Blaze! Western Series: Six Adult Western Novels Page 6

  She said, "Those soldiers are putting up a good fight."

  J.D. nodded. "From here every one of them looks to be alive and shooting."

  The war party must have swooped in on the stage from around an outcrop of land that would have shielded them until the last second. Then they pounced. It was apparent what had happened: their standard operating procedure. They killed one of the lead horses pulling the stage. This had caused the stage to shudder to a stop.

  Difficult to tell for sure from this distance but it looked like the soldiers were giving better than they got! The cavalrymen had brought their horses down upon the ground, making difficult targets of themselves. Others took cover under the stage itself.

  J.D. and Kate stood slightly behind and to the side of Paco and Rosa Diablo, who were transfixed by the battle unfolding around the crippled stage, as were the members of their gang. The five hardcases who rode for them were crouched at the rim of the ridge, observing the action in the distance as if it were a sporting event. They didn't much care who won or lost since the soldiers, if they weren’t busy with the Apaches, would have been happy to track down and wipe out this outlaw band.

  The Apaches rode around and around the stagecoach. Two of their numbers were already lifeless corpses sprawled in the dust. The warriors remaining were armed with carbines, firing while riding bareback with an agility that made them difficult targets.

  J.D. had spent enough time in these parts to know the Apache ways. They were born warriors. They were raised to be warriors. It was a warrior society. An Apache brave expected to die in battle. They had taken on the military detail escorting the stage not in spite of the fact that the cavalry was present but because they were there. The Mexicans called it machismo.

  Another Indian bit the dust.

  J.D. shifted his attention to the job.

  The apprehension of Rosa and Paco.

  There could be little doubt what was on their mind. They had intended to waylay the stage and ambush the troops at that same spot. They now intended to enjoy the show and would then raid the victors if it looked like a sure thing or simply write off this day as a loss and return to camp.

  There would never be a better opportunity to nab them, considering his and Kate’s position standing so near them. Who knew when another chance like this would occur? But how to communicate that idea to Kate?

  Suddenly there was a six-gun in Kate’s hand. She took three steps forward and pressed the muzzle of her revolver into the small of the Rosa’s back. With her other hand she deftly removed the six-shooter from Rosa’s holster. She discarded the gun with a toss.

  She said quietly, "I want you to get on your horse. We’re riding out. Do it or I’ll blow you to kingdom come, border bitch."

  J.D. thought, Well that was easy! Kate had warned him that they’d be improvising.

  Paco started to turn, sensing the shift in his surroundings.

  J.D. swung his gun up, toward Luis Paco.

  And that’s when things turned to shit.

  Rosa pivoted with a suddenness so blindingly quick that it caught Kate off-guard. Kate’s over-confidence allowed her gun to be brushed aside when Rosa whirled to face her. The gun flew from Kate’s hand. As part of the same maneuver, Rosa’s knee came up hard into Kate’s crotch.

  The vicious attack exploded a visible flare of pain through Kate’s system. She reflexively doubled up, cursing as she sank to the ground.

  Paco was unleathering his gun.

  J.D had a quick decision to make. His focus had to be on Paco but with Kate out of commission he also had to take care of Rosa.

  But first, Paco!

  He ignored his initial impulse to shoot the bastard in the head. Belton said he wanted them alive, preferably. To carve the rep J.D. wanted for him and Kate meant keeping the customer happy. So he did not kill Paco. He did, however, swing the barrel of his pistol around so it caught the bandit upside the head.

  Paco’s eyes rolled back until the whites showed. His knees buckled. He made a funny sound. He toppled to the ground, not dead like Santone the night before but definitely out for the count.

  J.D. knew how to buffalo a man without taking his life.

  He spun to his right.

  Rosa was in the act of retrieving the gun that Kate had lost. She tracked the gun up and it started barking and spitting saffron flame in J.D.’s direction.

  He went into a dive and rolled. Bullets ate up the space where he had been. He came out of the roll and drew his second gun. Rosa, seeing that she had missed, darted for cover behind a formation of boulders before J.D. could trigger a shot in her direction.

  Gunfire opened up from the direction of the five gang members. They realized what was happening. J.D. heard the bullets whistling past.

  Luckily, the hardcases were not marksmen by any stretch. It was nigh impossible to hit anything anyway in a gunfight like this unless there was a sharpshooter in the bunch, as he and Kate both happened to be. J.D. had learned from experience that untrained gunnies like these boys tended to point their guns in the general direction of their target and start blasting wildly in the heat of the moment...though this did not mean that a lucky shot wouldn’t be enough to end his or Kate’s life!

  His six-guns blazed.

  Three outlaws spun and pitched to the ground, dead. The other two threw themselves down, flattening against the ground. They continued firing.

  Rosa leaned around a boulder and fired.

  J.D. stood his ground with Paco sprawled at his feet. He pegged off a shot at Rosa that ricocheted off the boulders with a keening whistle.

  Kate reached his side. She appeared recovered from the dirty blow Rosa had struck. Her breathing was short but the thrust of her jaw showed a determination and strength that J.D. had come to know so well. Without hesitation she reached down and drew the revolver from the unconscious Paco’s holster.

  J.D. nodded in the direction where Rosa had taken cover.

  "Keep her pinned down."

  "With pleasure."

  They assumed their combat position when caught together in a gun battle. Back to back. Kate fired more rounds that ricocheted off those boulders. Meanwhile, the irons in both of J.D.’s fists grew warm as he peppered the area where the remaining pair of outlaws hugged the dirt.

  J.D. reached over a shoulder. He handed Kate one of his guns.

  "Here. Keep ‘em all pinned down."

  She said again, "With pleasure."

  She fired in each direction. Another ricochet whined off the boulders. Rosa’s flaming red hair had started to appear but quickly drew back while a scream, sounding like that of a woman, came from the direction of two hardcases.

  "Owwww! Damn! She shot my goddamn ear off!"

  Satisfied that this front was well in hand, J.D. grabbed the reins of Paco’s horse. The animal was spooked by the gunfire and looked ready to bolt. J.D. whispered to the animal in Spanish, calming it even as Kate kept firing. With the horse under his control, J.D. reached down and fastened one hand on Paco’s gun belt. With the other hand he snagged the unconscious outlaw by the scruff of his neck. He heaved Paco into the saddle, wrapping Paco’s arms around the horse’s neck. He drew a length of rawhide from his back pocket. He bound Paco’s wrists.

  Paco started regaining consciousness. He sneezed and struggled when he realized that his face was buried in the mane of his horse. He commenced cursing in vivid, fiery Spanish, struggling against the rawhide which J.D. carried expressly for this purpose.

  J.D. said, "If I was you, I’d keep my head down and press my knees against this horse for dear life. Wouldn’t want you to fall off and break your neck." He called over to Kate, ""Ready!"

  Kate fired off parting shots and ran low to where J.D. waited, holding the reins of their horses. The stallion and Kate’s mount were no strangers to gunfire. In fact, they had been well trained not to flee from the sound. Kate and J.D. mounted up.

  Paco never stopped his cursing.

  Kate said, "What about Rosa? W
e’re breaking up the set!"

  At that moment, Rosa appeared from behind the boulders. She opened fire on them.

  J.D. said, "We’ll put the set together again at the first opportunity. For now, let’s ride!"

  Chapter 15

  After the last Apache brave was shot from his horse, a weighty stillness blanketed the desert surrounding the stagecoach.

  Lieutenant Jamie McAllen rose to his feet, reloading his Winchester. A thin ribbon of smoke curled from its muzzle. The ground was littered everywhere with spent shell casings. Gunsmoke still soiled the morning air.

  He glanced about, taking in his surroundings.

  One by one his men were standing, coaxing their horses up from their prone positions. The whinnies of the horses indicated that they were as glad as the soldiers that the ordeal was over. There had not been a single casualty! Even the bewhiskered, cantankerous stage driver emerged from where he had been working a carbine beneath his stage.

  The attack had come with startling swiftness, but Jamie’s handpicked men had proven their worth, instantly assuming a defensive perimeter around the stage and repulsing a spirited assault. There could be no fiercer opponent in combat than the American Indian, and of those the Apache embodied a boldness and ferocity that was hard to imagine unless encountered firsthand.

  Sergeant Farquart approached.

  "Sir, Hebley and Crider each got winged. The medic’s patched them up now and they’ll be ready to ride."

  Jamie said, "Let the men know that each of them will be put in for a commendation." He drew the back of his hand across his brow, wiping the grime of battle. "That was one hell of a fight, wouldn’t you say, Sergeant?"

  "I would indeed, sir. Funny thing is, I don’t think they were after the money, though they would have put it to good use buying guns and whiskey had they gotten their hands on it. But since there were only six braves, I’d wager this was a spur of the moment thing. They were looking for miners or a homestead to raid but when they spotted us, well, we were in for it."

  The Indians’ ponies wandered aimlessly near their fallen riders.

  Jamie found it difficult to believe that a short while ago he had considered the braves from a distance with the eye of a painter, seeing in them a representation of the American savage worthy of portrayal on canvas.

  He said, "When we first saw them, Sergeant, they looked so...noble. Now look at them."

  The bodies sprawled in the dirt had been torn asunder by multiple gunshot wounds.

  Farquart said, "I doubt these fellows ever read Alfred, Lord Tennyson but I suspect they’d understand perfectly."

  "The Charge of the Light Brigade? The glory of the suicidal charge?"

  "Nobility comes in many guises, sir."

  Farquart’s tone was fatherly. Jamie didn’t mind.

  Buzzards began circling overhead as if out of nowhere. A strange, faint buzzing near the ground puzzled him for a moment. Then he realized the flies had descended on the corpses.

  A crackle of distant gunfire from not far away carried to them on the still air.

  Farquart stared at a bluff about a half mile away, the direction that sounded like the source of the shooting.

  "Well now, that’s passing strange. Small arms fire."

  "It can’t very well be connected with this dust-up, can it, Sarge?"

  "Not likely." Farquart wore a puzzled frown. "But trouble just the same. Could be miners having fun with target practice but that ain’t likely unless they’re blind drunk. No white man out here is going to draw attention to his whereabouts with unnecessary gunfire. Not with Apache war parties roaming the land."

  A lapse in the distant gunfire. Then it resumed, briefly. Then it ceased, leaving the air again peaceful except for the grunting of physical exertion as the stage driver profanely bossed the soldiers who loosed the dead horse from its hitch and dragged the carcass away. Nasty, sweaty work accomplished with considerable effort and much cussing.

  Jamie said, "Sergeant, let’s ride over and scout out what’s going on."

  Farquart studied the horizon with narrowed eyes.

  "I’m not sure that’s a good idea, sir. Our job is to guard the payroll—"

  "The payroll will be safe with the men. That bluff over there is no more than a few minutes ride. We’ll be back in no time." Without waiting for a reply, Jamie raised his voice. "Corporal Brandvold, I’m leaving you in charge. The sergeant and I will be back directly."

  Brandvold had commanded a Confederate regiment during what he still referred to as The War of Northern Aggression. He was a born rebel but a damn good soldier.

  He called back, "Yes, sir!"

  Farquart said, "Lieutenant, we should take another man or two along to be on the safe side."

  Jamie waved a hand dismissively.

  "We heard no more than a flurry of shots, and handguns at that. We’ve just withstood an assault by Apache braves wielding carbines. Let’s go! We can take on anybody!"

  "Begging your pardon, sir, but you’ve got the fever. Bloodlust can take a man when there’s too much fresh killing in the air. Don’t go, Jamie. It will lead to no good."

  Jamie heard the words but his heart beat too fast. Yes! Bloodlust! He was invincible. He would become a painter, an artist, in his old age. For now he was a soldier! Life was a grand adventure.

  He spurred his mount into a gallop, leaving Farquart to curse and ride after him.

  Chapter 16

  Jaybird said, "Bitch shot my ear clean off! Damn, that smarts."

  He pressed a bandanna to the stubble of the bloody gristle where his right ear had been.

  Rosa thumbed cartridges into her gun.

  "Stop your whining or I’ll shoot your balls clean off. We have new trouble, amigos."

  The skirmish around the stage was over. A pair of cavalrymen, leaving a trail of dust behind them, could be seen galloping in their direction.

  Rosa prided herself on having a quick mind and fast reflexes, and yet she could hardly grasp how rapidly events had unfolded around her. Everything had turned to shit.

  They had Paco!

  It would never have happened but for the Apache raid on the stagecoach. How could one not be distracted by such a spectacle? And yet that lapse of attention had allowed J.D. Blaze and his wife to turn the tables. She should have listened to Paco. He was a rotten man except when she needed a stud, or when she used their gang as she had hoped to on this day. Paco had tried to warn her.

  She would yet carve and scar the smooth flesh of Kate Blaze, who acted so cocky as if she were the equal of or better than Rosa Diablo.

  But first things first. The approaching soldiers must be dealt with.

  She said, "They’ll be riding in on us within minutes."

  Spivey said, "Then let’s make tracks. We can catch up with Paco easy."

  Rosa said, "No. The soldiers will see our dust." She surveyed the bodies of the three dead hardcases who had been gunned shot down by Blaze. "They will trail our dust when they find this. To get Paco, and for me to get at that Kate bitch, we must stop their pursuit."

  Spivey said, "Reckon that makes sense."

  Jaybird said, "Jesus, I want my ear back."

  Rosa backhanded him with enough force to knock Jaybird to the ground.

  She said, "We cover our escape, and then we track Paco and set him free."

  Spivey indicated the troopers in the far distance who remained with the stage.

  "What about them blue bellies yonder?"

  "They will not leave the payroll. They will send someone but by then we will be gone. Quickly now. Take your horses. That stand of trees. You know that to do."

  Spivey said, "Consider it done. Come on, Jaybird. And no more belly aching."

  They led their horses away, Jaybird blubbering softly but saying nothing.

  Rosa found what looked like a comfortable spot on the ground. She arranged herself in the attitude of one unconscious, while ensuring that her face rested on an outstretched arm, not against sto
ny ground. This close to the ground, she could clearly hear approaching hoofbeats. She lowered her eyelids so that her eyes would appear closed while allowing her to surreptitiously observe her surroundings.

  The soldiers rode into sight. They drew rein. They saw the dead men.

  A young man’s voice said, "Damn, Sarge. Bloodlust must be in the air."

  An older voice with grit replied, "Those three are dead as hell. Let’s check the woman. There’s no blood around her. She could be alive."

  Rosa faked a moaning sound. She propped herself up by one arm. She lifted her hand to her temple. She must appear to be recovering. She did not want them too close when the shooting started. What the hell were Spivey and Jaybird waiting for?

  The older, seasoned soldier started to dismount. "Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re here to help you."

  The gallant young soldier piped in with, "We’ve got a medic just down the hill. He can—"

  Rifle fire cut him off.

  Rosa hugged the ground to avoid being hit by a stray bullet. Two bodies toppled to the ground with thuds of grim finality. Their horses whinnied. Spivey and Jaybird reappeared.

  Rosa got back to her feet, brushing the dust from her.

  "Muy bueno, muchachos."

  Spivey returned his rifle to its scabbard. He started toward the bodies of the soldiers.

  "I’ll scalp ‘em. The other soldier boys’ll think it was Indians what done this."

  "No," said Rosa. "There is no time. Every second counts now. We must be gone."

  "Aw, okay," said Spivey.

  But then something caught his attention. He turned to stand over the young soldier. He placed a foot on the cavalryman’s chest. The downed man weakly gripped Spivey’s boot but to no avail. Spivey leaned over and swiped the knife blade across the soldier’s throat, stepping away fast to avoid the geyser of blood spurting from the severed jugular vein.

  "Bastard was playing possum."

  Jaybird said, "Looks dead enough now."

  He appeared to have forgotten about his lost ear. The blood was starting to coagulate where the ear had been.

  Rosa swung into her saddle.