Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (5 page)

Other men were scattered out, and from time to time he could hear shouts from them.

He had succeeded in getting back through their line, but they would be doubling bac
k
at any time and he must at all costs find a place to hole up. As he had crawled a
n
idea had come to him. There might yet be a chance to use the shotgun.

Beyond the stone corral, back from the scattered area of campfires and shelters
,
was an ancient stone wall that appeared to be the face of a dugout. Obviously unused
,
it was the place most likely to be overlooked in any search for him. Using the corra
l
as shelter, the Kid worked his way along the far side, then ducked into the ope
n
door of the dugout.

It was about twenty feet long and the roof sagged dangerously. The remains of som
e
crude bunks and a fe
w
pieces of broken bench were mingled with the litter on the floor. Working his wa
y
back into the dugout, the Cactus Kid found it was L-shaped, and around the bend o
f
the L the roof was intact except at the very back, where a hole about three fee
t
across opened into a pile of brush, boulders and cacti.

Crouching in the half-dark of the dugout, the Kid opened the breech of the shotgun.

There had been no chance to dispense with the brass shell, for he had been movin
g
too fast and had nothing to replace it, anyway. Now he got out his pocketknife an
d
went to work. Taking several bullets from his cartridge belt, he opened them an
d
extracted the powder. Outside, the search continued, but in the dugout sweat poure
d
down the Kid's body as he worked. Several times he stopped to wipe his hands dr
y
and then went on with his work. He cut several of the pistol bullets into three piece
s
and with a rock pounded off the rough edges of the lead and shaped the pieces int
o
fairly round slugs. With utmost care he pried a primer out of one of the shells an
d
fit it into the back of the shotgun cartridge. It was a bit loose but seemed lik
e
it would stay centered. He now had a heavy charge of powder and twelve slugs; usin
g
some bits of paper from an old letter in his pocket as wadding, he soon had a charg
e
for his shotgun. When it was reloaded he felt much better. If they got him now, h
e
was at least taking one man with him. At close range his contrived shotgun shel
l
would tear a man wide open.

As he waited, his eyes accustomed to the dim light, he looked around the interio
r
of the ruined dugout. The floor was a litter of old paper, sacks, bits of rawhide
,
old clothes, and odds and ends of broken bottles. Suddenly he had an unaccountabl
e
fit of depression. Unaccountable for him, for the Cactus Kid was wont to look upo
n
life as his particular bailiwick, and he had spent most of his time trying to find the bright sid
e
of every situation.

This, he decided, was the limit of something or other. That he, the Cactus Kid, whos
e
cheerful grin and ready sense of humor had carried him through the worst of times
,
should be hiding here in a ruined dugout in the last hours of a hot Texas day wa
s
absolutely unacceptable. The Cactus Kid made up his mind. Come what may, he was goin
g
out and he was going to leave his mark on this outfit-but good.

Dusk came at last and the fires were built up and soon he could smell coffee. Wit
h
nothing to eat since daybreak, that added to the Kid's disgust. In all this tim
e
he had not dared look out, yet now, with the darkness bringing deep shadows aroun
d
the dugout, he moved to the back and thrust his head and shoulders through the hole.

He found himself looking out through a curtain of brush over the whole area of th
e
hideout. To his left was the stone corral, part of it almost in front of him, an
d
in the corral were the horses. Beyond it, on the slope and almost facing him, wa
s
the main house. There was an old stable, open-faced and now used by some of the outlaws
,
and there were four fires going. In all, he surmised there must be sixteen to twent
y
men at the hideout.

Slipping out of the hole, he crawled down to the corral wall. Flipping a loop ove
r
a horse's neck, he drew the animal to the wall and saddled it. A second horse snorte
d
and leaped when the rope touched it and one of the men at the fires got up. "Somethin'
b
otherin' the horses," he said.

"Aw! They're just fightin'!"

The outlaw stood looking toward the corral, but as all was quiet he soon subside
d
and returned to his seat.

Swiftly, the Kid saddled the second horse and another. Then he tied the three horse
s
and circled the corral.

Lying flat on his stomach, he looked past the corner at the group of outlaws. I
f
he only had his guns! The one shot in his shotgun meant little; he could only tak
e
one man, two at best, and then they would have him.

Suddenly the girl and her uncle were led from the house and brought down to the neares
t
fire. With them was Kit Branch and Farbeson. Jewell was at the fire and he got u
p
as they approached, grinning at Bully Brock. "Does me good to see this!" He sneered.

"You been struttin' high-an'-mighty for a long time!"

Brock straightened his shoulders. "Branch, give Kirby a horse an' let her go. She'
s
done nothin' to you. Let her go back home to San Antone."

"Not a chance! We've got her an' we'll keep her. We'll keep you, too, Brock, as lon
g
as you behave. We've got an idea that maybe you can keep the Rangers off us."

"Don't be a fool!" Brock retorted. "The only reason the Rangers stayed away was becaus
e
nobody from around here did anything but rustle a few head of cows once in a while.

They knew I was mostly honest and they didn't want to come all the way out here fo
r
a few young fellers who they could never prove had done anything. You start somethin'
a
n' they'll be down on you like a flock of wolves."

Branch smiled. "You expect me to believe that, Bully? You kno
w
folks. Come daylight we'll round up that kid. He won't get far without water or knowin'
t
he country."

A big man sat with his back to the Kid and not over twenty yards away. The Kid coul
d
see the pistol in his belt. If he was going to start something, it would have t
o
be soon. The horses might be discovered if he waited, and the sheer surprise migh
t
help, also; the girl and her uncle wer
e
close at hand now, but after they had eaten, they would probably be returned to th
e
house.

They had just come to the fire. It would be twenty minutes, thirty at most, befor
e
they would be returned to the house. There was a chance. He drew back suddenly, straightene
d
to his feet, and turned.

He stumbled straight into the very same outlaw who had been bothered by the horse
s
acting up. The Kid's sudden rise from the ground had been a complete surprise an
d
now he gaped foolishly at the Kid. Then his surprise faded and he began to grin.

"Got you!" he said hoarsely. "I got you!"

"You got me?" The Kid jerked the shotgun. "What do you think this is?"

"You had one shell." The man was grinning, enjoying himself. "You killed Breede
n
with it... uuhhh!"

The Cactus Kid acted suddenly. He was gripping the shotgun with both hands and h
e
simply jammed the end of the barrel in the man's solar plexus with wicked force.

The outlaw grunted and hit the dirt on his knees. Instantly, the Kid smashed hi
m
on the back of the skull with the butt of the shotgun, then stripped the man's gu
n
from his holster. Swinging the extra cartridge belt over his shoulder, the Kid quickl
y
rounded the back corner of the corral toward the haystack. Dropping to his knees
,
he struck a match, then another and another.

Grabbing a pitchfork as the flames leaped up, he forked two quick bunches of flamin
g
hay high into the grease-wood surrounding the camp. Then he went over the corra
l
rails with a leap, grabbed the bridle reins of the three horses, and swung into th
e
saddle.

"Fire!

The hay's afire!" Other voices took up the call and men charged toward the stack.

The fire scattered in the greasewood, caught, and the resinous wood and leave
s
burst into a crackle of flame. Crouching low in the saddle, his shotgun ready, th
e
Kid rode for the corral gate and kicked the latch open. The balanced gate swung an
d
instantly he was through.

A man saw him coming and the Kid yelled, "Get the horses! Save 'em!" With a shril
l
whoop he rode down on the fire where Bully Brock stood beside the girl. Her hand
s
were free, but his were still bound and they had been making the girl feed him, fearin
g
what he might attempt if he wasn't restrained.

Men were racing toward the flames, and the Kid's call made them realize the dange
r
of the horses without noticing who it was that yelled. Racing up to the fire, th
e
Kid called to Kirby. "Hit the saddle! Hit the saddle! Let's go!"

After one startled instant of hesitation Brock raced for the nearest horse and, withou
t
even waiting to have his hands untied, jumped for the saddle and got a foot in th
e
stirrup. With his left hand, the Kid pulled the big man into the saddle while Kirb
y
swung up. Behind them there were yells and he could hear Kit Branch shouting angrily.

Turning in the saddle, the Cactus Kid saw a big man take three running steps an
d
stop, whipping a Winchester to his shoulder. The Kid pulled the trigger on his shotgu
n
and the gun boomed and slammed his shoulder. The big man staggered and the Kid wheeled
,
jumping his horse away as he threw the shotgun into the face of another man. An
d
then they were off and running.

Behind them men raced wildly about, grabbing at the thrashing horses, the whole scen
e
lighted by the whipping flames. The breeze was stiff and the flames had leaped acros
s
the greasewood until the whole hillside was a roaring flame. Kirby was leading th
e
way due west and the three rode desperately, crouching low in their saddles to escap
e
the hail of bullets.

Weaving among the boulders, Bully led west, then south, then doubled back to th
e
north. At a stop to let the horses breathe, the Kid leaned over and cut Brock's hand
s
free of the top loop of rope, and Brock did the rest himself. Slowing down, the Cactu
s
Kid looked around and could see the loom of Solitario Peak off to the north and
a
little east. Kirby was riding west, following some vague sort of trail, weaving throug
h
some rough country. Dropping into Fresno Canyon, they turned north and kept a goo
d
pace until the peak of Solitario was behind them to the east. Then she led them out
,
going northeast. They stopped briefly at a tinaja; nearby was the dark outline o
f
what had once been a frame of a mine scaffold and prospector's shack, now partiall
y
collapsed.

Bully chafed his wrists and grinned at the Cactus Kid. "You sure are hellfire whe
n
you cut loose, mister! We'd better hightail it northwest. Maybe we can make a settlemen
t
before they catch up to us. I'd at least like to have a gun!"