Showdown With Fear (5 page)

Sam McVie joined in now. ‘Ha... yeah... poor bitch got took by the fever. Unlucky feller, that Dan Mullen. Maybe he’ll git a change o’ luck real soon.’ His mouth narrowed as he squeezed out a sound like a sigh, pretending, teasing like a school bully. His long blonde hair flopped over his face as he leant and glowered at Sara.

Pete was just on the point of throwing the hot coffee at Sam McVie when Barero called out, ‘Hey... riders... dozens of them... the posse?’

They all scrambled for the cave-mouth and looked at the dust. McVie grabbed some field-glasses. ‘No... it’s Stobart. Must have thirty riders with him. At last! ‘

‘Shouldn’t he have more, Johnny?’ Sam asked.

‘Well... he had more last time. I think there’s only pack-mules... no heavy stuff. means he’s after some of our ex-army treats! Money... boys... big bucks!’

McVie ordered Grip to tie up Pete and Sara again, and then they were put in the back hole, in the dark again. Pete heard them arrange to go down to meet Stobart. It was clear that he didn’t know where the McVie’s cave was, among the honeycomb of dark circles he could see from a distance.

*

Dan and Pearce were not far away from Broken Sword Canyon, and they had the bunch of outlaws in sight now. Dan was lying on the top of a slope to have a good look. He saw the riders, about six of them, veer away suddenly towards the hills in the east, and it wasn’t long before he saw the reason why. A much larger group was coming towards them, heading for Broken Sword. Putting two and two together, it looked like they were the usual fragmented bands of men scattered across the area. Maybe reports of an army of these scum were wrong.

Dan shoved back his hat. Pearce took his last cheroot and lay back under an overhanging rock, to smoke in the shade. He screwed up his eyes and asked a question he had been keen to ask for days now.

‘Mullen.... you know that she’ll never accept you. I’ve asked her to marry me and she’s thinking kind of serious about it...’

‘I know. I’ve seen you both. I’ve seen you at the fine shows. Joe Wright’s place. She’s an easterner at heart. Likes lace and fine wine. But I haven’t quite given up yet, friend. Sort of like the fine things in life, myself, Pearce. More to life than trackin’ bad types.’

Dan walked about, looking around them in all directions. They were on a bluff just central in the plain before the canyon. The riders had gone towards the Sword and Rattler’s Nest.

‘Course, why are we talking weddings when we’re most likely washed up... could peg out anytime.’ Pearce took his last pull at the cheroot and spat the remains down. ‘What’s goin’ on with all these roughnecks anyways, Mullen?’

‘What I reckon is - and this is just a hunch - that McVie knows just where we are. See, he wants me to get into the Sword after him, and get his own back... just lead me into a trap, looking for my son. And I havet no choice.’

‘Well, who are all these fellers we seen?’

‘I guess there’s more than one band, not all McVie’s bunch at all. Every crook in the three counties crosses the Pecos and runs into these hills. You can hide forever here. The Apache used to be here, and some other tribes, but they moved on. The mystery is, what do the scum live on? The place is dry as bone.’

Pearce didn’t say it, but he was scared, deep inside. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had never seen anything like this. It was further than he had ever been. Pearce was a townsman through and through, and he was thinking that, if they were being watched by McVie, and he was maybe just toying with them, then what chance had they? And how useful was this Dan Mullen? He had been handy with a gun, and he knew the territory well, but, dammit, there were probably hundreds of cut-throats in the hills ahead. He lay down next to Dan, who was watching the horizon again.

‘Mullen, tell me straight, you got any kinda plan in mind?’

Dan rubbed his cheeks and blew some sand off his mouth. A wind was getting up and it was becoming a hazard. ‘Only that I have no choice but to trust him. I have to walk into the canyon there, knowing he’s watching me from somewhere, and just fight for my son. I know what you’re thinking. This is not your fight. Well, you can get back to Red Ridge if you like and tell them the situation.’

’Hell, no. You could use another gun.’

‘You ever used that gun on anything but tin cans?’

Pearce smiled wryly, then chuckled. ‘I shot a buck-rabbit once.’

They laughed at the absurdity of it. There was no doubt about it - Pearce was starting to like this Dan Mullen. There was something about him that won you over.

*

It was sweltering hot on the valley floor as John and Sam McVie, with Barero, rode to meet Nick Stobart. Stobart and his bunch had dismounted and were in whatever shade they could find, taking in some water and resting their horses. Stobart himself sat upright as he saw the McVie gang plod slowly towards him.

Stobart lifted his hat. He was tanned scarlet; a man who was all muscle, small and wiry. He was athletic, a fit man more like someone half his forty years. He was almost bald and walked with a limp, the result of a bullet-wound he got in his range war days.

He stood up and walked towards the McVies, who dismounted and came to shake his hand.

‘John... good to see ya, partner.’

‘Feeling’s mutual. This is Filippo... you ain’t met him. Handy with a knife.’

‘Day to yer feller...
amigo
, heh?’

‘
Amigo
,
si
.’

‘I got hot coffee and some critter that was running around the rocks a while back. Join me.’

They settled down to talk. McVie knew that Stobart wanted to know first where the cave was and second what was in it. He also had no idea how many men McVie had, and there was no way that McVie was going to tell him. It was all friendly in their talk, but different in their hearts; mistrust, suspicion, just like always.

‘Good coffee... you live well.’

‘We try. This lot is good men... but there’s plenty won’t join. I was hoping our little plan would be more successful by now, John.’

‘Can’t spit a mile without walking some... patience eh?’

‘Yeah... but the main thing is, I seen your man. The drunk. We know just where he is. I got two men watching him now.’

John McVie’s heart leapt. He couldn’t hide his joy. ‘You’re a heap of surprises, Stobart... you came up trumps! I
knew
the fool would come in here, all noble and suicidal.’

‘Got a dude with him, rides like a tenderfoot. Part of that posse. They was easy meat. It was like slicing cheese with a Bowie. All shopkeepers and pen-pushers. But one ran off... injured. We lost him... he went to ground.’

Stobart was quiet. He ate some meat and dipped some rock-hard biscuit into the gravy. He wiped the dripping juice off his chin and then took a pull of water. McVie was waiting for the question, the inevitable question that was the real business of the day. It came, just as Sam belched and went to get his bandanna. The wind was whipping up.

‘Gonna be a storm soon, John....’

‘We should be inside somewheres.’

‘Like a nest, a Rattler’s Nest? Come on, John, you kin tell a business partner where you hiding out now, surely?’

‘If you was alone, maybe. But you got an army behind you... what, forty men? I tell, you and before I know it, all New Mexico is here, staring at my home!’

Stobart looked around. The wind was starting to lash dust into their faces. ‘Well, what ya got in there? I know it’s up there somewheres.’

John went through a list of rifles, handguns, Gatlings, signalling equipment, digging tools.

‘Lord, you got the army’s full stocks in there!’

John knew that Stobart wanted to be trusted. Their last meeting had been all about joining up and running the place. It was only a matter of time before this was mentioned.

‘Look, John, I been a busy man. I’ve got everything worked out dandy. See, you and me was talking about trust, right? Now, if you still want this range here to be our little kingdom, well, you gotta give a bit. Share a parcel o’ that good fortune with a friend, like. You recall we was discussing having a proper base here?

It was all out on the table now. All the cards were shown. Stobart was right. There would have to be trust somewhere. That was the toughest thing in the world for McVie to do. Even at that very minute, Grip had a Gatling trained on Stobart’s men, just in case.
Just
in
case
was McVie’s standard phrase for all situations.

‘See, we could be so powerful, John. We could be beyond the law. Who would chase us into here? A regiment of cavalry would think twice, son!’

John saw Sammy’s glance, a look that said, ‘Go on, make a deal!’ John did what he always did when taking a risk. He made a side-bet.

‘Stobart... you gotta deal... with one detail. You pay me now for the guns. It’s a matter of ten thousand for the rifles and Colts. Gatlings... six at two hundred dollars apiece.

The deal is, I deliver them to you tonight. You camp here.’

Stobart was not pleased. He had been about to shake McVie’s hand until he heard the full proposal.

‘So, what you’re saying is, you don’t trust me!’

‘No. I’m saying, we join, but you take control of the arms and the pass. Me and my boys settle in the Nest, and if there’s trouble, you can bolt in there and it would take a year to even find your
smell
...

Stobart’s face creased - half a smile and half a sneer. ‘You’re saying that you don’t trust me, John... come right out with it.’

Barero’s hand hovered over his revolver. Sammy did the same. Stobart’s sidekicks around the group stood up for a second, expecting the worst.

But the situation eased when Stobart lay back again, called for some whisky and said that it was time to drink to the partnership.

‘Hell... no point in falling out over this. Shake hands, John... and the money’s in the saddle-bags there.’ He called for a man to bring the bags. They were thrown across at Sammy, who looked into the bags and smiled.

The windstorm was now severe. Everyone scampered for cover. The smallest, nearest gouged-out hole in the bottom of the hill was enough to keep the worst of the storm away. They took their whisky with them, and soon they were drinking to the deal.

It was a nervous deal. They both knew that the trust hadn’t come, but it still gave them a feeling of strength, and the whisky was good. By late afternoon, no-one felt like moving and the dry sand was still lashing into their backs from outside.

*

The storm was also pelting into Grip’s face at the mouth of the Rattler’s Nest, so much so that he moved in, and covered the Gatling to protect it. He took some food and kept an eye on the kids, who were talking quietly, back in the half-light.

‘I just want to sort it out in my mind, Pete. Why would they do such a thing? Do they have no moral sense... no sense of wrong? To kill two human beings like that... I just want to see them behind bars forever.’ Sara was in Pete’s arms. He held her and comforted her.

They had talked for hours now that she was coming out of the first shock, just beginning to accept the death of her parents. Now, she wanted revenge. But it had brought to mind the first arrival at the ranch. People in Red Ridge had mocked them.

‘Why were they so cruel, Sara?’ Pete whispered.

‘I don’t know. Pa took a lot on, sure, but he was an experienced man, with Phil to help.... my God, Phil... they killed him too I suppose?’

Sara realised that she had not given a second’s thought to the hired hand, Phil, who had been around the back when the McVies came. The guilt this started upset her again.

‘Cut that out, that sobbin’ and carryin’ on!’ Grip bellowed.

‘Sara, Sara... listen to me. You ma and pa did real good. I had nothin’ but respect for them, and my pa was the same. Your father built up a place where almost nobody else would have. It seemed to Red Ridge people that it was just next door to hell. They made fun outta fear. They knew he had courage to carve out a livin’ and raise a family so near to the Pecos, so far from any settled folk. He was braver n’ any of them.’

‘You think so... really?’

‘Sure’

The storm was whistling into the cavern now, whipping up the coverings of the cases. The ropes and wooden lids loosened and there was rattling and shaking in the main pile of weapons and supplies. Grip ran for cover, sitting on the side away from the worst of the weather.

‘Pete, how long do you think before the others are back?’

‘Any time... if we’re gonna make a try at breakin’ out, it’s to be soon. We just need to handle this big man. But how?’

Pete racked his brain trying to think of a way. He was too strong to take on. There were no weapons to hand. You couldn’t rush him and push him over the cliff. But there was one thing. Sara nodded at the casing opposite. The wind had almost dislodged a lid and they could see the handle of a rifle.

‘Barero opened that this morning... he didn’t shut it too well, bless him...’ said Pete.

‘What do we do?’ Sara asked.

‘Well, I need to get over there and grab one, but he’ll have me quick... it’s thirty feet across... can you distract him?’