Outlaw Pass (9781101544785) (17 page)

Cox and Blackie exchanged quick glances, then peered anxiously at the willow thicket from whence the fatal shot had come. “One of 'em crossed over to this side,” Cox said, stating the obvious.

“He ain't fired again,” Blackie said. “You reckon we hit him?”

“I don't know,” Cox replied, “but we damn sure better find out.” A new burst of shots from the other side of the river served to tell them that Bellou and the others had moved in closer to the river. “We'd better get movin' before the rest of 'em decide to cross over, too.” He started to rise to a crouch, but Skinner grabbed his sleeve.

“Don't leave me here, fellers,” he begged. “I need help gettin' back to my horse.”

Blackie gave him a cursory glance and said, “You're done for, Skinner. We got to look out for ourselves.”

Cox pulled his sleeve out of the dying man's grasp. “Ain't much we can do for you. Might as well settle back and wait for it.”

“Oh, Lordy, don't leave me,” Skinner cried out feebly as his two partners hurried off through the brush, intent upon capturing the gold dust, and leaving the doomed man to deal with his pain.

Moving cautiously through the willows recently abandoned by Adam, Cox and Blackie advanced to find the rifleman gone. “He's runnin',” Cox whispered. “Come on.” He led the way, his eyes set on a large cottonwood leaning over the river. Blackie followed, both men oblivious of the man lying close beside a rotting cottonwood log that jutted halfway out over the bank.

Just keep moving, boys
, Adam thought as they moved past him. Then he slowly drew his rifle up to rest on the log. Rising to one knee, he waited for them to reach a spot where he could get a clear shot at both of them. Just short of reaching the big cottonwood, both men stepped into an open patch. Adam squeezed off the first round, his bullet producing a little cloud of dust from Blackie's buckskin vest as it thudded into his back, dropping him like a stone. Adam cocked the rifle as quickly as he could, but Cox's reactions were swifter than he had anticipated, and he whirled and fired before Adam could chamber another round. Though hurried, with no time to take careful aim, Cox's shot grazed Adam's head, knocking him senseless to the ground.

“I got him! I got him!” Cox shouted triumphantly. “That big son of a bitch, I got him!” He ran to the riverbank to confirm it and found Adam lying unconscious on the ground. Hearing his shouts across the river, Jesse and Sykes came out of the trees to see what the shouting was about. Seeing the two outlaws, Cox yelled to them, “He got Blackie and Skinner, but I by God got him!”

“You sure?” Jesse yelled back.

“Damn right, I'm sure,” Cox returned, and cocked his pistol, preparing to make certain. His bullet tore harmlessly into the ground beside his foot when the impact of the .44 rifle slug from Jesse's rifle slammed into his chest, dropping him beside Adam's body.

“By God, things couldn'ta worked out much better'n that,” Jesse said as he ejected the empty shell. He looked at Sykes with a satisfied grin. “Them three jokers were good for somethin' after all. They got rid of the only one we had to worry about. And what tickles me is he got two of them first. That gold's all mine and yours, partner—no splits with anybody else.”

Sykes could appreciate the way things were seemingly falling in place to land Finn's gold in their hands, but he was still cautious to some degree. “We've still got to catch up with that old man and the two women,” he warned. “That's still three against two. Maybe we shoulda waited before you shot Cox. We mighta needed him.”

“Shit fire, Sykes,” Jesse remarked, “an old man and two whores ain't enough to worry about. Let's get after'em before they take off a-runnin', now that they ain't got their big hired gun to protect 'em.”

“Maybe so,” Sykes replied, hesitating, “but you'd be just as dead from a bullet fired by a scared female. And I've heard some things about that ol' gal, Bonnie.”

“Don't think I ain't thought about that,” Jesse insisted. “But look up yonder about a quarter of a mile.” He pointed to a stretch of the river that appeared to be free of trees with nothing along the banks but some low shrubs. “If one of us moves on up ahead of 'em, we oughta be able to catch 'em in the open when they cross that clear patch. And if they don't come outta the trees, we can box 'em in between us and plink away at 'em until we pick 'em all off. Which you wanna do, get in behind and do the pushin' or ride on downstream to cut 'em off?”

“I'll ride,” Sykes said, and started back up the bank.

“All right,” Jesse called after him, “I'll make it so hot for 'em, they'll have to keep movin' toward you.” He hesitated for a moment to watch Sykes run back toward the rise where the horses were tied before adding, “Try to get a shot at Finn. Get him and I expect the women will be ready to quit.” Sykes acknowledged with a hand thrown up as he ran for his horse.

 

Some two hundred yards downriver from where Jesse stood, Finn and the two women made their way as best they could while holding close to the bank. It was not an easy task, and slow going, to lead the horses and the string of mules through the willows and shrubs that lined the water, but they were afraid to leave the cover the foliage provided. There had been shots fired behind them—on both sides of the river—some possibly by Adam, but there was no way to tell what was happening. Finn saw no alternative but to keep moving and hope that Adam somehow managed to stop the men pursuing them. It was Bonnie who dissuaded him. About to cross over a stream that cut a deep gully in the bank, she yelled to Finn, “We ain't got much farther to go before we're gonna be crossing a wide stretch of open prairie between here and that next patch of trees. If they catch us out in the open, they'll make short work of us.”

Looking up ahead, where she had indicated, he could see that she was right. “It is a bit risky,” he said, and pulled up to consider the gully they were in the process of crossing. “We're gonna have to make a stand someplace, I reckon, and this is as good a place as we're likely to find.”

The gully was just deep enough and long enough to afford some protection for the horses and mules, so they gathered them at the deepest part at the river's edge. Finn positioned himself at the upstream side of the gully and put Bonnie and Lacey behind him to watch for any attack from that side. He only hoped that Bonnie was as handy with the weapon as she professed to be. Once they were settled and ready to make their stand, there was nothing to do but wait. Adam was back there somewhere on the other side of the river, but there had been no gunshots from that direction for quite some time now. Finn feared that Adam had met with disaster. “Keep a sharp eye out, ladies,” he said, “and sing out if you see any of them comin' from your side.” He knew the possibility of an attack from below them was very real. The river took a winding snakelike path through the valley. It would be easy enough for some of their pursuers to gallop straight down the valley and cut them off.
I wish I knew where the hell Adam is
, he thought. It might have helped improve his confidence had he known that his adversaries had been reduced from six to two. That might not have been enough, however, if he also knew that Adam was lying wounded by a dead log some two hundred yards behind him on the opposite bank of the river.

Finn shifted his position slightly in an attempt to gain a little better cover from which to fire his rifle. Only a few minutes had elapsed since he had last heard shots in the willows upstream, but it seemed like an eternity. Although he strained to hear any sounds that would signal the approach of the outlaws, there was nothing but the stillness of the riverbank, with an occasional snort from one of the mules. He looked over his shoulder at the two women on the other side of the gully—Bonnie, lying prone on her stomach, her 1864 Joslyn carbine resting across her forearm, ready to fire at the first opportunity—and Lacey, huddled close beside her, holding the Colt .44 as if afraid it might start shooting without her influence.
A fine mess you've found yourself in, Michael Finn
, he thought. There was no time for further lament because of an excited yell from Bonnie.

“There's one of them!” Bonnie exclaimed, and pointed to a single rider galloping some four or five hundred yards wide of them. “He's heading for those cottonwoods up ahead!” She turned to Finn long enough to comment, “See, we'da been in the middle of that open space about now.” Taking charge of Lacey then, she said, “You just stay right where you are. You'll be all right. Just point that pistol at anybody you see and pull the trigger. Even if you don't hit anything, it'll give them something to think about.”

If the situation had not been so tense, Finn might have been forced to smile.
Maybe we don't need Adam,
he thought wryly, amazed by the woman's obvious spunk to back up her audacious talk. The thought caused him to worry about Adam's fate again, and wonder if one of the shots he had heard might have been the one that put his big friend down. Reminding himself that he had better return his vigilance to the trees behind them, he shifted his position once more, just in time to feel the impact of the .44 slug that struck his right shoulder. Lacey screamed when she heard the sound of the shot and turned to see Finn slide down the steep side of the gully. “I'm hit!” Finn gasped as he slumped against the bank.

“Damn!” Bonnie uttered. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Finn groaned. “I think it broke my shoulder.”

“Damn!” Bonnie muttered again. Like Finn, she wondered where Adam was, but hesitated for only a moment before taking control again. “All right, just try to hang on for right now. Take that bandanna off and try to stop the bleeding.” She took hold of Lacey's arm then and shook the frightened young woman forcefully. “You're gonna stay here and watch that open space. I'm gonna take Finn's place on the other side. And, Lacey, keep your eyes on those trees. If anybody comes out of them, shoot 'em.” Though terrified, Lacey nodded bravely and turned her attention back to her side of the gully.

 

They're done for
, Jesse thought as he worked his way closer to the gully where they had taken refuge. He was certain that his shot had found the target. He saw it when it hit Finn and the little Irishman dropped over backward. There was no one to worry about now but the two women, and he was on his way to take care of them, still with a thought to be cautious of Bonnie.
Be a good idea to shoot her right off
, he thought.
Then have a little go-round with the young one before I kill her
. The thought brought a smile to his face as he increased his pace, moving from one point of cover to the next.
Sykes oughta be somewhere beyond that clearing
, he thought.

In fact, Sykes was closer than Jesse thought. Anxious to get his hands on the gold packed on Finn's mules, he decided to leave his horse in the trees, thinking it a good idea to get to that gully before Jesse, or at least soon after. They were partners, but he didn't rule out the possibility that Jesse might hide a couple of those sacks with the notion of coming back for them later. With that in mind, he was making his way as fast as he could on foot through the shoulder-high scrub bushes along the bank, confident that he couldn't be seen. When within fifty yards of the gully, he heard Jesse's arrival at the edge of the gully.

“You women are finished,” Jesse called out. “Where's Finn? Is he hurt bad?”

Bonnie glanced at Finn, his face twisted in pain, holding the bloody bandanna over his useless shoulder. She thought about it for a moment before answering Jesse. “He's dead,” she called back.

“I thought so,” Jesse said. “All right, then, this little party is over. Now, we got no cause to harm you ladies since this is an official sheriff's posse. We'll just take charge of them mules and you ladies can be on your way. So just put your guns down if you're holdin' any.”

“We have your word that you ain't gonna hurt us?” Bonnie asked innocently.

“Yes, ma'am,” Jesse answered. “You certainly do. We just want the mules.”
Then I'll put a hole right between your eyes,
he thought.

“All right,” Bonnie called out. “We give up.” She put a finger to her lips to warn a terrified Lacey to keep silent as she cocked her rifle.

Feeling helpless to defend himself, Finn made an awkward attempt to retrieve his rifle, which had slid all the way down to the bottom of the gully when he had been hit. Bonnie motioned for him to remain still, but he ignored her signals and tried to ease himself down to his weapon, resulting in a tumble that brought a painful landing several yards from the rifle. At that moment, Jesse appeared at the rim of the gully, his rifle trained on the helpless man.

“Well, now,” Jesse commented sarcastically, “he's movin' pretty good for a dead man.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his concentration should be on Bonnie. It was too late to avoid the .52-caliber slug that ripped his gut at close to point-blank range. As he bent double in pain, Bonnie reloaded and pumped another round into him, a few inches above the first. Mortally wounded, he tumbled face forward over the edge of the gully, landing a few feet from Finn.

 

Sykes froze in his tracks, stopped by the sudden report of two quick shots only a few dozen yards ahead of him. Kneeling beside a serviceberry bush, he paused to listen for sounds that might indicate what had happened. The shots he heard didn't sound like Jesse's rifle, more like a carbine, like some of those the cavalry soldiers used. After a few moments, he heard voices—excited women's voices—and it occurred to him that they might have gotten Jesse. There was only one way to know for sure, but he was not eager to meet with the same fate. There was another way to look at it, he realized. If they got Jesse, and it was very likely that they had, the fortune packed on those mules was all his. He faced a huge chance of ending up like his partner, but the risk was worth it. He imagined there was more gold on those mules than a man could ever amass in a lifetime. Resolved to claim what he fancied to be rightfully his, he started moving forward again, inching his way slowly to a point where he might get a look at what he faced.