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Title: Pilgrims to the Pecos (Weary Pilgrims on the Road)Author: Robert E. Howard* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *eBook No.: 0608681h.htmlLanguage: EnglishDate first posted: Nov 2006Most recent update: Sep 2019This eBook was produced by Richard Scott and updated by Roy Glashan.Project Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editionswhich are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright noticeis included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particularpaper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing thisfile.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.htmlTo contact Project Gutenberg of Australia go to http://gutenberg.net.au
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THAT there wagon rolled up the trail andstopped in front of our cabin one morning jest after sun-up. We allcome out to see who it was, because strangers ain't common on BearCreek—and not very often welcome, neither. They was a long,hungry-looking old coot driving, and four or five growed boyssticking their heads out.
"Good mornin', folks," said the old coot, taking off his hat."My name is Joshua Richardson. I'm headin' a wagon-train ofimmigrants which is lookin' for a place to settle. The rest of'em's camped three miles back down the trail. Everybody we met inthese here Humbolt Mountings told us we'd hev to see Mister RoaringBill Elkins about settlin' here-abouts. Be you him?"
"I'm Bill Elkins," says pap suspiciously.
"Well, Mister Elkins," says Old Man Richardson, wagging hischin-whiskers, "we'd admire it powerful if you folks would let uspeople settle somewheres about."
"Hmmmm!" says pap, pulling his beard. "Whar you all from?"
"Kansas," says Old Man Richardson.
"Ouachita," says pap, "git my shotgun."
"Don't you do no sech thing, Ouachie," says maw. "Don't bestubborn, Willyum. The war's been over for years."
"That's what I say," hastily spoke up Old Man Richardson. "Letbygones be bygones, I says!"
"What," says pap ominously, "is yore honest opinion of GeneralSterlin' Price?"
"One of nature's noblemen!" declares Old Man Richardsonearnestly.
"Hmmmmm!" says pap. "You seem to have considerable tact andhoss-sense for a Red-laig. But they hain't no more room on BearCreek fer no more settlers, even if they was Democrats. They's nineer ten families now within a rech of a hunnert square miles, and Idon't believe in over-crowdin' a country."
"But we're plumb tuckered out!" wailed Old Man Richardson. "Andnowheres to go! We hev been driv from pillar to post, by settlerswhich got here ahead of us and grabbed all the best land. Theyclaims it whether they got any legal rights or not."
"Legal rights be damned," snorted pap. "Shotgun rights is whatgoes in this country. But I know jest the place fer you. It's tener fifteen days' travel from here, in Arizony. It's called BowieKnife Canyon, and hit's jest right fer farmin' people, which Ijedge you all be."
"We be," says Old Man Richardson. "But how we goin' to gitthere?"
"My son Breckinridge will be plumb delighted to guide youthere," says pap. "Won't you, Breckinridge?"
"No, I won't," I said. "Why the tarnation haveI got tobe picked on to ride herd on a passle of tenderfootedmavericks—"
"He'll git you there safe," says pap, ignoring my remarks. "Hedotes on lendin' folks a helpin' hand, don't you,Breckinridge?"
Seeing the futility of argyment, I merely snarled and went tosaddle Cap'n Kidd. I noticed Old Man Richardson and his boyslooking at me in a very pecooliar manner all the time, and when Icome out on Cap'n Kidd, him snorting and bucking and kicking therails out of the corral like he always does, they turnt kind ofpale and Old Man Richardson said: "I wouldn't want to impose onyore son, Mister Elkins. After all, we wasn't intendin' to go tothat there canyon, in the first place—"
"I'm guidin' you to Bowie Knife Canyon!" I roared. "Maybe youwarn't goin' there before I saddled my hoss, but you air now!C'm'on."
I then cut loose under the mules' feet with my .45s to kind ofput some ginger in the critters, and they brayed and sot off downthe trail jest hitting the high places with Old Man Richardsonhanging onto the lines and bouncing all over the seat and his sonsrolling in the wagon-bed.
We come into camp full tilt, and some of the men grabbed theirguns and the women hollered and jerked up their kids, and onefeller was so excited he fell into a big pot of beans which wassimmering over a fire and squalled out that the Injuns was tryingto burn him alive.
Old Man Richardson had his feet braced again the front-gate,pulling back on the lines as hard as he could and yelling bloodymurder, but the mules had the bits betwixt their teeth. So I rodeto their heads and grabbed 'em by the bridles and throwed 'em backonto their haunches, and Old Man Richardson ought to of knew thestop would be sudden. T'warn't my fault he done a dive off of theseat and hit on the wagon-tongue on his head. And it warn't myfault neither that one of the mules kicked him and t'other'n bithim before I could ontangle him from amongst them. Mules is meancritters howsoever you take 'em.
Everybody hollered amazing, and he riz up and mopped the bloodoffa his face and waved his arms and hollered: "Ca'm down,everybody! This hain't nawthin' to git excited about. This gent isMister Breckinridge Elkins, which has kindly agreed to guide us toa land of milk and honey down in Arizony."
They received the news without enthusiasm. They was about fiftyof 'em, mostly women, chillern, and half-grown young 'uns. Theywarn't more'n a dozen fit fighting men in the train. They alllooked like they'd been on the trail a long time. And they was allsome kin to Old Man Richardson—sons and daughters, andgrandchillern, and nieces and nephews, and their husbands andwives, and sech like. They was one real purty gal, the old man'syoungest daughter Betty, who warn't yet married.
They'd jest et breakfast and was hitched up when we arrove, sowe pulled out without no more delay. I rode along of Old ManRichardson's wagon, which went ahead with the others strung outbehind, and he says to me: "If this here Bowie Knife Canyon is secha remarkable place, why ain't it already been settled?"
"Aw, they was a settlement there," I said, "but the Apaches kiltsome, and Mexicans bandits kilt some, and about three years ago thesurvivors got to fightin' amongst theirselves and jest kind of kilteach other off."
He yanked his beard nervously and said: "I dunno! I dunno! Maybewe had ought to hunt a more peaceful spot than that there soundslike."
"You won't find no peaceful spots west of the Pecos," I assuredhim. "Say no more about it. I've made up our minds that Bowie KnifeCanyon is the place for you all, and we're goin' there!"
"I wouldn't think of argyin' the p'int," he assured me hastily."What towns does we pass on our way."
"Jest one," I said. "War Smoke, right on the Arizona line. Tellyore folks to keep out of it. It's a hangout for every kind of aoutlaw. I jedge yore boys ain't handy enough with weppins to mix insech company."
"We don't want no trouble," says he. "I'll tell 'em."
So we rolled along, and the journey was purty uneventful exceptfor the usual mishaps which generally happens to tenderfeet. But weprogressed, until we was within striking distance of the Arizonaborder. And there we hit a snag. The rear wagon bogged in a creekwe had to cross a few miles north of the line. They'd been a headrise, and the wagons churned the mud so the last one stuck fast. Itwas getting on toward sun-down, and I told the others to go on andmake camp a mile west of War Smoke, and me and the folks in thewagon would foller when we got it out.
But that warn't easy. It was mired clean to the hubs, and themules was up to their bellies. We pried and heaved and hauled, andnight was coming on, and finally I said: "If I could git themcussed mules out of my way, I might accomplish somethin'."
So we unhitched 'em from the wagon, but they was stuck too, andI had to wade out beside 'em and lift 'em out of the mud one by oneand tote 'em to the bank. A mule is a helpless critter. But then,with them out of the way, I laid hold of the tongue and hauled thewagon out of the creek in short order. Them Kansas people sure didlook surprized, I dunno why.
Time we'd scraped the mud offa the wagon and us, and hitched upthe mules again, it was night, and so it was long after dark whenwe come up to the camp the rest of the train had made in the placeI told 'em. Old Man Richardson come up to me looking worried, andhe says: "Mister Elkins, some of the boys went into that there townin spite of what I told 'em."
"Don't worry," I says. "I'll go git 'em."
I clumb on Cap'n Kidd without stopping to eat supper, and rodeover to War Smoke, and tied my hoss outside the only saloon theywas there. It was a small town, and awful hard looking. As I wentinto the saloon I seen the four Richardson boys, and they wassurrounded by a gang of cut-throats and outlaws. They was a Mexicanthere, too, a tall, slim cuss, with a thin black mustash, and giltbraid onto his jacket.
"So you theenk you settle in Bowie Knife Canyon, eh?" he says,and one of the boys said: "Well, that's what we was aimin' todo."
"I theenk not," he said, grinning like a cougar, and I seen hishands steal to the ivory-handled guns at his hips. "You never heardof Señor Gonzeles Zamora? No? Well, he is a beeghombre inthees country, and he has use for thees canyon in heesbusiness."
"Start the fireworks whenever yo're ready, Gomez," muttered awhite desperado. "We're backin' yore play."
The Richardson boys didn't know what the deal was about, butthey seen they was up agen real trouble, and they turnt pale andlooked around like trapped critters, seeing nothing but hostilefaces and hands gripping guns.
"Who tell you you could settle thees canyon?" ast Gomez. "Whobreeng you here? Somebody from Kansas? Yes? No?"
"No," I said, shouldering my way through the crowd. "My folkscome from Texas. My granddaddy was at San Jacinto. You rememberthat?"
His hands fell away from his guns and his brown hide turnt ashy.The rest of them renegades give back, muttering: "Look out, boys!It's Breckinridge Elkins!"
They all suddenly found they had business at the bar, or playingcards, or something, and Gomez found hisself standing alone. Helicked his lips and looked sick, but he tried to keep up hisbluff.
"You maybe no like what I say about Señor Zamora?" says he. "Butees truth. If I tell him gringoes come to Bowie Knife Canyon, heget very mad!"
"Well, suppose you go tell him now," I said, and so as to givehim a good start, I picked him up and throwed him through thenearest winder.
He picked hisself up and staggered away, streaming blood and Mexprofanity, and them in the saloon maintained a kind of pallidsilence. I hitched my guns for'ard, and said to the escaped convictwhich was tending bar, I says: "You don't want me to pay for thatwinder, do you?"
"Oh, no!" says he, polishing away with his rag at a spittoon hemust of thought was a beer mug. "Oh, no, no, no, no! We needed thatwinder busted fer the ventilation!"
"Then everybody's satisfied," I suggested, and all thehoss-thieves and stagecoach bandits in the saloon give me a heartyagreement.
"That's fine," I says. "Peace is what I aim to have, if I haveto lick every —— in the joint to git it. You boys gitback to the camp."
They was glad to do so, but I lingered at the bar, and bought adrink for a train-robber I'd knowed at Chawed Ear onst, and I said:"Jest who is this cussed Zamora that Mex was spielin' about?"
"I dunno," says he. "I never heard of him before."
"I wouldn't say you was lyin'," I said tolerantly. "Yo're jestsufferin' from loss of memory. Frequently cases like that is curedand their memory restored by a severe shock or jolt like a lickonto the head. Now then, if I was to take my six-shooter butt anddrive yore head through that whiskey barrel with it, I bet it'drestore yore memory right sudden."
"Hold on!" says he in a hurry. "I jest remembered that Zamora isthe boss of a gang of Mexicans which claims Bowie Knife Canyon. Hedeals in hosses."
"You mean he steals hosses," I says, and he says: "I ain'targyin'. Anyway, the canyon is very convenient for his business,and if you dump them immigrants in his front yard, he'll be verymuch put out."
"He sure will," I agreed. "As quick as I can git my hands ontohim."
I finished my drink and strode to the door and turnt suddenlywith a gun in each hand. The nine or ten fellers which had drawedtheir guns aiming to shoot me in the back as I went through thedoor, they dropped their weppins and throwed up their hands andyelled: "Don't shoot!" So I jest shot the lights out, and then wentout and got onto Cap'n Kidd whilst them idjits was hollering andfalling over each other in the dark, and rode out of War Smoke,casually shattering a few winder lights along the street as Iwent.
When I got back to camp the boys had already got there, and thewhole wagon train was holding their weppins and scairt most todeath.
"I'm mighty relieved to see you back safe, Mister Elkins," saysOld Man Richardson. "We heard the shootin' and was afeared thembullies had kilt you. Le's hitch up and pull out right now!"
Them tenderfoots is beyond my comprehension. They'd of allpulled out in the dark if I'd let 'em, and I believe most of 'emstayed awake all night, expecting to be butchered in their sleep. Ididn't say nothing to them about Zamora. The boys hadn't understoodwhat Gomez was talking about, and they warn't no use getting 'emworse scairt than what they generally was.
Well, we pulled out before daylight, because I aimed to rech thecanyon without another stop. We kept rolling and got there purtylate that night. It warn't really no canyon at all, but a whoppingbig valley, well timbered, and mighty good water and grass. It wasa perfect place for a settlement, as I p'inted out, but tenderfootsis powerful pecooliar. I happened to pick our camp site that nighton the spot where the Apaches wiped out a mule-train of Mexicanssix years before, and it was too dark to see the bones scatteredaround till next morning. Old Man Richardson was using what hethought was a round rock for a piller, and when he woke up the nextmorning and found he'd been sleeping with his head onto a humanskull he like to throwed a fit.
And when I wanted to stop for the noonday meal in that theregrove where the settlers hanged them seven cattle-rustlers threeyears before, them folks got the willies when they seen some of theropes still sticking onto the limbs, and wouldn't on no account eattheir dinner there. You got no idee what pecooliar folks themimmigrants is till you've saw some.
Well, we stopped a few miles further on, in another grove in themidst of a wide rolling country with plenty of trees and tallgrass, and I didn't tell 'em that was where them outlaws murderedthe three Grissom boys in their sleep. Old Man Richardson said itlooked like as good a place as any to locate the settlement. But Itold him we was going to look over the whole derned valley beforewe chosed a spot. He kind of wilted and said at least for God'ssake let 'em rest a few days.
I never seen folks which tired out so easy, but I said allright, and we camped there that night. I hadn't saw no signs ofZamora's gang since we come into the valley, and thought likelythey was all off stealing hosses somewhere. Not that it made anydifference.
Early next morning Ned and Joe, the old man's boys, they wanted tolook for deer, and I told 'em not to go more'n a mile from camp,and be keerful, and they said they would, and sot out to thesouth.
I went back of the camp a mile or so to the creek where JimDornley ambushed Tom Harrigan four years before, and taken me aswim. I stayed longer'n I intended to, it was sech a relief to getaway from them helpless tenderfoots for a while, and when I rodeback into camp, I seen Ned approaching with a stranger—ayoung white man, which carried hisself with a air of greatimportance.
"Hey, pap!" hollered young Ned as they dismounted. "Where'sMister Elkins? This feller says we can't stay in Bowie KnifeCanyon!"
"Who're you?" I demanded, emerging from behind a wagon, and thestranger's eyes bugged out as he seen me.
"My name's George Warren," says he. "A wagon train of us justcame into the valley from the east yesterday. We're fromIllinois."
"And by what right does you order people outa this canyon?" Iast.
"We got the fightin'est man in the world guidin' us," says he."I thought he was the biggest man in the world till I seen you. Buthe ain't to be fooled with. When he heard they was another train inthe valley, he sent me to tell you to git. You better, too, if yougot any sense!"
"We don't want no trouble!" quavered Old Man Richardson.
"You got a nerve!" I snorted, and I pulled George Warren's hatdown so the brim come off and hung around his neck like a collar,and turnt him around and lifted him off the ground with a boot inthe pants, and then throwed him bodily onto his hoss. "Go back andtell yore champeen that Bowie Knife Canyon belongs to us!" Iroared, slinging a few bullets around his hoss' feet. "And we giveshim one hour to hitch up and clear out!"
"I'll git even for this!" wept George Warren, as he streaked itfor his home range. "You'll be sorry, you big polecat! Jest wait'llI tell Mister—" I couldn't catch what else he said.
"Now I bet he's mad," says Old Man Richardson. "We better go.After all—"
"Shet up!" I roared. "This here valley's our'n, and I intends todefend our rights to the last drop of yore blood! Hitch them mulesand swing the wagons in a circle! Pile yore saddles and plunderbetwixt the wheels. I got a idee you all fights better behindbreastworks. Did you see their camp, Ned?"
"Naw," says he, "but George Warren said it lies about threemiles east of our'n. Me and Joe got separated and I was swingin'east around the south end of that ridge over there, when I met thisGeorge Warren. He said he was out lookin' for a hoss before sun-upand seen our camp and went back and told their guide, and he senthim over to tell us to git out."
"I'm worried about Joe," said Old Man Richardson. "He ain't comeback."
"I'll go look for him," I said. "I'll also scout their camp, andif the odds ain't more'n ten to one, we don't wait for 'em toattack. We goes over and wipes 'em outpronto. Then we hangstheir fool sculps to our wagon bows as a warnin' to other sechscoundrels."
Old Man Richardson turnt pale and his knees knocked together,but I told him sternly to get to work swinging them wagons, andclumb onto Cap'n Kidd and lit out.
Reason I hadn't saw the smoke of the Illinois camp was onaccount of a thick-timbered ridge which lay east of our camp. Iswung around the south end of that ridge and headed east, and I'dgone maybe a mile and a half when I seen a man riding towardme.
When he seen me he come lickety-split, and I could see the sunshining on his Winchester barrel. I cocked my .45-90 and rodetoward him and we met in the middle of a open flat. And suddenly weboth lowered our weppins and pulled up, breast to breast, glaringat each other.
"Breckinridge Elkins!" says he.
"Cousin Bearfield Buckner!" says I. "Air you the man which sentthat unlicked cub of a George Warren to bringme adefiance?"
"Who else?" he snarled. He always had a awful temper.
"Well," I says, "this here is our valley. You all got to moveon."
"What you mean, move on?" he yelled. "I brung them pore crittersall the way from Dodge City, Kansas, where I encountered 'em bein'tormented by some wuthless buffalo hunters which is no longer inthe land of the livin'. I've led 'em through fire, flood, hostileInjuns and white renegades. I promised to lead 'em into a land ofmilk and honey, and I been firm with 'em, even when they weakenedtheirselves. Even when they begged on bended knees to be allowed togo back to Illinois, I wouldn't hear of it, because, as I told 'em,I knowed what was best for 'em. I had this canyon in mind all thetime. And now you tells me to move on!"
Cousin Bearfield rolled an eye and spit on his hand. I jestwaited.
"What sort of a reply does you make to my request to go on andleave us in peace?" he goes on. "George Warren come back to campwearin' his hat brim around his neck and standin' up in thestirrups because he was too sore to set in the saddle. So I set 'emfortifyin' the camp whilst I went forth to reconnoiter. That word Isent you, I now repeats in person. Yo're my blood-kin, butprinciples comes first!"
"Me, too," I said. "A Nevada Elkins' principles is as loftey asa Texas Buckner's any day. I whupped you a year ago in CougarPaw—"
"That's a cussed lie!" gnashed he. "You taken a base advantageand lammed me with a oak log when I warn't expectin' it!"
"Be that as it may," says I, "—ignorin' the fack that youhad jest beaned me with a rock the size of a water-bucket—theonly way to settle this dispute is to fight it out like gents. Butwe got to determine what weppins to use. The matter's too deep forfists."
"I'd prefer butcher knives in a dark room," says he, "only theyain't no room. If we jest had a couple of sawed-off shotguns, orgood double-bitted axes—I tell you, Breck, le's tie our lefthands together and work on each other with our bowies."
"Naw," I says, "I got a better idee. We'll back our hossestogether, and then ride for the oppersite sides of the flat. Whenwe git there we'll wheel and charge back, shootin' at each otherwith our Winchesters. Time they're empty we'll be clost enough touse our pistols, and when we've emptied them we'll be clost enoughto finish the fight with our bowies."
"Good idee!" agreed Bearfield. "You always was a brainy,cultured sort of a lobo, if you wasn't so damn stubborn. Now, me,I'm reasonable. When I'm wrong, I admit it."
"You ain't never admitted it so far," says I.
"I ain't never been wrong yet!" he roared. "And I'll kyarve thegizzard of the buzzard which says I am! Come on! Le's gitgoin'."
So we started to gallop to the oppersite sides of the flat whenI heard a voice hollering: "Mister Elkins! Mister Elkins!"
"Hold on!" I says. "That's Joe Richardson."
Next minute Joe come tearing out of the bresh from the south ona mustang I hadn't never seen before, with a Mexican saddle andbridle on. He didn't have no hat nor shirt, and his back wascriss-crossed with bloody streaks. He likewise had a cut in hissculp which dribbled blood down his face.
"Mexicans!" he panted. "I got separated from Ned and rodefurther'n I should ought to had. About five miles down the canyon Irun into a big gang of Mexicans—about thirty of 'em. One wasthat feller Gomez. Their leader was a big feller they calledZamora.
"They grabbed me and taken my hoss, and whupped me with theirquirts. Zamora said they was goin' to wipe out every white man inthe canyon. He said his scouts had brung him news of our camp, andanother'n east of our'n, and he aimed to destroy both of 'em at onesweep. Then they all got onto their hosses and headed north, exceptone man which I believe they left there to kill me before hefollered 'em. He hit me with his six-shooter and knocked me down,and then put up his gun and started to cut my throat with hisknife. But I wasn't unconscious like he thought, and I grabbed hisgun and knockedhim down with it, and jumped on his hoss andlit out. As I made for camp I heard you and this gent talkin' loudto each other, and headed this way."
"Which camp was they goin' for first?" I demanded.
"I dunno," he said. "They talked mostly in Spanish I can'tunderstand."
"The duel'll have to wait," I says. "I'm headin' for ourcamp."
"And me for mine," says Bearfield. "Lissen: le's decide it thisway: one that scuppers the most Greasers wins and t'other'n takeshis crowd and pulls out!"
"Bueno!" I says, and headed for camp.
The trees was dense. Them bandits could of passed either to thewest or the east of us without us seeing 'em. I quickly left Joe,and about a quarter of a mile further on I heard a sudden burst offiring and screaming, and then silence. A little bit later I bustout of the trees into sight of the camp, and I cussed earnestly.Instead of being drawed up in a circle, with the men shooting frombetween the wheels and holding them bandits off like I expected,them derned wagons was strung out like they was heading back north.The hosses was cut loose from some of 'em, and mules was layingacrost the poles of the others, shot full of lead. Women wasscreaming and kids was squalling, and I seen young Jack Richardsonlaying face down in the ashes of the campfire with his head in apuddle of blood.
Old Man Richardson come limping toward me with tears runningdown his face. "Mexicans!" he blubbered. "They hit us like aharrycane jest a little while ago! They shot Jack down like he wasa dog! Three or four of the other boys is got knife slashes orbullet marks or bruises from loaded quirt-ends! As they rode offthey yelled they'd come back and kill us all!"
"Why'n't you throw them wagons round like I told you?" Iroared.
"We didn't want no fightin'!" he bawled. "We decided to pull outof the valley and find some more peaceful place—"
"And now Jack's dead and yore stock's scattered!" I raged. "Jestbecause you didn't want to fight! What the hell you ever cross thePecos for if you didn't aim to fight nobody? Set the boys togatherin' sech stock as you got left—"
"But them Mexicans taken Betty!" he shrieked, tearing his scantylocks. "Most of 'em headed east, but six or seven grabbed Bettyright out of the wagon and rode off south with her, drivin' thehosses they stole from us!"
"Well, git yore weppins and foller me!" I roared. "For Lord'ssake forgit they is places where sheriffs and policemen pertecksyou, and make up yore minds tofight! I'm goin' afterBetty."
I headed south as hard as Cap'n Kidd could run. The reason Ihadn't met them Mexicans as I rode back from the flat where I metCousin Bearfield was because they swung around the north end of theridge when they headed east. I hadn't gone far when I heard asudden burst of firing, off to the east, and figgered they'd hitthe Illinois camp. But I reckoned Bearfield had got there ahead of'em. Still, it didn't seem like the shooting was far enough off tobe at the other camp. But I didn't have no time to study it.
Them gal-thieves had a big start, but it didn't do no good. Ihadn't rode over three miles till I heard the stolen hosses runningahead of me, and in a minute I bust out into a open flat and seensix Mexicans driving them critters at full speed, and one of 'emwas holding Betty on the saddle in front of him. It was thatblasted Gomez.
I come swooping down onto 'em, with a six-shooter in my righthand and a bowie knife in my left. Cap'n Kidd needed no guiding.He'd smelt blood and fire and he come like a hurricane on JedgmentDay, with his mane flying and his hoofs burning the grass.
The Mexicans seen I'd ride 'em down before they could get acrostthe flat and they turnt to meet me, shooting as they come. ButMexicans always was rotten shots. As we come together I letbam three times with my .45, and: "Three!" says I.
One of 'em rode at me from the side and clubbed his rifle andhit at my head, but I ducked and made one swipe with my bowie."Four!" says I. Then the others turnt and high-tailed it, lettingthe stolen hosses run where they wanted to. One of 'em headedsouth, but I was crowding Gomez so clost he whirled around and lita shuck west.
"Keep back or I keel the girl!" he howled, lifting a knife, butI shot it out of his hand, and he give a yowl and let go of her andshe fell off into the high grass. He kept fogging it.
I pulled up to see if Betty was hurt, but she warn't—jestscairt. The grass cushioned her fall. I seen her pap and sech ofthe boys as was able to ride was all coming at a high run, so Ileft her to 'em and taken in after Gomez again. Purty soon helooked back and seen me overhauling him, so he reched for hisWinchester which he'd evidently jest thought of using, when aboutthat time his hoss stepped into a prairie dog hole and throwed himover his head. Gomez never twitched after he hit the ground. Iturnt around and rode back, cussing disgustedly, because a Elkinsis ever truthful, and I couldn't honestly count Gomez in myrecord.
But I thought I'd scuttle that coyote that run south, so Iheaded in that direction. I hadn't gone far when I heard a lot ofhosses running somewhere ahead of me and to the east, and thenpresently I bust out of the trees and come onto a flat which run tothe mouth of a narrer gorge opening into the main canyon.
On the left wall of this gorge-mouth they was a ledge aboutfifty foot up, and they was a log cabin on that ledge withloop-holes in the walls. The only way up onto the ledge was a logladder, and about twenty Mexicans was running their hosses towardit, acrost the flat. Jest as I reched the aidge of the bushes, theygot to the foot of the wall and jumped off their hosses and run upthat ladder like monkeys, letting their hosses run any ways. I seena big feller with gold ornaments on his sombrero which I figgeredwas Zamora, but before I could unlimber my Winchester they was allin the cabin and slammed the door.
The next minute cousin Bearfield busted out of the trees a fewhundred yards east of where I was and started recklessly acrost theflat. Imejitely all them Mexicans started shooting at him, and hegrudgingly retired into the bresh again, with terrible language. Iyelled, and rode toward him, keeping to the trees.
"How many you got?" he bellered as soon as he seen me.
"Four," I says, and he grinned like a timber wolf and says: "Igot five! I was ridin' for my camp when I heard the shootin' behindme, and so I knowed it was yore camp they hit first. I turnt aroundto go back and help you out—"
"When did I ever ast you for any help?" I bristled, but he said:"But purty soon I seen a gang of Mexicans comin' around the northend of the ridge, so I taken cover and shot five of 'em out oftheir saddles. They must of knowed it was me, because theyhigh-tailed it."
"How could they know that, you conceited jackass?" I snorted."They run off because they probably thought a whole gang hadambushed 'em."
Old Man Richardson and his boys had rode up whilst we wastalking, and now he broke in with some heat, and said: "That hain'tthe question! The p'int is we got 'em hemmed up on that ledge forthe time bein', and can git away before they come down and massacreus."
"What you talkin' about?" I roared."They're the oneswhich is in need of gittin' away. If any massacrein' is did aroundhere, we does it!"
"It's flyin' in the face of Providence!" he bleated, but I toldhim sternly to shet up, and Bearfield says: "Send somebody over tomy camp to bring my warriors," so I told Ned to go and he pulledout.
Then me and Bearfield studied the situation, setting our hossesin the open whilst bullets from the cabin whistled all around us,and the Richardsons hid in the bresh and begged us to bekeerful.
"That ledge is sheer on all sides," says Bearfield. "Nobodycouldn't climb down onto it from the cliff. And anybody tryin' toclimb that ladder in the teeth of twenty Winchesters would be plumcrazy."
But I says, "Look, Bearfield, how the ledge overhangs about tenfoot to the left of that ladder. A man could stand at the foot ofthe bluff there and them coyotes couldn't see to shoot him."
"And," says Bearfield, "he could sling his rope up over thatspur of rock at the rim, and they couldn't shoot it off. Only wayto git to it would be to come out of the cabin and rech down andcut it with a knife. Door opens toward the ladder, and they ain'tno door in the wall on that side. A man could climb right up ontothe ledge before they knowed it—if they didn't shoot himthrough the loop-holes as he come over the rim."
"You stay here and shoot 'em when they tries to cut the rope," Isays.
"You go to hell!" he roared. "I see through yore hellish plot.You aims to git up there and kill all them Mexes before I has achance at 'em. You thinks you'll outwit me! By golly, I got myrights, and—"
"Aw, shet up," I says disgustedly. "We'll both go." I holleredto Old Man Richardson: "You all lay low in the bresh and shoot atevery Mex which comes outa the cabin."
"What you goin' to do now?" he hollered. "Don't berash—"
But me and Bearfield was already headed for the ledge at a deadrun.
This move surprized the Mexicans, because they knowed wecouldn't figger to ride our hosses up that ladder. Being surprizedthey shot wild and all they done was graze my sculp and nickBearfield's ear. Then, jest as they begun to get their range andstarted trimming us clost, we swerved aside and thundered in underthe overhanging rock.
We clumb off and tied our hosses well apart, otherwise they'd ofstarted fighting each other. The Mexicans above us was yelling mostamazing but they couldn't even see us, much less shoot us. Iwhirled my lariat, which is plenty longer and stronger than theaverage lasso, and roped the spur of rock which jutted up jestbelow the rim.
"I'll go up first," says I, and Bearfield showed his teeth anddrawed his bowie knife.
"You won't neither!" says he. "We'll cut kyards! High manwins!"
So we squatted, and Old Man Richardson yelled from the trees:"For God's sake, what are you doin' now? They're fixin' to rollrocks down onto you!"
"You tend to yore own business," I advised him, and shuffled thecards which Bearfield hauled out of his britches. As it turnt out,the Mexes had a supply of boulders in the cabin. They jest openedthe door and rolled 'em toward the rim. But they shot off the ledgeand hit beyond us.
Bearfield cut, and yelped: "A ace! You cain't beat that!"
"I can equal it," I says, and drawed a ace of diamonds.
"I wins!" he clamored. "Hearts beats diamonds!"
"That rule don't apply here," I says. "It war a draw,and—"
"Why, you—!" says Bearfield, leaning for'ard to grab thedeck, and jest then a rock about the size of a bushel basket comebounding over the ledge and hit a projection which turnt itscourse, so instead of shooting over us, it fell straight down andhit Bearfield smack between the ears.
It stunned him for a instant, and I jumped up and startedclimbing the rope, ignoring more rocks which come thundering down.I was about half-way up when Bearfield come to, and he riz with abeller of rage. "Why, you dirty, double-crossin' so-and-so!" sayshe, and started throwing rocks at me.
They was a awful racket, the Mexicans howling, and guns banging,and Bearfield cussing, and Old Man Richardson wailing: "They'recrazy, I tell you! They're both crazy as mudhens! I think everybodywest of the Pecos must be maneyacks!"
Bearfield grabbed the rope and started climbing up behind me,and about that time one of the Mexicans run to cut the rope. Butfor onst my idiotic follerers was on the job. He run into aboutseven bullets that hit him all to onst, and fell down jest abovethe spur where the loop was caught onto.
So when I reched my arm over the rim to pull myself up theycouldn't see me on account of the body. But jest as I was pullingmyself up, they let go a boulder at random and it bounded along andbounced over the dead Mexican and hit me right smack in the face.It was about as big as a pumpkin.
I give a infuriated beller and swarmed up onto the ledge and itsurprized 'em so that most of them missed me clean. I only got oneslug through the arm. Before they had time to shoot again I made ajump to the wall and flattened myself between the loop-holes, andgrabbed the rifle barrels they poked through the loop-holes andbent 'em and rooint 'em. Bearfield was coming up the rope rightbehind me, so I grabbed hold of the logs and tore that whole sideof the wall out, and the roof fell in and the other walls comeapart.
In a instant all you could see was logs falling and rolling andMexicans busting out into the open. Some got pinned by the fallinglogs and some was shot by my embattled Kansans and Bearfield'sIllinois warriors which had jest come up, and some fell offa theledge and broke their fool necks.
One of 'em run agen me and tried to stab me so I throwed himafter them which had already fell off the ledge, and hollered:"Five for me, Bearfield!"
"——!" says Bearfield, arriving onto the scene withblood in his eye and his bowie in his hand. Seeing which a bigMexican made for him with a butcher knife, which was pore jedgmenton his part, and in about the flick of a mustang's tail Bearfieldhad a sixth man to his credit.
This made me mad. I seen some of the Mexicans was climbing downthe ladder, so I run after 'em, and one turnt around and missed meso close with a shotgun he burnt my eyebrows. I taken it away fromhim and hit him over the head with it, and yelled: "Six for me,too, Cousin Bearfield!"
"Lookout!" he yelled. "Zamora's gittin' away!"
I seen Zamora had tied a rope to the back side of the ledge andwas sliding down it. He dropped the last ten feet and run for acorral which was full of hosses back up the gorge, behind theledge.
We seen the other Mexicans was all laid out or running off upthe valley, persued by our immigrants, so I went down the ladderand Bearfield slid down my rope. Zamora's rope wouldn't of held ourweight. We grabbed our hosses and lit out up the gorge, around abend of which Zamora was jest disappearing.
He had a fast hoss and a long start, but I'd of overtook himwithin the first mile, only Cap'n Kidd kept trying to stop andfight Bearfield's hoss, which was about as big and mean as he was.After we'd run about five miles, and come out of the gorge onto ahigh plateau, I got far enough ahead of Bearfield so Cap'n Kiddforgot about his hoss, and then he settled down to business and runZamora's hoss right off his laigs.
They was a steep slope on one side of us, and a five hundredfoot drop on the other, and Zamora seen his hoss was winded, so hejumped off and started up the slope on foot. Me and Bearfieldjumped off, too, and run after him. Each one of us got him by alaig as he was climbing up a ledge.
"Leggo my prisoner!" roared Bearfield.
"He's my meat," I snarled. "This makes me seven! I wins!"
"You lie!" bellered Bearfield, jerking Zamora away from me andhitting me over the head with him. This made me mad so I grabbedZamora and throwed him in Bearfield's face. His spurs jabbedBearfield in the belly, and my cousin give a maddened beller andfell on me fist and tush, and in the battle which follered weforgot all about Zamora till we heard a man scream. He'd snuck awayand tried to mount Cap'n Kidd. We stopped fighting and lookedaround jest in time to see Cap'n Kidd kick him in the belly andknock him clean over the aidge of the cliff.
"Well," says Bearfield disgustedly, "that decides nothin', andour score is a draw."
"It was my hoss which done it," I said. "It ought a count forme."
"Over my corpse it will!" roared Bearfield. "But look here, it'snearly night. Le's git back to the camps before my follerers startcuttin' yore Kansans' throats. Whatever fight is to be fought todecide who owns the canyon, it's betwixt you and me, not them."
"All right," I said. "If my Kansas boys ain't already kilt allyore idjits, we'll fight this out somewhere where we got betterlight and more room. But I jest expect to find yore Illinoisanswrithin' in their gore."
"Don't worry about them," he snarled. "They're wild as painterswhen they smells gore. I only hope they ain't kiltall yoreKansas mavericks."
So we pulled for the valley. When we got there it was dark, andas we rode outa the gorge, we seen fires going on the flat, andfolks dancing around 'em, and fiddles was going at a greatrate.
"What the hell is this?" bellered Bearfield, and then Old ManRichardson come up to us, overflowing with good spirits. "Glad tosee you gents!" he says. "This is a great night! Jack warn't kilt,after all. Jest creased. We come out of that great fight whole andsound—"
"But what you doin'?" roared Bearfield. "What's my people doin'here?"
"Oh," says Old Man Richardson, "we got together after you gentsleft and agreed that the valley was big enough for both parties, sowe decided to jine together into one settlement, and we'recelebratin'. Them Illinois people is fine folks. They're aspeace-lovin' as we are."
"Blood-thirsty painters!" I sneers to Cousin Bearfield.
"I ain't no bigger liar'n you air," he says, more in sorrer thanin anger. "Come on. They ain't nothin' more we can do. We airswamped in a mess of pacifism. The race is degeneratin'. Le's headfor Bear Creek. This atmosphere of brotherly love is more'n I canstand."
We set our hosses there a minnit and watched them pilgrims danceand listened to 'em singing. I squints across at Cousin Bearfield'sface and doggoned if it don't look almost human in the firelight.He hauls out his plug of tobaccer and offers me first chaw. Then weheaded yonderly, riding stirrup to stirrup.
Must of been ten miles before Cap'n Kidd retches over and bitesCousin Bearfield's hoss on the neck. Bearfield's hoss bites back,and by accident Cap'n Kidd kicks Cousin Bearfield on the ankle. Helets out a howl and thumps me over the head, and I hit him, andthen we gits our arms around each other and roll in the bresh in atangle.
We fit fer two hours, I reckon, and we'd been fighting yet if wehadn't scrambled under Cap'n Kidd's hoofs where he was feeding. Hekicked Cousin Bearfield one way and me the other.
I got up after a while and went hunting my hat. The breshcrackled, and in the moonlight I could see Cousin Bearfield on hishands and knees. "Whar air ye, Cousin Breckinridge?" says he. "Airyou all right?"
Well, mebbe my clothes was tore more'n his was and a lip splitand a rib or two busted, but I could still see, which was more'n hecould say with both his eyes swole that way. "Shore I'm all right,"I says. "How airyou, Cousin Bearfield?"
He let out a groan and tried to git up. He made 'er on thesecond heave and stood there swaying. "Why, I'm fine," he says."Plumb fine. I feel a whole lot better, Breck. I was afraid fer aminnit back there, whilst we was ridin' along, that that daggonebrotherly love would turn out to be catchin'."
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