Seventeen

 

By first light the next morning, the only evidence of the storm’s passing was the wetness of the ground and some brush that had been treated roughly by the strong winds. The wide open country had no trees to be blown over, but stands of buffalo grass had been whipped around and around by the whirling gusts during the night leaving them matted and tangled. Yet the resilient plants had already begun the drying and recovery process in the growing heat of the day. The sky was cloudless and clear with the clarity that only the cleansing of a prairie storm can give it.

Morgan Barlow crawled from beneath the crude lean-to made of Anna Lee’s slicker. The sun was warming quickly as it topped the rim of the box canyon. Marcel joined him, stretching after a good night’s rest.

“I sleep good when the rain fall,” Marcel said.

“Didn’t the thunder and lightning bother you none?” Morgan asked.

“No. When I sleep I don’t hear nothing when I no have the worry,” Marcel explained. “And last night I know the rustlers cannot sneak in here. So I relax and make the sommeil—sleep.”

“Well, I reckon that’s good,” Morgan said. “You oughta be woke up and raring to go then.” As usual he had dozed fretfully through the long, noisy night. “Check the herd while I take a look-see out on the prairie.”

Marcel walked back into the canyon to tend to the task while Morgan, with his rifle ready, slowly walked toward the entrance of the canyon. He exercised great caution as he moved along, using boulders and the remnants of brush for cover just in case the rustlers had gotten lucky and stumbled across their hiding place.

When he reached the opening, Morgan squatted down and spent some time glancing outward, his eyes darting quickly across the scene before him. That was the way he’d learned to make observations as a boy hunter. Staring at one spot too long could cause blurring and strain, but keeping the eyes moving made for full and accurate viewing of large expanses of land.

After ten minutes, Morgan chanced a climb up the canyon wall. He utilized the cover offered there as he worked his way up to the rim. Now he could see out farther. He marveled how the land looked as cleansed as the sky. Lucky the storm had been wet, with no dry lightning to cause prairie fires. While such infernos had their own purifying action as excess vegetation was burnt off, they also brought death and destruction to life, as rodents, snakes, elk, buffalo—and folks with herds of longhorns—either perished or were forced to flee for their lives.

The view from the elevated position also gave indication of an empty landscape. Thankful to the storm and the old farmer Tobias Dean, Morgan worked his way back down to the canyon floor. Moving rapidly, he went back to the small camp to find Anna Lee boiling coffee and cooking up some beans from their larder.

Marcel appeared a few moments later. “Them cattles is snug for bugs in the rug,” he reported. “They eat the grass and be nice and happy.”

“Things are looking good out on the prairie too,” Morgan said.

“Are we gonna leave this morning?” Anna Lee asked stirring the beans.

“I’m thinking on it,” Morgan said. “We could hole up here some, but it might be a waste of time.”

Marcel poured everyone cups of coffee. “I think maybe you got the itch for to move on, Morgan.”

Morgan took his coffee and enjoyed a long sip of the hot liquid. “Yeah. There’s no telling where the rustlers are now. They could be wandering around in circles out there trying to pick up our trail.”

“Which don’t exist no more,” Anna Lee pointed out.

“If they be far away and finally come here and we be gone they be out from luck,” Marcel reasoned.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Morgan said. Then he added with a slight grin, “But not exactly in them words.”

“It makes sense no matter how you say it,” Anna Lee remarked as she spooned out the beans. “This storm has given us a chance to put some real distance between them outlaws and us. By the time they catch up, we could be up by the Pecos.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said. “And that’s where there’s law and a coupla rancher associations that take a real dim view of rustlers.”

“They help us, eh?” Marcel asked.

“Sure,” Morgan said. He began spooning down his beans. It didn’t take him long to finish the plateful. “I made up my mind. We move these cattle out right away.”

Anna Lee and Marcel didn’t have to be urged to eat fast. Within a couple of minutes, they’d finished their breakfasts. All that was left to do was to use a little dirt to clean out the pot and plates, then be on their way.

With themselves fed, the horses saddled and readied, the trio moved into the canyon and began the task of getting the herd moving. At first the longhorns objected in their dull-eyed way, but eventually succumbed to the whistles, curses, and horse work of the humans. Morgan rode up to position on the point to lead the way out into the open countryside. He galloped a bit to a point about fifteen yards ahead of the herd.

The group moved on slowly, making a wide turn toward the north. Anna Lee and Marcel had been forced to fall back a bit because of the confinement of the canyon exit, but they still managed to keep the longhorns in motion.

Suddenly gunshots exploded from nearby. Morgan, dragging his rifle from the saddle boot, whipped around in time to sense a few slugs slicing the air around his head. Then he saw the bushwhackers cleverly hidden along a barely visible rise a short distance away. He damned himself for not spotting them earlier.

“Back into the canyon!” he bellowed. After giving himself a couple of personal covering shots, Morgan rode hard toward the cattle, turning the head of the herd inward.

Anna Lee and Marcel heard the shots and reacted quickly. Making way for the returning longhorns, they urged them back to the rear of the canyon. The herd, glad to be returning to a place they liked, gave no resistance as they picked up speed to get back to the lush grazing and sweet water of the creek.

Morgan rode deeper into cover and dismounted, slapping his horse on the rump to keep the animal running into the interior of the natural fort. He found cover behind a boulder and immediately spotted a target. The man, on foot, dodged behind a bush. Then he leaped up to make a dash to close the distance between himself and Morgan. Morgan fired rapidly, driving the outlaw back to his original position.

Now Anna Lee and Marcel joined him. Anna Lee was stricken with angry disappointment. “Lord above! What’s happened?”

“The sons of bitches was waiting for us,” Morgan said grimly.

“How’d they know where we was?” Anna Lee asked. She spotted a rustler and squeezed off a shot from her Henry repeater. “Missed! Shit!”

Marcel looked at her. “Hey! Ladies no say shit, eh?”

“Right now, I ain’t a lady,” Anna Lee said. She fired again. “I’m riled and ornery like a bitch wolf.” One more shot. “Damn it! I can’t hit nothing out there. They keep ducking down.” Another shot and again she asked, “How’d they know where we was?”

“I’ve got a damn good idea,” Morgan said. Before he could elaborate, he had to fire quickly a couple of times.

Now seven men made a simultaneous charge toward the canyon entrance. All three defenders were forced to pump lead their way in a roaring volley of shots that echoed like the previous night’s thunder.

The attackers dove for cover under the hail of slugs.

“How many did you count?” Morgan asked loudly.

“Sept!” Marcel hollered in French. Then in his excitement he yelled, “Siete!” in Spanish.

“Seven, I think,” Anna Lee said.

“That’s what I counted,” Morgan said.

Once more the seven rustlers made a move. They started with rapid shooting, then four of the group leaped up and moved forward. Morgan and his friends fired rapidly, then swung their long arms as the four went to cover and the other three mounted a quick advance.

Then silence.

“They be closing in little for little,” Marcel said breathlessly.

“And we ain’t hit none of ’em,” Morgan pointed out. He took a deep breath, damning his previous high-strung reaction to the attack. “Let’s settle down and take time to aim. We got to knock ’em over or they’ll be here down our throats directly.”

More silence for five minutes. The temporary peacefulness was broken by one more seven-man charge. Morgan, Anna Lee, and Marcel now aimed with more care at the bobbing, weaving figures that zigzagged toward them through the prairie grass. They fired spaced deliberate shots.

One of the outlaws staggered and turned to the rear. Limping and lurching, he faced the front again and came forward once more. Three bullets hit him almost simultaneously. It appeared as if he had leaped straight up and back as he crashed to the ground. That broke the outlaws’ momentum and they once again went to cover.

“Hey! I know the man we shoot,” Marcel shouted. “That be Dan Fenton!”

“One of Zach Medford’s boys?” Morgan asked. “Yeah,” Marcel said. “He one feller that say he gone settle my hash.”

“Well, his seems to be settled permanent now,” Morgan said.

The rustlers kept to cover for a long time. Finally a voice sounded from their position. “Hey, you! Hey, Morgan Barlow!”

Morgan yelled back, “What makes you think my name is Morgan Barlow.”

“I know, don’t you worry about it,” the voice assured him.

“I know you’re Zach Medford,” Morgan hollered. “And I know you’re a cattle-rustling son of a bitch!”

“That’s a hell of a way to talk to a feller that’s willing to make a deal,” Zach yelled. “A deal that’ll save your damn hides.”

“I wouldn’t trust you or your damn word for shit,” Morgan shouted. “So save your breath!”

“You ain’t got no choice!” Zach yelled. “At least hear me out!”

“Stand up so’s I can see you,” Morgan hollered.

“I ain’t stupid!” Zach loudly retorted. “You want to listen to my deal or not?”

Morgan sensing a chance to gain some time, yelled, “I’ll listen!”

“You three folks just ride outta there!” Zach offered. “We’ll let you go and take the cattle back. What do you say?”

“Give us some time to talk it over!” Morgan shouted.

Anna Lee was horrified. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

“Hell, no!” Morgan said. “Let’s pull back a bit. I got an idea.”

“I hope it be a good one, Morgan,” Marcel said as he followed the other two a few paces to the rear.

They all squatted down and Morgan wasted no time. “We’re in a no-win situation, I reckon you know that.”

Anna Lee nodded. “I figgered that out when the first shot was fired out there.”

“All Medford has to do is wait us out,” Morgan continued. “We got water and I suppose we could butcher some cattle for grub, but he’d still get us eventually. After a few days, we’d just be exhausted. And remember, he ain’t come at us from the rim o’ the canyon yet.”

“I reckon he’s afraid to hit the cattle,” Anna Lee said.

“That’s right,” Morgan agreed. “But when his patience runs out he’s gonna damn them longhorns and come in here after us.”

“I don’t give it up,” Marcel said. “I go down when they got me all shot up.”

“Tell us your idea, Morgan,” Anna Lee urged him.

“It’s the only chance we got, but we might pull it off,” Morgan said. He sighed. “But we’ll lose the cattle.”

“Hey!” Marcel said. “Then we get them back at other time, eh?”

“Damn right,” Morgan said liking the Cajun’s fighting spirit.

“Just tell us what to do,” Anna Lee urged Morgan.

“We’ll get the herd moving fast outta here, then turn ’em loose on the prairie,” Morgan said. “I’m willing to bet my bottom dollar that them rustlers will ride after the herd and forget us for a bit. You two can head hell-for-leather to the north.”

“What do you mean us two?” Anna Lee demanded to know.

“If I’m with that herd, it’s a guarantee the bastards will follow along,” Morgan said. “When the time’s right, I’ll make a break for it.”

“Morgan,” Marcel said candidly. “You don’t got no chance for nothing. They kill you in five minutes.”

Morgan gritted his teeth. “But that’s five minutes for you two to lay down some distance.”