Chapter Four

‘Those idiots down there want to fight!’ declared Tate as he reached his companions.

‘The white man’s greed overcomes his wisdom,’ replied Aldo.

The outlaw shook his head. ‘That’s not it. They’ve got some damn fool notion about doing the right thing with that money, which means not giving it to us. I can’t understand it! The loot was insured anyway, so why bother?’

‘Well, I can’t say I’m sorry, not one little bit,’ giggled Gaunt as he examined the long blade of his knife.

Aldo held out his hand for Tate’s spyglass so he could study the town and its surroundings once more. Then he dismounted, crouched down and began to draw in the dirt with his spear. ‘We will attack in a circle and surround them as the sky surrounds the earth,’ he explained, scratching marks at various points on the ground. The chief then spoke to his men, giving instructions about where they should probe and try to break through the enemy’s defences. The Apaches spread out as they began their advance, some armed with rifles while others carried bows, spears and clubs.

‘I know you people prefer close combat with knives,’ remarked Tate. ‘You’ll have to hit them hard with your firepower first.’

‘You have nothing to teach us about how to fight,’ replied Aldo contemptuously.

‘I just don’t want you to think these guys are going to be a pushover. They won’t give up easily.’

‘No, there are some white men with honour. Perhaps this Callaghan is one.’

Their pace quickened to a gallop as the Apaches let out their war cries. When they came within range and were met with volleys of rifle shots, some warriors shifted sideways in their saddles to dodge the bullets. They returned fire, aiming to both hit their adversaries and dislodge parts of the barrier, splintering wood and splitting sandbags. Bowmen fired arrows over the top at points where the shots had come from. Groups of riders then split off as they strung out in a wide circle, almost encompassing the town. The Apaches were coming under heavy fire now and Tate saw several of them tumble from their horses. He breathed in the thickening smoke and stench of cordite as he fired his revolver at a bearded face below a battered Stetson that appeared above the barrier. The outlaw gave a grunt of satisfaction as the man fell back, his rifle falling from his hands.

At that moment, Aldo shouted an order as he rode among his men and the Apaches fell back. Tate was left exposed to a hail of bullets and jerked the reins of his horse abruptly as he hurried to join them. He cursed his allies for retreating so soon and remonstrated with Aldo as they reached the safety of the escarpment.

‘What the hell are you doing? We were getting somewhere just then, I even got one of ’em myself!’

‘Too many warriors were being lost. We are brave, but we do not throw our lives away.’

‘We’re fighting a battle here, damn it! People are going to get killed, and if you want a quick win you have to take chances.’

‘Greed makes you careless, white man. The true warrior knows how to be patient, to hunt his enemy before he strikes.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something? Time’s not on our side, Aldo. There are troops heading this way and we can’t be sure how soon they’ll get here. It could be a couple of days but they might be quicker than that.’

‘Enough! I command many warriors and each one is worth ten of you. I will not waste their lives because you fear the soldiers!’

‘I never said I was afraid. I’m risking my neck out there the same as your men,’ grumbled Tate defensively.

‘We have learned where they are weak. That is where we will strike at the next attack. Then you will see how we overcome our enemies.’

‘When will that be?’

Aldo glowered at him. ‘When I say it will be. No more questions or I will cut out your tongue!’ The chief then turned away and Tate knew better than to utter another word.

In Maxwell, a cheer had gone up at the sight of the Apaches retreating. Mick Harper started to climb up over the barrier to chase after them with his rifle but Callaghan pulled him back down.

‘For God’s sake, be careful. You can’t fight them all!’

‘Yeah but I got two of ’em, didn’t I, Sheriff?’

‘Sure you did, Mick. Your uncle would have been proud of you, but he’d also want you to live to fight another day and to keep his store going.’

The boy shrugged. ‘I guess so. I was real scared at first, but then I got excited.’

Callaghan smiled at him. He wasn’t such a bad kid after all. ‘Yeah, well do me a favour and try to stay just a little scared. That way we might keep you alive. Now, we need more bullets. Go get some, will you?’

‘What are our losses?’ asked Carver as Mick Harper hurried away.

‘Only two men dead but several others have arrow wounds. They can carry on fighting though.’

‘It sounds like we’ve got the upper hand,’ said the station agent, stroking the barrel of his Winchester.

Callaghan shook his head. ‘Don’t be fooled. Aldo’s just probing for weak points in our defences. Apaches are brave but they value their lives and won’t risk theirs any more than they have to.’

‘Yeah, my old drill sergeant used to say that you don’t win battles by dying for your country. You make the enemy die for his!’

‘Well, they’re just fighting for gain, and if we make it hard enough for them they might just give up and go away.’ He clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s go check the barrier and make sure any gaps get filled in.’

There were several areas where sandbags had been pierced with arrows and items of furniture splintered. Callaghan kicked the remains of some chairs and asked ‘How are we supposed to keep them out with this?’

The Reverend Samuel Endicott rose from the dust where he had been kneeling to comfort the widow of one of the men who been killed. ‘We could take the pews from the church. They’re much sturdier that most of the things we’ve been using, apart from the waggons of course.’

‘That’s a great idea, Reverend. We’d best hurry and round up some men. It won’t be too long before Aldo tries again.’

The church was almost emptied of furniture within minutes and the pews were quickly stacked up against the weakest areas of the town’s defences. When Callaghan and Carver took up their places again, Mick Harper was stumbling towards them carrying two boxes of ammunition. He dropped one as he came to a halt and the lid opened as it landed, revealing the contents.

The boy stared in embarrassment at the firecrackers with their long fuses, wrapped in brightly coloured paper.

‘What are we supposed to do with these, Mick? Frighten the Apaches away with our big bangs?’ asked an amused Carver.

‘They’d certainly frighten their horses,’ mused Callaghan. ‘Besides, these things are dangerous and can easily blind or injure a man. Don’t worry Mick. You did good bringing us our little surprise!’

‘You could be right Luke,’ said Carver as he picked up one of the firecrackers and stared at it. ‘If we don’t do something, I wouldn’t count on us being around to use them on the fourth of July anyhow.’

Aldo was now preparing his men for their next attack. He drew on the ground once more as he gave them their instructions. Tate watched intently and asked Billy what the chief was saying.

‘He reckons there are some places where we might be able to get inside. It’d make things a whole lot easier.’ The younger man made a stabbing gesture with his knife. ‘I’d sure like to cut that sheriff’s innards out with this thing and burn ’em in front of ’im. I’d save the heart ’til last, o’ course. That’d be the best part.’

‘I don’t usually have much taste for your handiwork, Billy, but I’d be happy to make an exception for Callaghan.’

Their conversation was interrupted by the order to advance and the sound of an Apache war cry. Tate moved forward with the others, feeling more determined than ever. Callaghan had outsmarted him too many times, and now he was looking forward to his revenge.

The lookout posted in the church tower rang the bell and the townspeople took up their positions once more. The Apaches approached rapidly in a cloud of dust before spreading out. Stripped of their coloured wrappings, the firecrackers lay hidden beneath scattered shrubs and thin coverings of dirt but linked together by a winding fuse looped through a tiny gap in the barrier.

The enemy came within range and the order was given to start firing, but they seemed harder to hit this time. Aldo focused his attack on areas where he knew the inhabitants’ firepower was weak and some approached dangerously close to the barrier. Painted warriors leaped from their horses to scramble over the top. One hurled a spear as he did so and it struck a man standing near Callaghan in the chest. He fell back with a choked cry as the sheriff swung around and fired his pistol. The Apache was hit in the face and crumpled over the barrier before his corpse was shoved roughly aside by Carver. Callaghan ordered the men in backup positions to move forward, reinforcing the defences. He lit the fuse as he did so and watched the small flame sizzle its way through the dirt. The pews from the church did their job, making it difficult for the Apaches to break through. Those who did were quickly shot down by the townspeople.

Then the firecrackers went off with a series of bangs and flashes. Horses bucked and reared in terror as their owners fought to control them before being picked off by rifle shots. Callaghan watched with grim satisfaction as one Apache was thrown to the ground, then struck by an exploding firecracker as he stumbled to his feet. He let out a shriek of agony as he fell once more with a scorching wound that burnt the skin off his chest.

Amid the clouds of smoke and confusion, four horsemen managed to clear the barrier, however. Callaghan recognised Aldo and Billy Gaunt among them. The younger man came charging towards him, firing a pistol but with a long-bladed knife clenched in his teeth. As the sheriff raised his gun to fire, a shot rang out from behind and the boy slumped forward as a bullet struck him between the shoulders. The knife fell from his mouth as he let out a cry and swayed in the saddle. In that moment, Callaghan saw the young boy he might have been, had fate not intervened, rather than the ruthless killer he had become. It gave Gaunt enough time to turn and flee, his horse clearing the barrier before the sheriff had a chance to finish him off.

It was then that he saw who had fired the bullet. Christina stood in the mêlée, frozen with shock. This was the first time she had ever shot, and possibly killed, anyone at close quarters. She slowly lowered the pistol clenched in both her hands as Aldo loomed up from behind and swept her on to his saddle. Callaghan let out a cry of rage as he began firing at the chief, but he hit another Apache warrior who passed in front of him at that moment. The fourth mounted warrior to clear the barrier was behind the sheriff and struck out with his club. Callaghan felt a searing pain in his skull before numbness enveloped his body and the sounds of battle faded to a distant murmur as he crumpled to the ground.

Tate had watched with mounting frustration as the townspeople fought back hard and the exploding firecrackers caused the attack to stall. Then Billy came towards him out of the smoke, his face deathly pale as he leaned over his horse’s neck. The Apaches began to withdraw and the outlaw saw that the situation was hopeless.

‘Come on, let’s get you out of here,’ he said roughly as he seized the bridle of his companion’s horse and led him away.

‘You wouldn’t be goin’ soft on me now, would yuh Tate? It’s every man for himself. Ain’t that what you taught me?’

‘If you’d listened to me that well, you wouldn’t have got shot,’ replied the older man as the sounds of gunfire retreated behind them.

At last the two men reached safety and Tate gently lifted his companion down from his horse. The boy lay on the ground, deathly pale as the outlaw covered him with a blanket.

‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’

Tate nodded. He was not a man who knew how to soften things, but he raised a canteen to his companion’s lips and bade him drink.

‘Thanks Tate. I’m glad I didn’t have to kill you. Could you do me one last favour?’

‘Sure, I reckon you’ve earned it.’

‘Don’t let them bury me like a white man . . . I want all my stuff in the grave and stones over it . . . Promise!’

‘I promise, Billy.’

A brief smile of relief crossed Gaunt’s lips before being replaced by a grimace of pain. His body stiffened and he let out his last breath in a long sigh. Tate swallowed hard and felt an unfamiliar stinging sensation behind his eyes. He put a hand up to his cheek and was surprised to find tears. The outlaw rarely felt much sentiment about anyone else, but he had been fond of Billy. The boy had looked up to him as a kind of mentor while at the same time being just as selfish and amoral as himself but with no pretence at being otherwise. The fact that he had been prepared to kill his boss to save his own skin, although with some regret, was a kind of compliment in a way. He was simply following the rules the older man had taught him.

Tate pulled the blanket over the dead boy’s face, wondering if he would ever meet such a kindred spirit again. At that moment, a shadow passed over him and he looked up.

‘He fought bravely as you promised’, acknowledged Aldo.

‘Yeah. It would have meant a lot to him to hear you say that. The kid asked for his body to be buried like an Apache’s.’

‘White men have a cross over them and prayers from your holy book.’

‘Billy was raised by Apaches and today he fought like one and died like one. Isn’t that enough?’

Aldo was silent for a moment and Tate met his gaze. After what seemed an eternity, the Mescalero leader nodded his consent and began to walk away. Turning his attention to other matters, Tate followed him.

‘Taking the girl was a smart move. I think Callaghan’s sweet on her and he’ll negotiate to get her back.’

Aldo’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘She is to be my woman and no one else’s!’

‘I wasn’t suggesting you actually give her back’, Tate replied hastily. ‘She can still be useful in getting what we want though, can’t she?’

The Apache nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, you will talk to Callaghan tomorrow. After tonight, the white man’s pride will be broken and he will listen.’

‘Why, what’s gonna happen?’ asked the puzzled outlaw.

Aldo smiled enigmatically. ‘You will see.’

Back in Maxwell, Seth Fuller drew back from the barred window of the cell he shared with Judd Silver.

‘What’s happening out there?’ asked his companion.

‘It looks like they’ve driven off them Indians again.’

‘We’d know about it by now if they hadn’t.’

‘Yeah, it beats me how you can be so cool about it. The thought of them savages hollerin’ down the street makes my blood run cold.’

Fuller peered out of the window again and noticed that there was no one guarding the post office. The men had moved up to reinforce those at the wall. Glancing down, he spotted something that excited him even more.

‘Hey, Judd. Come over here ’cos you gotta see this!’

Silver got up from his bunk, wondering what could have triggered such a change in his friend’s mood. Fuller then jabbed a grimy finger downwards through a gap in the bars and the gunman spotted the bundle of firecrackers lying in the street below their window.

‘I know you got some matches, Judd. We could blow the doors off this cell with what’s down there!’

‘Sure we could, but how are we gonna get it?’

Fuller fished in his pocket and held up a long piece of string. ‘I always carry it around with me. It comes in handy sometimes.’

Silver felt a sudden surge of hope as he watched his friend tie a loose knot at one end and carefully lower the string through the barred window. Fuller guided it with painstaking slowness until at last he looped the knot over one of the fuses and pulled it tight. Silver held his breath as the precious cargo began its ascent and he offered a silent promise to the God he thought just might exist.

‘Let me get out of here and I’ll never steal anything or kill an innocent man or woman ever again.’

There was a moment when both men thought the bundle was not going to fit between the bars, but it did so with some tugging and squeezing. Fuller then drenched the bunk beds with the water they used for washing and turned them over on to their sides. Silver fumbled for his matches and lit one of the fuses, wedging the bundle under the barred door of the cell. The prisoners then jumped behind their beds and curled up against the wall. The blast sounded deafening when it came, but they were confident it would not be heard through the walls at the other end of town. Their greatest fear was that the cell might catch fire, trapping them inside, but the sparks which flew around them could not ignite the soaked bedding and they emerged safely to see that the once sturdy lock on the cell door had been reduced to a lump of black and twisted metal.

‘There, what did I tell you?’ cackled Fuller in triumph.

‘I never doubted it for a second. Come on, let’s get out of here!’

As both men headed for the street, Silver spotted his gun and holster lying on the sheriff’s desk. He quickly buckled it on as his companion opened the jailhouse door and peered outside. There was no sign of anyone as both men emerged into the waning sunlight of a late afternoon.

Fuller headed straight for the post office. ‘I bet there’s no one guarding that money,’ he said as his hand touched the doorknob.

‘Are you crazy? We need to get our horses from the stables and leave before anyone notices.’

‘It’ll only take a minute,’ insisted the older man. As he began to open the door, Fuller felt his companion’s revolver dig in to his ribs.

‘You leave that cash where it is, Seth. I’d hate to have to kill you.’

‘God damn it, what the hell’s wrong with you? We could be rich as well as free!’

The gunman shook his head. ‘I’m through stealing.’

‘Well I ain’t!’ his companion shot back defiantly.

‘Once we’re outside town you can split and do whatever you want. Until then, just do like I tell you. Now move!’

There was a great deal of muttering as Fuller reluctantly let go of the door knob and moved down the street toward the stables. When they entered, he looked around for the best horse but Silver prodded him once more with his gun.

‘We’ll just take the ones we came with.’

‘There are a couple over there that are much faster,’ grumbled his companion.

‘If our horses are slow, we’d best be on our way.’

Still muttering at what he regarded as Silver’s attack of lunacy, Fuller saddled his horse, then bent down and frowned as he examined its leg.

‘What’s wrong now?’

‘The goddamn horse is lame. Come on, see for yourself.’

As Silver lowered his gun and peered downwards in the dimly lit stable, Fuller reached up and grabbed the horseshoe he had spotted hanging on a nail. He was about to bring it crashing down on the gunman’s skull when Silver sensed the flash of movement behind him, spun around and fired.

The bullet ripped through Fuller’s chest at close range and the outlaw staggered backwards. The horseshoe was gripped tightly in one hand as the other clutched the scarlet stain spreading across his shirtfront. The dying man’s knees buckled under him and his body sagged. Silver caught him as he fell.

‘Why did you have to do that, Seth? I didn’t want to kill you,’ he said as he gently lowered him to the ground.

‘I didn’t want to kill you neither,’ murmured Fuller. The fading light in his eyes could not disguise his look of puzzlement. ‘You didn’t want the money . . . Why, Judd? Tell me . . . why?’ Then blood frothed from his lips, his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he let out his last breath.

‘I made a deal, Seth, but not the kind you’d understand,’ whispered Silver as he gave the dead man a reply that would never be heard. Then he quickly found his horse, swung himself into the saddle and galloped out of town before anyone discovered his absence.

Back at the other end of town, Callaghan opened his eyes as the world slowly swam back into focus. The concerned faces were blurred for a moment before he recognized Martha Endicott, the minister’s wife, who was holding a damp cloth to his forehead, Matt and Rosie Carver and young Mick Harper. Their voices, faint at first, grew louder as he sat up and then winced in pain.

‘Take it easy, Luke. You took a mighty big blow there,’ Carver told him.

The sheriff’s stomach lurched as the moment of recollection produced a terrible, sick feeling that no words of comfort could assuage.

‘Christina!’ he cried.

‘They won’t hurt her, Sheriff. She’s too valuable as a hostage,’ said Mick Harper. Then he looked uncertainly at his companions. ‘That’s right, isn’t it Mister Carver?’

‘Of course it is.’ The station agent sounded confident and he thought that the boy probably was correct, but no one could be sure.

‘We’ve got to get her back,’ insisted Callaghan as he struggled to his feet, the two women supporting him as he did so.

Carver shook his head. ‘You’re not thinking straight. If we attack them in open country, we’ll be picked off one by one.’

Callaghan hesitated, knowing his friend was right, but instinct urged him on. ‘I have to do something!’ He looked around at them all pleadingly. ‘I can’t just sit here and wait, can I?’

‘I don’t know anything about battle tactics but it seems to me that that is exactly what you must do,’ Martha Endicott told him. ‘Those Apaches and that dreadful man Tate want what they came for. Surely the young lady’s best chance is for us to keep them here fighting until the cavalry arrive, isn’t it?’

Rosie Carver patted the sheriff’s arm. ‘She’s right, Luke. If you men all go out there and get yourselves killed, Tate and the others will just ride in here and take the money. The rest of us won’t be able to stop them – and didn’t you say that Aldo has designs on Christina?’

Callaghan nodded. ‘That’s a very delicate way of putting it, but yes, he does.’

At that moment Arthur Norris came hurrying towards them, still carrying the rifle he used to guard the safe inside the post office where the payroll money was hidden.

‘Judd Silver’s escaped and he’s killed Fuller!’

‘Damn, that’s all we need!’ said Callaghan. ‘Come on, you’d best show me.’

Norris led the way, explaining as he did so that he heard the two men lurking outside the post office following an almighty bang. He could not make out what they were saying, but it sounded like an argument. Silver rode out shortly afterwards and Norris went to investigate.

‘So they didn’t enter or make any attempt to steal the money?’

‘No, Sheriff. I just can’t figure it out.’

‘Maybe they saw you inside with your shotgun,’ suggested Carver.

‘They couldn’t have. I was hiding behind the counter.’

When they reached the jail, Callaghan bent down and examined the burnt-out remains of the firecracker. ‘Well, at least we know how they did it, but it beats me how they managed to get hold of one.’

Norris then led them to Fuller’s body and Callaghan stared at the mass of congealed blood over the hole in the outlaw’s chest.

‘They must have been pretty close up. I guess it was a case of dishonour among thieves.’ Carver looked away from the corpse, disgust etched on to his features.

‘More a case of self-defence,’ replied Callaghan as he prised the horseshoe from the dead man’s fingers. ‘A blow from one of these things could cave your skull in.’

‘I wonder why they argued,’ mused Norris.

‘The way I figure it, Fuller wanted to steal the money and Silver didn’t. Fuller got sore, tried to get the jump on his buddy and Silver fired to protect himself.’

Carver shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. ‘You won’t convince me he’s one of the good guys.’

‘I never said that he was. Maybe he just got tired of killing and stealing, wants to try a different way.’

‘Instead of arguing about it, shouldn’t we be going after him?’ asked Norris.

‘We can’t spare the men, not with what’s going on here. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave Silver to the army to hunt down,’ sighed the sheriff.

‘I’ll go by myself and be back before nightfall. We can’t just let him get away!’ declared the exasperated station agent.

Callaghan clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’re a good man, Matt, and I’d hate to lose you. Silver may be trying to reform a little, but he won’t think twice about shooting another man to defend himself, and he’s faster than you.’

‘I know, but if we just leave it he’ll be in Mexico before long.’

‘Well, never mind. Either he’ll settle down some place and do no more harm, or he’ll go back to his old ways. If he chooses the second option, there’ll be a bullet with his name on it or a noose waiting in a town nobody ever heard of. Now, let’s get this varmint buried and those defences built up, shall we?’

Carver reluctantly agreed and the three men got back to work. Samuel Endicott was summoned to say a few words over the hapless outlaw’s grave. He recited the twenty-third psalm and reminded the three reluctant mourners that the deceased man had a soul no matter what he had done, and might even have repented his misdeeds in the last moments of life. Callaghan seriously doubted this, but said nothing as he put his hat back on and returned to his post. Night would soon be falling, and some instinct told him that this might just turn out to be the most dangerous time of all.