Gunmen of the Desert Sands

In the shelter of a cliff overhang, the four men had coffee and rested their horses while Dawson and Caldwell told Shaw about their mission to break up the border raiders by any means necessary. When they were finished telling him about the posse, Grady Carr and Randall Wynn, Shaw shook his head and gazed for a moment into the low flames of the fire.

’’I suppose Messenger still doesn’t realize that you need more men if you really plan on cleaning up the border," he said quietly.

Tunis cut in, saying in Messenger’s defense, ’’I believe he does realize it. That’s why he sent Agent Carr and myself along on this matter."

’’No offense, Agent Tunis," said Shaw, ’’but it’s a waste of time and lives, sending two men who don’t know this terrain, and who haven’t dealt with these kinds of men before."

’’No offense taken," said Tunis, a bit grudgingly. He didn’t attempt to argue the point. Instead he sipped his coffee and fell silent.

’’I’m afraid Messenger got himself overly impressed by what the three of us did at Hell’s Gate," said Dawson. ’’Now he thinks we can do the impossible."

’’Jedson’s right," said Dawson. ’’You softened them up for us before we even got there. We had some lucky breaks at Hell’s Gate. We’ve had nothing but a hard ride and a lot of casualties this trip."

’’If you don’t mind me asking," Caldwell said warily to Shaw, ’’what happened to you after Hell’s Gate? You just rode off, didn’t say when you was coming back, didn’t even say if you was coming back."

Shaw studied the short blue flames dancing beneath the battered coffeepot for a moment. ’’I didn’t know when, and I wasn’t sure if," he finally replied. ’’I had my own reasons for being on the Barrowses’ trail. I was out for blood. I got it. It was time to go." He sipped his coffee.

’’You never turned your badge in," Dawson said. ’’Far as that goes you never told anybody you quit. You’re still a deputy, if you want to be."

Shaw gave a thin, tired smile and said, ’’After all this time? Messenger would still take me back?" He shook his head. ’’He must be hard up for good help." He cast a glance at Tunis and added, ’’Again, no offense intended."

’’Again, none taken," said Tunis, studying Shaw’s face in the flicker of low firelight. Like everyone else, Tunis, the government agent, found himself curious about Fast Larry Shaw, the man known as the fastest gun alive. ’’So, are you ever going to pin that badge on?" he asked.

’’I see," said Shaw, ’’so the folks in Washington will know whose side to take when it’s time to call this venture either a success or a failure."

’’Well spoken," Tunis said, having to give a short grin at Shaw’s political insight. He looked at Dawson and Caldwell. ’’The fact it, I’m not concerned with giving Messenger a report. I haven’t been since the day Grady got his throat cut. I simply want to bring this hunt to an end and go home. If there’s a report called for at that time, I’ll come up with something. I doubt if it will be completely accurate, but it won’t be anything like it was living out here." He paused, then added, ’’Messenger probably knows that already."

’’No matter what you think of me, of my savvy or my lack of savvy, I came out here to fight. When the time comes I plan on fighting gamely. Live or die, I will do my best."

’’Hear, hear," Caldwell said sincerely. He reached out, picked up the battered coffeepot and topped off Tunis’ cup.

Shaw studied their faces, seeing men act the way men act toward one another when they know they’re about to face death together. ’’That brings me to why I’m here," he said. ’’I came to tell you that Zarco is crawling with border raiders, and there’s more showing up every day."

’’But Madsen is there, and by now so is Deacon Lucas, and the ones we chased from Arajo," said Dawson, ’’the ones who killed all the posse men."

’’But, yes, the rest are there," said Shaw. ’’There’s over twenty gunmen gathered there." He looked from face to face to see whether the numbers made any impression on these two lawmen and the government agent. They didn’t seem to. He paused, then asked quietly, ’’Did everybody hear me?"

’’We heard you, Shaw," said Dawson, ’’but the number of guns doesn’t change anything. We’re doing our jobs. I think you can understand that."

’’I can," said Shaw. ’’I can also understand if you decided to wait a few days until they ride out of Zarco, then take the gang apart a little at a time up along these hill trails."

’’I heard Leeman telling Morgan Hatch they’re going to hit the gold station in Durango," Shaw said. He checked their faces for a response.

’’Too ambitious," said Dawson, considering it. ’’Any chance Leeman was just feeding that to you, knowing you might bring the information to us?"

’’No," said Shaw. ’’I was talking to Sonny Engles at the time. Leeman didn’t think I heard him. He has no fear of the law. Why should he? The border raiders have been playing both sides of the border so long, they don’t think either side will hold them to account."

’’Yes, he does," said Shaw. ’’Drop the Dog Jones and Lying Earl Sunday have been riding with him ever since they got away from you two at Hell’s Gate. They told him everything they could think of about me. He knows I was a deputy, but he still wanted me to ride with him."

’’We can’t put this off any longer," Dawson said, after considering things. ’’We’ve got to strike while they’re gathered in one spot. Maybe they’ll head to Durango, maybe they won’t. But if they break away three and four at a time the way they’re known to do, we’ll be chasing them all over this desert again."

’’You won’t kill all of them if you hit them in Zarco," said Shaw. ’’You three against over twenty men?" He shook his head slowly. ’’You’ll still end up chasing them on to the next village, the next water hole—that’s provided they don’t kill all three of you first thing."

Shaw sipped his remaining coffee. Seeing nothing was going to stop these three, he gave up and said, ’’Yeah, I suppose so."

As Shaw was about to stand up to leave, Caldwell asked quickly, ’’Why don’t you ride with us, Shaw? You know that’s what we want to ask you to do." He looked at Dawson. ’’We’re just too stubborn to come out and say so."

’’I worked for the law because I had accounts to settle with Titus Boland for killing Anna Bengreen," said Shaw. ’’All I want now is to be left alone." He set his empty cup aside, stood up and dusted the seat of his trousers. ’’I’ve warned you what’s waiting in Zarco. Now I’ll take my leave."

’’Obliged," said Dawson, not about to pursue the matter of Shaw riding with them. ’’Where are you headed now?"

Caldwell still hadn’t given up. ’’Think about it, Shaw. It would be like Hell’s Gate all over if you were there, waiting inside for us when we make our move."

Instead of answering, Shaw touched the brim of his battered sombrero, looked from one to the other and said, ’’Take care of yourselves, amigos."

When Shaw had taken the buckskin’s reins and walked out of sight, Caldwell sighed and said, ’’Well, there went our best chance of putting an end to all the border raiders in Zarco for once and for all."

Caldwell and Tunis looked at each other. Clearing his throat, Tunis said, ’’Did you or did you not say yourself that having Fast Larry Shaw with us would tip the scales greatly in our favor?"

Caldwell shook his head and stared down at the ground in front of him. ’’Three of us against the border raiders isn’t good odds, far as I’m concerned."

Caldwell started to speak, but his and Tunis’ attention went to the sound of Shaw walking his buckskin back under the cliff overhang. ’’All right, here’s the deal," Shaw said as if he’d never left. ’’There’s dirt between Leeman and his two close pals and Morgan Hatch and his partner Engles. Seems Leeman ran out on them in Julimez. Hatch and Sonny said it didn’t matter, but I didn’t believe it."

’’There’s dirt between them, and rightly so," Dawson replied, looking up from the fire at Shaw with the same look of surprise that had come upon Caldwell’s and Tunis’ faces. ’’We saw where Leeman shot holes in some water bags instead of leaving them behind for Hatch and Engles and Wild Dick. He figured on feeding those three to us while he and Bone and Waite made their getaway."

Shaw gave a slight grin and said, ’’Hatch didn’t even mention it. He said they took canteens off the dead posse and rode straight to Arajo." Shaw considered it, then said, ’’But just because Hatch didn’t mention it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about it. No man jackpots his pards that way and they let it go without a fight."

’’So give me two days in Zarco," said Shaw. ’’Let me see if I can stir things up before you come charging in."

In Zarco, Filos Hewes stood watch from the roof of the cantina. But he saw nothing when Shaw circled wide of the trail and rode in through a dark alleyway two hours before dawn. At the stables behind the cantina, Shaw stepped down and walked the buckskin quietly past Sonny and the woman, who lay passed out and naked on blankets in the sand. In the pale moonlight he looked down and noted Sonny’s bruised and swollen jaw.

Beside the passed-out gunman lay three empty mescal bottles. A snuff container of refined opium powder lay opened and half-empty on the edge of the blanket. The woman slept with a hand resting on the handle of the Colt lying near her face. Shaw heard Sonny mumble gruffly in his sleep. But then the mumbling turned into a whine as pain shot through the gunman’s cracked jawbone.

Silently, Shaw led the buckskin into the stables, wiped him down in the dark with a handful of clean straw, grained him and watered him from a clay pot of tepid water sitting inside the sables. Finishing with his horse, Shaw wet his face and head and dried himself on his loosened shirttails. He took off his gun belt and draped it over his shoulder. Then he left the stables on foot and walked to the cantina where a dim light glowed through the open door.

Inside the cantina, Morgan Hatch stood drinking alone at the bar. Looking around, Shaw saw men lying passed out on the dirt floor and draped over battered wooden tables where they had fallen. Shaw stood at the far end of the bar and motioned for a bleary-eyed bartender to serve him coffee from a large blackened coffeepot. The coffee had been boiled on a chemnea out back and now sat steaming behind the bar.

While the man poured the coffee into a cup, Shaw looked down the bar at Hatch, who looked away from him and puffed on a slim green cigar. In front of Hatch sat a steaming cup of coffee, next to a half-full bottle of tequila. On the floor lay a pile of green cigar butts. ’’There’ll be no trouble between you and me, Morgan Hatch, unless it’s of your making," Shaw said quietly.

Shaw continued. ’’Sonny Engles got in my face. I saw what he was leading up to, so I stopped it before it got out of hand. Would you have done any different?"

’’Sonny’s fast, Shaw, faster than anything you’ve ever seen." Hatch took a sip of tequila and chased it with a sip of coffee. ’’Fastest gun alive? Ha! He’ll take that name right away from you." There was bitterness to Hatch’s voice that Shaw knew he hadn’t caused. Whatever dark mood Hatch was in had been there long before Shaw arrived.

’’If he’s that fast, he’s welcome to it," Shaw replied calmly. He sipped his coffee with a sigh. ’’Did you tell him what I said," he asked, ’’that I could have killed him if I’d wanted to?"

’’Too bad?" Hatch turned, looked him up and down, then looked away. ’’Why? Are you starting to have second thoughts about it?"

’’No," Shaw said. He shrugged. ’’I’ll kill him when the time comes, if that’s what it’s going to take." He sipped the coffee and asked, ’’Are you going to stand with him?"

’’No, it’s between the two of yas," said Hatch. ’’He’s my pard, but this is his fight. Every man has to shovel his own dirt."

’’Kill me too ..." Hatch chuckled under his breath. ’’You’re awfully cocksure of yourself, Shaw," he said. ’’I’ll give you that."

’’I better be," Shaw said. He turned, facing Hatch along the bar, and said, ’’But enough about Sonny. What changed your mind out there? Leeman and I were both certain you’d ride in looking for blood."

’’Yeah?" Hatch said guardedly, taking a quick glance around at the sleeping drunks. ’’What’re you talking about?"

’’Come on, Hatch," Shaw said, ’’we all knew you and Sonny intended to ride in and kill Deacon Leeman, Waite and Bone. That’s why Leeman had me in the street with him, to back his play." He checked Hatch’s expression, seeing the rage rise in his eyes. ’’I don’t blame you, after him shooting holes in the water bags, leaving you stuck that way."

’’He must’ve thought it was a joke, leaving me and Sonny stranded . . . poor Wild Dick lying dead." He swallowed a tight bitter knot in his throat. ’’He told everybody, didn’t he?" Hatch said in dark speculation.

Hatch thought about things, then said, ’’Shaw, are you going to run straight to Deacon Leeman, tell him what you and I talked about here?"

Shaw gave him a flat stare and said, ’’I don’t run to anybody about anything. You stay out of any trouble I have with Sonny Engles, I’ll stay out of any trouble you have with Deacon Leeman."

’’Deal," Hatch said bitterly. He pushed his coffee cup aside and took a long drink from the bottle of tequila.