“What about the herd?” Gene asked.
Katie shook her head. “There’s no way the horses can get through there.”
“Then we are back where we started,” Gene complained.
“Maybe not,” Jim said. “I have an idea.”
Jim’s idea was to start through the needle with the three women, Gene, and Barry. Frank, who was arguably the best rider of the entire outfit, would remain behind. His job was to start the herd through Diablo Canyon. By firing a couple of shots behind the horses, Frank would start them running through the canyon.
Jim believed that the horses would draw fire from whoever was waiting for them, and that shooting would urge the horses on, thus ensuring that they ran all the way through the canyon. It would also keep the bushwhackers occupied so that they might not notice the absence of Jim and the others.
When Jim, Gene, Barry, Katie, and her daughters were in position at the mouth of Purgatory’s Needle, Frank fired three shots, and the canyon echoed them back, giving the illusion of many more shots being fired. The horses, just as Jim hoped they would, broke into a frenzied gallop.
As the horses rushed through the canyon, the discipline Bustamante had counted on from his men broke. One man fired, then the others, thinking that was the signal from Bustamante, began firing as well. Scores of shots rang out, echoing loudly through the canyon walls. Panic-stricken, the horses ran faster.
“Where are they?” Busamante shouted, looking down at the galloping horses, trying to find the Americans. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” Gonzales shouted. “I don’t see anyone!”
“Stop firing! Stop firing!” Bustamante shouted, standing up and waving his arms.
Bustamante’s attempt to stop the shooting went unheeded. The shooting continued until the last horse thundered through to the other side of the canyon. Behind, five horses lay dead, two from bullet wounds, and three from broken necks brought about by collision during the melee.
“There they are!” Gonzales shouted, pointing to the north. There, nearly a mile ahead, Bustamante saw the Americans rejoining the horses, their stampede now over.
“Get them!” he shouted. “Get them!”
“Capitán, they are nearly to the border,” Gonzales said. “Even if we were mounted, we wouldn’t be able to catch up with them.”
Bustamante stood on the edge of the cliff and cursed in impotent frustration. Gonzales turned from Bustamante, so his capitán wouldn’t see the smile on his face. He wasn’t the only one who had let the Americans get away.
They didn’t need a sign telling them they had returned to the United States. They crossed a river, and though it was much the same as rivers they had crossed over the last several days, once they were on the other side, the difference was palpable.
Texas.
It was home because of language, though in this part of Texas nearly as many people spoke Spanish as spoke English. It was home because of the attitude, because here no man would ever let another assume authority over him by reason of birth, position, or wealth.
“I say there,” Jim once heard an Englishman say to a cowboy. “Could you direct me to your superior?”
The cowboy spit a wad of tobacco at the Englishman’s feet, then glared at him. “Mister, that son of a bitch hasn’t been born yet,” he said.
Jim left the herd just outside El Paso while he went into town to send a telegram to Clay Allison. That was when he learned that Allison was dead. He hurried back to the others to share the news.
Frank smiled. “Then that settles it,” he said. “We take the horses to the Kincaid Ranch.”
“What about it, Jim? Do we?” Gene asked. Marilou stepped up next to Gene, while Brenda sidled up to Barry. Gene, Barry, and both girls looked at Jim, the expressions on their faces indicating the answer they wanted to hear from him.
“I reckon something like that would be up to Katie,” Jim finally said.
“I can’t think of any better way to start a new life,” Katie said.
Jim smiled broadly. “All right, boys, let’s get this herd out to the ranch.”
It was just after dusk by the time they turned the herd onto the Kincaid rangeland. With the horses finally delivered, and their long journey over, everyone was looking forward to a home-cooked supper, then a good night’s rest. What none of them realized was that Shardeen was waiting for them in the barn.
Shardeen had correctly figured that, once they got word of Allison’s death, they would bring the horses here, to the Kincaid Ranch. He had watched them turn the horses out into the pasture. Then he hurried back to set up his surprise for them.
“Are they comin’?” Tom Dingus asked. Shardeen had picked up Dingus and three other men in town. He had made the mistake last time of trying to take the Robison outfit on with just two men, believing that position and surprise would carry the day for him. This time he had five guns, plus position and surprise. He was taking absolutely no chances.
“Dingus, take Pete with you and get over there by the granary shed. That way, we’ll have them in a cross fire. Open up on them as soon as they get into range,” Shardeen said.
“Come on, Pete,” Dingus said, starting from the barn toward the granary shed. He turned back toward Shardeen. “What about the women?” he asked.
“What about ’em?”
“They’re likely to get caught up in the line of fire.”
“Don’t matter none to me. Kill the women, too,” Shardeen said. “I want ’em all dead.”
As Jim and the others approached the ranch, they were in high spirits. They were totally unprepared for what happened next.
A gunshot rang out from the dark maw of the barn. That shot was followed by another and another until soon the entire valley rang with the crash and clatter of rifle and pistol fire. Gun flashes lit up the night, and bullets whistled and whined by the returning cowboys.
“Who’s shooting at us?” Gene shouted.
“Katie, take the girls and get out of here!” Jim shouted. “Gene, you and Barry go right. Frank, come left with me!”
As the guns banged and crashed around them, the four men split up, two running to the right and two going to the left, in order to get out of the line of fire. As they did, Jim made plans as to how he could get to the barn.
“Look there. Maybe we can use that,” Jim said, pointing. “Looks like that gully winds around all the way up to the barn.”
The shooting continued unabated, and Jim noticed with some surprise that their assailants seemed to be shooting at each other. Almost as soon as Jim made the discovery, Dingus and Pete came to the same conclusion. After much shouting and calling, the shooting finally stopped.
“You dumb bastards! You were shooting at us!” Dingus called.
“Well, what the hell were you doing in the way?” Shardeen called back through the night.
“I’m here because you told me to be here!” Dingus answered.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Jim made his move. Running low and crouching over, he darted through the darkness until he reached the edge of the barn. Then he slipped inside.
“Where’d they go?” Jim heard Shardeen ask. The voice was close, no more than fifteen feet away. Jim stood very still and looked toward the sound of the voice. He was rewarded for his patience when Shardeen stepped out of the shadows and into the doorway. That had the effect of silhouetting him against the lighter area outside the barn.
“I’m right here,” Jim said from within the barn.
“Son of a bitch!” Shardeen shouted, spinning around and firing. Even though Shardeen was only firing at the sound of his voice, his bullet came frighteningly close, so close that Jim felt the puff of air as the bullet sped past his head. Jim returned fire.