in his wrist. I squeezed harder and pulled harder on his ear.

  I was almost to the point of biting it when he lost all thought of his gun hand. He relaxed it just enough for me to slide my left hand up to his wrist and put the pressure on. I started banging his hand into the ground, trying to dislodge gun, but he was holding tight. As I pulled back a little too far to give it a great slam into the ground, he gave everything he had, and the gun arced swiftly toward my face. All I could do was go with it and push it farther to my right. It went off beneath my chin and singed some of my week’s worth of whiskers.

  The bullet hit the rock wall and banged around from wall to wall. With both our efforts pulling the gun in the same direction, it ended up between us. It was hard to say who was in control. It was even harder to say which way the gun was pointing. I looked into his eyes, and they were not the eyes of a sane person. He suddenly took on a wolfish grin, and I knew what he was going to do. I squeezed and pressed harder and braced for the impact.

  When it came, it was no louder than a loud burp. I felt the searing burning sensation. Rank’s eyes were wide and he was shaking. His mouth opened and his eyes closed tightly. A God awful scream came from somewhere deep within.

  Rolling off the trembling spasmodic form lying on the floor of the tunnel, I quickly pulled my own pistol and leveled it at him. He lay there bouncing and twitching with a nasty looking spread of blood just below the belt buckle. He had shot himself in the groin. I didn’t think there was anything that could be done for him, and I did know what organs were in there. I couldn’t see him living long. I picked up his gun and flung it out of the mouth of the tunnel, then I followed it to the opening. I called out to those who were waiting. “I’m alright, but Rank’s hurt bad. I don’t think he’ll make it long.”

  Then I realized that my shirt front was smoldering from the powder flash of Rank’s gun. When I pulled it out to make sure there was no embers in my pants, I saw fresh blood on the side. I’d started bleeding again. I took a step back to lean against the wall, and my right leg nearly gave way.

  That’s when I felt the pain in the back of my right calf. Probing around with my finger I found a tear in my jeans and a bloody ragged tear in my calf. The only thing I could imagine happening was that
shot that scorched my chin whiskers and ricocheted off the wall came back to get me. I’d been so intent on saving the rest of me that I hadn’t even noticed.

  I looked back at Rank and saw him still laying there bucking and twitching. He was moaning with the rhythm of his bucking. His hands and arms were at his side with his fingers spread and stiff. “Rank,” I said, you’re dying Rank. Do you want me to help you through? Is there anything you want to get off your chest? Do you want to pray?” He never answered. I doubt that he even heard me; he just moaned and twitched.

  I was tying my kerchief around my calf when Ethan Claybrook appeared at my left shoulder. “Marshal Stewart’s gonna owe me for some new clothes.” I told him.

  “I doubt that you’ll collect because I specifically told you to ‘watch yourself’… and you didn’t.” then looking at me, he said, “Ben, you’re a mess… Jesse brought up a couple of horses, and I sent the Spider down to get his leg bandaged… Why don’t you take the other horse and go down to camp and get some attention.”

  “If my calculations are right, there’s only Tom left in the cabin.” I told him. “He’s the most level headed of the bunch, and I might have a chance to talk him out.”

  I thought for a moment and said, “If you’ll call out to him and keep him busy, I can slip down the tunnel and go in the back way. Maybe I can save them both.”

  He didn’t like it, but he agreed that it was our best option. So he moved to the mouth of the tunnel and called out. “Tom… Tom Williams. This is Marshal Claybrook. It’s over Tom…You’re the only one left. Rank is dying. If you want to have a few minutes with him, it can be arranged.”

  From inside the cabin came, “What about Rusty?”

  “He’s on the loose, but there’s an Indian scalp hunter tracking him. I doubt if he’ll last long.”

  “Ben Blue get Rank?... Rank said he was gonna kill Ben. I told him he couldn’t do it, but he was crazy with hatin.”

  “Tom, send out the priest, and toss out your gun.”

  “Can’t do it Marshal.”

  That’s when I pulled back the blanket that covered the tunnel opening and hobbled into the room. I had my gun in hand and was ready for almost anything. They were facing the front of the building and I was behind them. I had a clear shot at Tom’s back, if I was that sort of man. Father Paul was standing in front of Tom at the window.

  “Don’t move Tom. I don’t want to kill you, and I don’t want to get this man killed.” He stiffened, but he didn’t move.

  “That you, Ben? Ha, I knew Rank couldn’t do it. Russell maybe, but not Rank.”

  “Russell’s got his own problems. He pistol whipped the grandson of an old Apache hunter with over thirty Apache and Ute scalps. That old man told me he never took a red one, and he sure wanted one.” He just chuckled.

  “Why don’t you let the padre walk out the front door, and we can talk this over. Man to man.”

  “Why you, Ben? Why did it have to be you? You’re one of the few people I ever took a likin to… I guess it was the way you stood up to my kin and handled my brothers. Why did it have to be you?”

  “Just let him walk out the door, Tom. Please.”

  “Is he kin to you, Ben? What’s so special about him?”

  “He’s not kin, Tom, but he’s a good man, and he does good works. The world needs more men like him. He helped me in a big way when I was only fourteen years old. He was the only steady thing in my life at that time, and I’m not even a Catholic… His friendship saved me from becoming a hardened killer of men, Tom… I’ve killed men, but only when I had to, only when there was no other way.”

  “Get out of here, priest! Git Dammit!” and Tom shoved him toward the door.

  “Go ahead, Father. Open the door and yell ‘Padre coming out.” I told him.

  He moved to door and opened it a crack then called out. He turned to me and said, “God Bless you Benito Blu.” Then he was gone.

  “Alright, Tom, drop your gun and turn around.”

  “They’re gonna take me back to Taos and hang me with all those people staring… I reckon not, Ben.” Then with one swift move, he stuck the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger.

  I could hear myself screaming “NOOOO!” But it was too late… I had to turn away. With another family in another time, Tom Williams could have been anybody’s friend or neighbor. The fates play strange tricks with our lives.

  I opened the door without thinking to call out and faced four Winchesters pointing my way… I didn’t even notice.

  Chapter 20

  I stood in the doorway for a moment, and they all came crawling out of their cover. Taking a few steps into the yard, I staggered back and leaned against the wall. They all came running to me. I held up my hand to tell them that I was alright, I was just exhausted. Father Paul was searching my face for signs of needs. I told him, “I didn’t kill him, Padre. He took his own life. He felt he had nowhere to go.” He crossed himself.

  “Tom was the best of that bunch by far. I don’t think he was a bad man; he just wouldn’t turn away from his family.”

  “There’s another one in the tunnel who will surely die soon, Padre. He might need your help to get him through it.” I told him.

  Claybrook said, “No, Ben, he’s already gone. Must have hit something vital in there because he bled out quick.”

  “We’ll take care of everything here and get these fellas buried,” he said, “why don’t you get on that horse and you and the good father get down to camp. I think you both need some food, coffee, and a little patching up.”

  I convinced Father Paul that mounting a horse would be harder on me than walking down to the camp, so we both walked and he led the horse.

  At the camp, the women came running when they saw the padre walking in leading a horse. You never saw such a glorious reunion. I looked over at the seated grinning cowboy with a bandaged leg and said, “I hope you made the most of all the attention you got, Spider, because you’re playin second fiddle now.”

  “That’s not true, Ben Blue.” Linda scolded. “We’re just so happy that Padre is safe… Ben! What happe…” the next thing I knew, I was waking up and somebody was trying to get me to take something from a spoon.

  It tasted like broth made from beef jerky, but I’d have rather had a steak made of beef. I was pretty sure that wasn’t coming until they had poured all the broth they could come up with in me.

  “Oh, Senor Blue, you are awake.” I found myself looking into the pretty soft brown eyes of the young nun. She was kneeling beside me wielding a spoon, which was dripping on the blanket that covered me. Linda was kneeling on the other side of me.

  “No,” I said, “I reckon I must be dead because I’m surrounded by a pair of angels.” They both snickered.

  “I think he’ll be fine, Sister, that’s pure Ben Blue Blarney. He’s Irish, you know? Linda whispered in a as if telling a big secret.

  “Have mercy on us!” The sister said, feigning shock. Then they both giggled like schoolgirls.

  “Ben, you’ve lost a lot of blood, so you’d better take some of this broth. You’ll get some solid food when your nurse, Sister Valentina says you can. She’s had nursing training, and she’s very good at what she does, so be a good patient.”

  “Neither of your wounds is critical, but the loss of blood is serious.” Sister Valentina told me, “From the look of your clothing, you lost a good deal.”

  “My clothes?” It dawned on me that I didn’t seem to have any on… just a blanket.

  “They are drying.” The young nun said matter of factly. “They may not be in very good condition, but they will be clean.” I pulled the blanket up under my chin and concentrated on the broth.

  I must have drifted off to sleep again because when I opened my eyes again it was late afternoon. The fire was going good and there was the smell of wood smoke, venison, and… coffee. I could see that Claybrook and the others were in camp. Looking around I couldn’t find Rubio. I wasn’t immediately worried
about him, but I was concerned.

  “What’s a fella gotta do to get a cup of coffee around here?” I asked. I got several replies telling me to come get my own, but Linda brought me a cup and helped prop me up against someone’s saddle. I wanted that coffee bad enough to have gone after it, clothes or no clothes.

  Father Paul, who had been asleep the last time I was awake, came over and sat beside me. Ethan Claybrook sat on the other side. “I hope you two aren’t my replacement nurses because neither one of you is as pretty as my last two.” I told them, and they both took offense.

  “We got them boys all buried, except the one that got out.” Claybrook told me. “There was some shooting up on the mountain, but we haven’t any idea what come of it.”

  “Haven’t seen anything of the Indian since he went after Rafferty. I hope he’s alright.”

  “I would be greatly surprised if he isn’t. Russell Rafferty pistol whipped his grandson at the school, so I’d not like to be in Rafferty’s boots.”

  “Is that Nino’s grandfather, the great Rubio?” Father Paul asked. “Nino tells many stories about him. Even the other Navajo children know of his exploits.”

  “You can believe the stories, Father. I’ve been on the trail with Rubio a number of times, and I don’t know of anyone I’d rather trust my life with than that old savage…. The only thing that concerns me is his age… But he’s got him a new fat young squaw back at his jacal to come home to.”

  Claybrook chuckled, “A new wife at his age? Why he must be near eighty.”

  “From the story timelines, I put him just a little over seventy, but yep, he’s got him a young squaw waitin by the fire.”

  “What do you think we ought to do about their horses and gear?” Claybrook asked.

  “Three of those horses belong at the school. Father Paul should know which ones they are. Be sure you get that little roan; that’s Nino’s personal horse. Pick out a good pack horse, and just turn the others loose. Find their three best saddles and put them on the horses that go to the school. Pack up any foodstuff they may have had, especially flour, coffee, and bacon. We’ll be on the trail for nigh on to a week. As for as their weapons and personal gear, pack it up and turn it over to the sheriff.”