Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron Page 11

  Within minutes the three of them had gathered their horses, bridled and saddled them, and readied them for travel. On their way along the flat, dusty trail, Danielle kept a close eye on the level of the sun lowering behind them. “Keep it slow and easy,” she said to the two men. “We’ve got to time it just right to the foot of the rocks. And remember: if we can, let’s take them alive.” They slowed the pace of their horses and rode loosely abreast until the trail tipped slightly up and narrowed into a jagged, rock-lined path barely three horses wide.

  “Get ready, Stick, here I go,” Danielle said, easing her mare’s reins to him as she rose and posted in her stirrups. As the mare stepped past a crevice snaking upward into clinging mesquite brush and creosote bushes, Danielle slipped her rifle from its boot and moved sleekly from her saddle into the rocky upthrust

  “Be careful,” Stick whispered, watching her disappear into the steep hillside as the horse continued without breaking its slow, steady stride. Hearing Stick whisper, Dave Waddell looked around to see what was going on. But in the blink of an eye, it seemed, Danielle’s saddle was empty and Stick was staring straight ahead. Looking up along the crevice ledge, Waddell saw a creosote bush tremble as if stirred by a gust of wind. Then Stick said to him in a gruff whisper, “Don’t look up! Look ahead!”

  “Sorry, I—” Waddell stammered. “I just didn’t realize when she would make her move.”

  “All the better,” Stick said, his waxen expression giving in a little to a faint smile of pride. “This is one young woman who knows her way around the rough country.” He heeled his horse on, keeping the chestnut mare close beside him.

  In the narrow crevice, Danielle climbed until she perched for a moment twenty feet up and looked down along the trail at Stick and Waddell riding forward. Knowing that any moment they could draw fire from the ridge above them, she caught her breath and hurriedly climbed upward, moving as quietly as possible. At the crest of the ridge, thirty feet above the trail, she hurried along across loose rock and buried boulders, looking down as she caught up with Stick and Waddell. Seeing their shadows and the shadows of the horses stretched in front of them on the rocky path, she squinted at the sunlight glaring on their backs.

  “That’s good, Stick,” Danielle whispered to herself. “Keep it just like that.” Then she slipped along the ridge in a crouch, rifle in hand, scanning back and forth along both high ridges atop the thin trail.

  She moved along the ridge, getting ahead of Stick and Waddell on the trail below as the ridgeline sloped upward. At the peak of a higher cliff, she looked just in time to see two riflemen stretched out on a flat rock and looking down their rifle barrels toward the trail. Their appearance came to her so suddenly it caused her to duck down for a second. She leaned against the side of a half-buried boulder and silently eased the lever of her rifle back and forth, chambering a round. Then she leaned slightly and looked down at Stick and Waddell. There was no question the riflemen had seen them. They were only waiting now for the two hapless riders to get beneath them before they opened fire.

  Even in an ambush situation, Danielle could not abide shooting the two men without first having them face her. Rising from behind the sunken boulder, she cocked the rifle and called out as she took aim. “Up here, you dry gulches!”

  Frisco and Billy Boy Harper knew what was coming as they rolled onto their backs, already taking aim at her. Danielle’s first shot nailed Billy Boy in the shoulder and slammed him back down onto the flat rock. He yelped like a kicked dog. His rifle went off as it flew from his hands and out over the edge of the cliff. But Frisco Bonham proved to be quicker than his companion. As Billy Boy rolled back and forth, writhing in pain, Frisco Bonham rolled sidelong over the edge of the cliff onto a dangerously thin ledge. He managed to fire a shot that ricocheted off the boulder in front of Danielle and whined away into the sky. “You’re not taking me back alive!” Frisco shouted.

  “That thought never crossed my mind,” Danielle called out, ready for her shot when Frisco raised up to take aim at her. On the trail below, Stick and Waddell had both dropped from their saddles as Frisco Bonham’s discarded rifle thudded to the trail in front of them. Stick was also ready for Frisco’s move. He raised his rifle and took aim.

  “It’s that damned woman again!” Frisco raged aloud, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He started to squeeze off a shot, but seeing him level his rifle, both Danielle and Stick fired at once, catching the outlaw in a cross fire from above and below. Dave Waddell squatted behind the cover of a rock, holding the reins to the horses. He winced, seeing the two shots hit Frisco Bonham and twirl the outlaw like a top.

  “Ayiiii—!” Frisco screamed. He spun off the slim ledge and pummeled and bounced and slid and rolled until he spilled onto the path beside the rock where Dave Waddell sat holding the horses. Not knowing if the outlaw was dead or alive and not wanting to take a chance, Stick stepped over and planted a boot firmly on Frisco’s back, pinning him to the dirt. Blood flowed from a wound in Frisco’s right shoulder and another in his left side.

  “Lay still now,” said Stick, “or I’ll put the next one in the worst place you can think of.”

  “You’ve ... got ... the wrong : . . man,” Frisco managed to gasp into the dirt.

  Stick grinned wryly. “You’ve said them words so often they’ve become second nature to you.” He jostled his boot against the wounded outlaw. “Now shut up and lay still till we get your partner.”

  Atop the ridgeline, Danielle worked her way down to Billy Boy Harper. He sat squeezing his bleeding shoulder, his wounded foot swollen to twice its size beneath a dirty bandage. “Damned if you ain’t gone and shot me again,” he seethed, staring at Danielle with hate-filled eyes. “If I could draw this pistol, I swear I’d blow you to kingdom come!”

  “You already would have if you and that snake you ride with could have gotten the drop on us,” said Danielle, stepping down onto the flat rock, lowering her rifle, and drawing her pistol from her holster.

  “What?” Billy Boy looked incensed by her suggestion. “Woman, you don’t know what you’re talking about! We had no idea you was even on this trail. We was just watching, making sure some road agents weren’t trailing us. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

  Danielle laid the rifle flat as he spoke, keeping him covered with her Colt. Then she reached over and lifted his pistol from his holster and shoved it down behind her gun belt. “Now listen close, because I’m only going to ask one time. Where is Cherokee Earl headed with Dave Waddell’s wife?”

  Billy looked genuinely bewildered. “Hunh? His wife?”

  “You heard me,” said Danielle. “Earl has Waddell’s wife. Where would he be headed with her?”

  “Dang ... !” Billy Boy turned loose of his wounded shoulder long enough to scratch his head with his bloody hand. “I knowed Cherokee had a powerful hankering for that little redheaded woman, but I never thought he’d go so far as to snatch her up.” He spread a bemused half-smile. “I was wondering what ole Dave was doing fanning our trail that way.”

  “Keep your voice down,” said Danielle. “I don’t want Waddell hearing you.” She craned her neck enough to look down over the edge to where Stick stood with his boot on Frisco’s back thirty feet below. Stick stared up toward her, his pistol cocked at arm’s length and pointed down at the wounded outlaw.

  “Now what’s the story?” she asked. “How do two birds like Waddell and Cherokee Earl come to light on the same limb?”

  “What kind of break do I get if I tell you?” Billy Boy cocked his head to one side, looking smug.

  Danielle swung her pistol barrel across his forehead, not hard, but hard enough to raise a welt. “You better worry about the break you’ll get if you don’t tell me,” she said, drawing the pistol back for another swipe.

  “All right! Take it easy!” Billy Boy pleaded. “I’ll tell you whatever I can.” He ducked his head slightly. “I never seen a woman so prone to acts of violence!”

  “And we’ve
only just started.” Danielle gave him a cold stare.

  “Dave Waddell started out buying stolen cattle from us a year ago,” Billy Boy said quickly. “Nowadays most of the cattle we rustle goes through him. He’s gotten chicken-rich off of us. Earl took a liking to his wife the first time he ever laid eyes on her. Can’t say as I blame him.” Billy shrugged with his good shoulder. “She’s a looker, that one.”

  “I see,” said Danielle. “So Cherokee Earl and Dave Waddell were business partners?”

  “Well, yes, you might as well say,” said Billy. “Only for some reason, Waddell never seemed to be able to admit it to himself. Used to really tighten Earl’s jaw ... Waddell thinking he was so much better than the likes of us. I’d say that had something to do with Earl wanting to take his wife, wouldn’t you?”

  “I have no idea,” said Danielle.

  “Well, I think it must’ve.” Billy noted that the bleeding from his shoulder wound had grown worse. He loosened his bandanna from around his neck and tried to tie it around his shoulder, failing miserably.

  “Here, give it to me,” said Danielle, stepping over and taking the bandanna. As she tied it around his shoulder, up under his arm, she continued. “But as far as you know, Waddell never stole any cattle himself, just provided a place and bought the ones the rest of you rustled?”

  “That was the way of it,” said Billy Boy. He looked closely at Danielle as she tended his wound. “Any chance of you letting me go, after me telling you and all? That, I mean, and promising never to do anything wrong again in my life?”

  “No, there’s not a way in the world I’ll let you go,” said Danielle, “so save your breath. We’ll turn you over to the law first chance we get. I’ll tell them you was helpful with information. That’s all I’ll do for you.”

  “I was afraid of that,” said Billy Boy, raising a small hideaway derringer he’d snuck from inside his shirt as she took care of his wound. “You’ve shot me for the last time, woman!” he shouted.

  From below, Stick and the other two only heard the sound of Danielle’s Colt, the big pistol drowning out the sound of Billy Boy’s derringer. “Danielle?” said Stick. “Are you all right up there?”

  A silence passed, and Stick took on a concerned look. “Danielle. Answer me.... Are you all right?”

  “I’m shot, stick,” Danielle replied in a strained voice. “I’m all right ... but this little sidewinder shot me.”

  “I’m coming!” Stick shouted.

  “No, Stick!” Danielle shouted. “Stay there!”

  “Why?” said Stick. “You’re shot—you need help!”

  She wasn’t going to risk saying any more about what Billy Boy had just told her. Instead, she just said, “Stick, stay down there. I’m all right.”

  But Stick wouldn’t hear of it. He reached down, snatched Frisco’s pistol from his holster, and said to Dave Waddell, “Keep an eye on this one! I’m going up to get her!”

  “Sure thing,” said Dave Waddell, pointing his pistol at Frisco Bonham. Recognizing Waddell’s voice, Frisco turned a surprised look at him as Stick hurried away up the steep, rocky hillside.

  “Well, well,” Frisco whispered. “Look who we’ve got here.”

  “Hello, Frisco,” said Waddell, keeping his voice low. “Where’s my wife, you rotten bastard?”

  “Your wife? How in the hell would I know where your wife is, Waddell?” Frisco said.

  The two stared at one another for a second. Then the picture of what was going on began to form inside Frisco’s head. “You mean to tell me Earl has taken off with your little redheaded wife?” He shook his head. “I always figured he would someday, but damn, you mean right after me and Billy split up with him and the others on the way to your spread? Is that when?”

  Waddell sat tight-lipped. His knuckles turned white around his pistol butt. “If you’ve got nothing for me, than I’ve got only one thing for you!” he hissed.

  “Hold on, Waddell,” said Frisco, seeing the serious intent in the man’s red-rimmed eyes. He flashed a quick glance at Stick climbing hand over hand, getting closer to the top. “I can’t tell you where he’d take her, but I might be able to take you there.” He looked up again, then back at Waddell.

  “You’re not taking me anywhere,” said Waddell.

  “Oh? Well, then, that’s a shame ... because you see, I know Cherokee Earl a lot better than you do.” He lifted an eyebrow as if asking whether Dave was interested in hearing more. When Dave made no response, Frisco continued. “I believe you can get your wife back if you show up and ask real polite. She might be a little worse for the wear, but we can’t always have everything our way, can we?”

  Dave Waddell fought the urge to put a bullet through his forehead. Frisco seemed to be able to read it in his eyes. “I know you’re all stoked up right now,” he said, “but give it time to sink in. See where your best chance lies. As soon as I get these wounds patched up and we can see our way clear, you be ready to help me make a move. Then we’ll go get your wife back. Fair enough?”

  Dave considered it for a moment. Frisco saw the color begin to come back into his face as his knuckles slacked off around the pistol butt. “I’ll think about it,” Dave finally said.

  Frisco took a short breath of relief. His eyes gestured upward to where Stick was still climbing the hillside. “You don’t want to spend too long thinking about it, Dave,” Frisco cautioned. “Seems to me like you made your decision last year which side of the law you stood on. Nobody twisted your arm, getting you to buy our stolen cattle. I don’t suppose you happened to mention all that to the old man and woman, did you?”

  Dave Waddell’s expression answered for him.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Frisco. “It must’ve slipped your mind.”

  “I told them no more than I had to.” He looked more troubled as he spoke.

  “It’s a hell of a spot you’re in, ain’t it?” A trace of a sinister smile came to Frisco’s lips. “The devil’s knocking at your door, Dave. You’ve got to figure out real quick whether or not you’re going to answer.” Again he nodded upward toward Stick’s back. “You quit those kind of folks the day you crossed over to us. You ever want to see your woman again, you better prepare yourself to do whatever it takes. I can promise you those two will never make it to where Cherokee Earl’s trail will take them.”

  “I told you I’d think about it,” said Dave Waddell. His hand slackened around the pistol.

  Chapter 10

  With a hand pressed against the bullet wound low in her left side, it took much effort for Danielle to make it over to the edge of the cliff. When she did, she looked down at Stick, who was no more than a few feet below her. “Stick, I told you not to come up here! I’m all right!”

  “Hunh?” Stick looked baffled, staring up at her as he reached to pull himself over the edge. Looking down to the trail below, Danielle saw the rifle barrel reach up above the top of a rock. She couldn’t see who was behind it, but whether it was Dave Waddell or Frisco Bonham made no difference. The intent was the same. As she saw the rifle barrel, she also saw Stick falter and almost lose his footing. As he rocked back, she was torn between going for her pistol to give him some covering fire or grabbing his hand to keep him from falling.

  “Hurry, Stick!” she shouted, hoping to get him up over the edge in time. She threw her right hand down to him, ignoring the pain in her side. But Stick had no understanding of what was going on below him. He only knew he had lost his balance. He grasped wildly for her hand.

  But the rifle shot caused him to stiffen just at the second their fingertips touched. Danielle saw the stunned look come upon his weathered face at the same time the bullet exited his chest. She made an extra lunge forward, but his hand had already fallen farther away from hers. She could only watch as his face registered a look of regret. “I’m ... sorry,” he gasped. Then he fell backward and tumbled down until he came to a halt in a swirling cloud of dust and rock on the trail below.

  Another s
hot exploded. This one kicked up flecks of rock only inches from Danielle. There was nothing she could do for Stick. She ducked down only slightly, long enough to draw her Colt. Then she came up quickly, her eyes scanning for a target. But all she saw was a brief glimpse of the two men and a rise of dust from the horses’ hooves. She heard the long neigh of her chestnut mare and saw the animal rear above the rocks and come down running while the sounds of the horse string and the two riders disappeared in the other direction.

  Danielle held her pistol at arm’s length with both hands, taking careful aim, preparing for the moment when Frisco Bonham and Dave Waddell would ride into view farther down the trail, where the rocky cover parted for a few yards. But when they did streak along that short stretch of open trail, she lowered her pistol, knowing the shot was too far out of range. Her eyes went down to Stick. Although badly wounded and injured from the fall, he was trying to raise his pistol from his holster. “Lay still, Stick!” Danielle shouted. “I’m coming!”

  Even with pain gripping her side, Danielle hurried down the steep hillside. Reaching Stick on the dirt trail, she sank onto her knees and turned him over, resting his head in her lap. “Stick, lay still! You’re going to be all right!”

  Stick coughed and struggled with his words. “Save that talk ... for some tinhorn. I’m done here.”

  Danielle knew he was right, it just took her a second to accept it. “Oh, Stick,” she said with deep regret. “I told you to stay put. Why wouldn’t you listen to me?” Her voice was shaken by grief. She hugged his head against her, seeing the scrapes, cuts, and bruises he’d acquired from the fall. On her leg she felt warm blood oozing from the wound in his back. The exit wound in his chest looked fierce and hopeless.

  “I—I tried, Danielle,” Stick gasped. His glazed eyes stared up into hers. “It’s hard ... for a man—”

  His words stopped short, but she knew what he meant. “To take orders from a woman,” she whispered, finishing his words for him.