Ralph Compton Whiskey River (26 page)

“I reckon that makes sense,” said Estrello. “How many men?”

“As many as you'll send, as well as me and my friends,” Mark said.

“I'm leaving some of my men with the wagons,” said Estrello, “and just so you don't get any ideas beyond chasing Indians, your women will stay here, too.”

“Then get your outfit saddled and let's ride,” Mark said.

Estrello left nine of his men with the wagons.

“Amanda,” said Mark, “you and Betsy stay near the wagons, and keep your guns close. Stay away from those men Estrello is leaving here.”

“Do be careful,” Betsy cried.

Estrello led out, and there was no difficulty following the trail the Indians had left. The moon had risen early, and the purple sky was a profusion of silver stars. Directly behind Estrello's group rode Carl, Lee, Vernon, Todd, Nick, and Ed, led by Bill and Mark. Nobody spoke. There was only the steady thump of horses' hooves. Finally, when they stopped to rest the animals, Estrello dropped back to talk to Mark.

“Rogers, you say you've done this before. From here on, take the lead. You'd better not be leadin' us into a fight we can't win.”

They were riding westward into Indian Territory, the night wind in their faces, and at the smell of wood smoke, Mark reined up, raising his hand. The rest of the riders reined up behind him, dismounting when he did.

“We'll have to go on foot the rest of the way,” Mark said, “but first we must know how their camp is laid out and where the horses are. I'll take one man with me.”

“Then I'll go,” said Estrello.

“I'd prefer Clemans or Ursino,” Mark said.

“Damn it,
I said I'm going,”
said Estrello.

“Suit yourself,” Mark said.

They crept along on foot until the smell of wood smoke grew stronger. Slowly, they made their way through a heavy stand of trees to the crest of a ridge. Below them, in a canyon and along a stream, was the Indian camp.

“By God,” grunted Estrello, “it's a box canyon, with the horses at the boxed end, and all them damn Indians fencin''em in. We can't stampede them horses unless we're behind them.”

“Then we'll have to get behind them,” said Mark. “We're going to look at the boxed end of this canyon and find a way down. Then we can stampede their horses right through the camp.”

Estrello said nothing as they followed the ridge, carefully keeping below the skyline. A stream flowed out of solid rock at the boxed end of the canyon, and even in the dim light from the moon and stars, it appeared there was no possible way to take horses down the slope.

“That damn canyon wall is solid rock and near straight up,” said Estrello. “They ain't no way you can get a horse down that.”

“I don't aim to take horses down there,” Mark said. “I aim to take seven men with me, and we're going in afoot. After we've stampeded the horses, I want you and the rest of the men mounted, near the open end of this canyon. When those Indian horses pour out, I want all of you behind them, yelling and shooting like hell wouldn't have it. I want those horses run a good fifty miles from here.
Comprehende?”

“Yeah,” said Estrello, “but my men ain't likely to take to the idea of goin' afoot among that many Indians.”

“I've decided who's going with me,” Mark said. “Long, Sullivan, Clemans, Keithley, Ursino, Stackler, and Harder. I want the rest of you near the open end of that canyon. The success of this whole thing depends on how far all of you are able to stampede those horses, once we start 'em running.”

“I can't figure you out, Rogers,” said Estrello. “You and your friends are goin' into an Indian camp afoot, leavin' me and my boys mounted.”

“That's it.” Mark said. “I want you and your men down there at the lower end of that canyon, and I don't want so much as a whisper out of any of you. If anybody lights a smoke, and the Indians don't kill him, I will.”

“Where you goin' now?” Estrello asked.

“Back after my
amigos.
By the time we return, the moon should have set, which will suit our purpose,” said Mark.

“I'll take the rest of my men down canyon to wait for the stampede,” Estrello said, “but don't get any ideas about a double cross.”

“That's the trouble with being a lyin', cheatin', murderin' varmint,” said Mark with as much venom as he was capable of. “You can't trust anybody else to keep his word.”

“There's something damned strange about you and your bunch taking all the risk, just to save us and my wagonloads of whiskey,” Estrello said. “My boys ain't gonna like this.”

“Then, by God, send your boys into that box canyon to stampede those horses. I'll be glad to just back off and let you handle it any way you damn please,” said Mark.

“No,” Estrello said. “Do it like you got it planned. I'll take the other nine
hombres
to the lower end of the canyon to wait for you and your bunch to stampede the horses.”

They reached the picketed horses and Estrello quickly explained the plan.

“Rogers, Harder, and their few friends ain't been nothin' but trouble, ever since we left the Washita,” said Suggs, “and now you're puttin' everything in their hands. Damn it, I don't like it.”

“The trouble with you and a few of the others, Suggs, is that you let your likes and dislikes get in the way of common sense. Somebody's
got
to get down that canyon wall and stampede those Indian horses. I'm ready to back off and let you and your stubborn
amigos
handle this the best way you can,” Mark said angrily.

“Suggs,” said Estrello, “he's speakin' the truth. If that whole damn bunch of Indians is able to come after us, we're dead men. So is Rogers and his
compadres.
Now unless you and seven others want to do what Rogers and his
amigos
aim to do, then just shut the hell up. I want all of you at the lower end of this canyon when we return with the other men. Hide your horses well away from the canyon mouth, and keep them there until we get back to you.”

“No noise, no smoking, and no talking,” Mark said.

“Pay attention to him,” said Estrello. “Spoil this, any one of you, and I'll personally peel your hide off, a strip at a time.”

Mark mounted up, riding back the way they had come. Estrello and the nine men who had come with him mounted their horses and began a roundabout ride toward the open end of the canyon.

Mark rode back to where his companions still waited with their horses. Quickly, he told them of his plan.

“It's as good a plan as we're likely to come up with,” Ed said. “That is, if Estrello and his bunch can keep the stampede going.”

“They'd damn well better,” said Mark, “or we'll be trapped in that canyon with a passel of screaming Indians after our scalps.”

“Tell me Estrello and his bunch didn't take our horses with them,” Bill said.

“They didn't,” said Mark. “Our horses are where we left them before Estrello and me went looking for the Indian camp.”

“We can't take the horses down the canyon wall, and if we could, they couldn't climb out again,” Carl said. “How do we get out of that canyon? With that many Indians, some of them may grab a horse, even as they're stampeded.”

“We'll take our horses well beyond the mouth of the canyon, where they'll be well out of the way of the stampede. We'll picket them there. When we're down the canyon wall, we'll each take an Indian pony and begin the stampede. After the horses are free of the canyon, we'll ride back and get our own horses, leaving Estrello and his bunch to keep the stampede going.”

“What about the Indian ponies we'll be riding?” Lee asked. “We can't just turn them loose. The Indians could use them to help gather the others.”

“We'll take the Indian ponies back to camp with us,” said Mark. “Any more questions before we head for the canyon?”

There were none. Mark led out, his companions following. They left their horses not far from where Estrello and his men waited. From there, it was a mile or more back to the boxed end of the canyon, and they had to walk.

“I don't mind facin' a hundred or so kill-crazy Indians,” Ed said, “but walkin' in these boots could be the death of me.”

They reached the boxed end of the canyon, Mark taking the lead, each man bringing the lariat from his saddle. Mark held up his hand, and his companions halted. He would make the ascent first. Finding a large pinnacle of stone that he judged strong enough, Mark secured one end of his lariat to it. Carl, Lee, Vernon, and Todd passed him their lariats. He judged them more than long enough to reach the canyon floor below. The fires within the Indian camp had burned down to coals, and the occasional wind stirred a spark or two. Mark hitched up his gun belt, pulled his hat a bit lower, and started down. His feet against the rocky canyon wall, hanging on to the extended lariats, he “walked” down. Bill followed, and within minutes all eight men were on the floor of the canyon. Water fell from a head-high crevice in the wall, helping to conceal any sound. Some of the horses had ceased grazing, and the eight men waited for the animals to settle down. When they did, Mark quickly got his arm around the neck of a bay. He held the animal steady until his companions had captured mounts. At his signal, each of them mounted, bareback, drew their Colts, and began firing over the heads of the remaining horses. The herd broke into a fast gallop, the eight riders right behind them. Some of the sleeping Indians barely escaped the thundering hooves, while some of them were able to catch a horse on the run. Mark shot two mounted Indians off their horses. His companions followed his lead, and finally the horses had run through the Indian camp, and there were no more mounted Indians. By the time some of the Indians got their rifles, the range was too great and the sky was dark with gathering clouds. Some Indians fired arrows or threw lances, all of which fell short. When the herd of Indian horses was out of the canyon, nine more riders swept in behind them. Mark and his companions cut out of the canyon and back along the rim, far enough from the edge that the Indians couldn't see or hear them. Estrello and his men kept up the firing until Mark and his companions could hear it no longer.

“They've given up the chase, or they're too far away for us to hear the shooting,” said Ed.

But all the Indians, seeing the futility of it, hadn't taken part in the chase. Suddenly, out of the dark, a brawny arm was around Mark's throat, and he could see his companions engaged in similar struggles. The Indians had discovered the rope! Mark's adversary tried to throw him over the canyon rim, but Mark tore himself free and threw the Indian over, instead. Slowly, the eight men got the best of their opponents, several of whom were thrown over the canyon rim. The others were simply knocked senseless with the muzzle of a Colt. There was no shooting. Quickly, Mark hauled up the knotted lariats, and mounting their bare back Indian ponies, the eight men returned to their own horses. Each leading a captured horse on a lead rope, they set out for the wagons.

“Was anybody hurt?” Amanda and Betsy cried, running to meet them.

“Some Indians, as far as we know,” said Mark. “Estrello and some of his bunch are stampeding the horses. If they got hurt, it's their own fault.”

It didn't take long to stir the interest of the outlaws Estrello had left behind.

“Where's the rest of our outfit?” Wilder demanded.

“They're busy,” Mark said.

He told them nothing more. The riders hobbled the captured Indian horses, leaving them to graze.

Estrello and the rest of his outfit didn't return for another two hours. Estrello made it a point to speak to Mark. “By God, Rogers, it worked. We run them horses until our own was give out. I got to give you credit.”

“Before you get too excited,” said Mark, “you'd better assign a heavy watch. It may be too far for those Indians to find their own horses tonight, but their camp's not that far from ours. They could sneak in and rustle our stock, including the mules.”

“It ain't but six hours until dawn,” Estrello said. “Wilder, choose a dozen men and take the first three hours. I'll pick some men to join me for the second watch.”

To Mark's surprise, he and none of his companions were chosen for either watch.

“Old Wolf seems to be softening up some,” Amanda said. “This is one of the few times he hasn't put all of you on watch.”

“I think this is for the sake of his outfit,” said Vernon. “He doesn't want his bunch to get the idea he's all that dependent on us. We've already cleared out the Indians with very little help from him. Once we stampeded that herd, a bunch of schoolgirls could have kept it running.”

“Don't say that loud enough for Estrello or any of his outfit to hear it,” Nick said. “Let them think they might find us useful again.”

“Not against those Indians,” said Mark. “They're not fools. That trick won't work for us again. When they finally catch up their horses, you can bet they'll have sentries watching over the herd every night.”

During what remained of the night, Amanda and Betsy slept beside Mark and Bill. Not far away, a lonely cry drifted across the stillness.

“That's the first coyote I've heard in a long time,” Amanda said, sitting up.

“That's no coyote,” said Mark. “Listen when it comes again. Listen for the echo.”

The cry came again, trailing off mournfully.

“Yes, I heard the echo,” Amanda said. “What does it mean?”