Chapter 13
In the slow, hot days that followed, Longarm spent most of his time inside the sandstone caves looking for clues and coins. He found several of the latter and some interesting Spanish relics like buttons and buckles. But most of all, he was looking for Jimmy’s body, and it wasn’t until the fourth day that he finally found it. The outlaws hadn’t been as clever as Longarm with his instant rock-slide grave. They’d actually taken the time to bury poor old Jimmy, and although the corpse was very old and decayed, there was enough left to identify the prospector.
Longarm took the discovery hard. Jimmy had once saved his life, and the old goat had been a true friend. Longarm used his knife to whittle a nice wooden cross made out of a wooden box, then he carved Jimmy’s name in it while Preacher Dan said a few words of prayerful farewell.
When their little service was over, Longarm walked out into the desert until the moon came over the horizon and he tried to get a grip on his feelings. He lived a very long, full life, Longarm told himself. Jimmy Cox was one of the very rare people I’ve ever met who did exactly what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it. I’m sure that, if he had a second chance at life, he’d play it out exactly the same way, even knowing his sad end.
Longarm felt better when he returned to their camp. He slept well that night and continued to wait and recover. His leg was healing and Dan’s shoulder was also coming along just fine. But where was Hank Bass and his boys? Surely they’d be back, wouldn’t they?
It took another four days before Longarm spotted the horsemen coming across the desert. There were five, and he watched them for a long time to see if they might rein off and go in another direction. But they did not.
“Dan, I’m going to give you the shotgun this time and I’ll handle the Winchester. Even you can’t miss with that big scattergun.”
“I’m still not sure that I can do this.”
“Well, then,” Longarm said, “we’ll probably be killed. And while I know that doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to you, it does to me. Besides, these will be the same ones that murdered poor Jimmy.”
“Yeah,” Dan said, “I expect that’s true.”
Longarm loaded and checked the double-barreled shotgun, then handed it to Dan. “I’m sorry I have to ask for your help, but the odds are too great against me alone. I can probably kill one, maybe even two, before they reach cover, but that would still leave three.”
“Yeah,” Dan said, handling the shotgun. “All right, I’ll do my part.”
“Thanks,” Longarm said with relief. “That’s all I wanted to know. Now, you move into that cave and stay hidden until they get right up here.”
“We’re going to let them do that?”
“Yes,” Longarm said. “Despite what you might think, I’ll order them to surrender and drop their weapons. If they don’t, then it’s going to be war and I expect you to fire my biggest cannon. Trouble is, we need to take at least one of them alive. I mean to find out exactly who killed Jimmy.”
“Okay,” Dan said in reluctant agreement as he started for the cave.
“And, Dan?”
“Yeah?”
“You won’t miss if you pull the triggers and have that shotgun pointed in the right direction.”
Dan nodded without a word and then disappeared in the cave to wait. Longarm inspected his Winchester and six-gun. When he was completely satisfied that they were in good working order, he hunkered down behind some high rocks and watched the approaching riders. They were a bad-looking bunch. Two were Indians and rode bareback with rifles resting across the bare withers of their skinny ponies. The other three were white men of the roughest kind. One was a bearded giant and the other two were thin, hard-looking men that Longarm judged to be professional killers. Longarm decided to shoot this pair first, then try for the two Indians. He’d save the giant for last because the man was the largest target and might be a shade slower than his leaner companions.
Because of the steepness of the slope, the outlaws were forced to dismount and tie their horses several hundred feet downhill, which was very much to Longarm’s liking as he fixed the first of the gunfighters in his rifle sights. It was crazy to give them a warning, but he was no executioner and he had promised Dan that he would at least offer them a chance to surrender.
“I’m a U.S. marshal!” he shouted. “Throw down your weapons and …”
Every last one of the outlaws went for their weapons without any thought of surrender. Longarm shot one of the gunfighters in the chest and managed to drop the other one before he could return fire. The Indians were his third and fourth targets, but they were too quick and clever to stand and stare into the low sun trying to identify a target. Instead, they dove into some brush before Longarm could unleash a third bullet.
The giant was slow of mind and body. He chose to attack on foot, and Longarm would have killed him easily enough except that the fool lost his footing and crashed into the brush. At that very instant, Dan chose to fire the shotgun and a blast swept harmlessly over the giant’s head. But the fool jumped up, and Dan fired a second blast that nearly beheaded the giant. It was a terrible, grisly thing to see that huge body crash to earth and then begin to flop around in the grip of death.
Longarm had to turn away for a moment as the sounds of their gunfire echoed off into the hills and then everything became very silent. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Dan holding the smoking shotgun with a horrified expression marking his haggard old face.
“Dan, get down!” Longarm shouted.
Longarm’s warning came too late. One of the Indians popped up like a cork in a tub and shot Dan, who staggered back into the cave.
“Dan!” Longarm shouted.
There was no answer and Longarm felt a sudden rage, but he’d been in too many fights to do anything foolish or rash. He’d only seen Dan for an instant and didn’t know if the man was dead or alive, but it seemed pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to be much help.
Longarm caught a glimpse of one of the Indians moving toward the horses. Suddenly, he knew that he had to stampede their animals so that the Indians could not either get to their canteens or escape and perhaps find some willing friends.
Stampeding the horses was easy and only took a few well-placed bullets to send the five animals rearing back on their reins and breaking free. Longarm saw an Indian leap up and try to catch one of the ponies. He snapped off a rifle shot and the Indian disappeared into the brush.
“Did I get him?” he asked himself out loud.
Longarm didn’t think so. Or, if he had, he figured that the Indian was only grazed because he had dived rather than fallen into the brush. Longarm glanced up at the sky. It was almost sundown, and he knew that the Indians were probably Apache and that they would wait until after dark to make their move. The trouble was, would they come after him, or simply leave and go after their stampeded horses? Longarm figured they’d do the latter. Apache were brave, but they were also very smart, meaning that they might decide to leave, get help, an return when they had the advantage of surprise.
I can’t allow that to happen, Longarm thought. I’ve got to go out there and finish them off or they’ll come back with reinforcements. and I’m as good as dead without a horse to ride away on.
Longarm cursed his decision to shoot the two gunfighters first. He would have been better off to kill these Indians. A couple of gunfighters would have acted very predictably and come after him, making things much, much easier.
Darkness fell gently across the desert and the sky flamed with rose colors. The air cooled and the heat-constricted earth seemed to sigh with relief as the first stars faintly appeared in the indigo sky.
Longarm began to retreat until his back was to the cave. He ducked inside to find Preacher Dan still breathing but unconscious. Working quickly in the darkness, Longarm groped for the man’s bullet wound. When he found it, he knew that he had to get Dan to a doctor or the man was finished. He was probably finished anyway, but perhaps not. The fresh bullet had struck the old prospector in the ribs and most likely had broken several, but Longarm was able to determine that the Apache bullet had passed through Dan’s body on a trajectory that might not have ripped apart any vital organs. The wound was still bleeding, so Longarm did the best bandaging job that he could, given his difficult circumstances.