Chapter
Twelve -- The Raid
The
sound outside the Applebee ranch house was unlike anything either of them had
ever heard. "Uaaaarrgh," it bellowed again.
"What
on earth is that?" whispered Linda.
"I
don't know, but it has to be the same creature the robbery victims have been
hearing. Robbery victims! They must be raiding the ranch!"
"I'll
get my shotgun," volunteered Linda.
"Okay,
but stay inside and protect the rest of your family. Lock the door behind
me."
Out in
the darkness chaos ruled. The horses in the corral neighed in fright and finally
managed to knock down a section of poles and ran away in terror. "CaWhoops"
from unseen riders urged them on. Here and there random shots were fired. In the
bunkhouse the hands were now awake and shots came from that direction, searching
for outlaw targets.
Seeing
movement on the porch, two of the riders rushed Hagan with sixguns blazing. The
ranger desperately returned fire, for he did not want any stray bullets hitting
the people inside the house. The blast of a shotgun came from a window and Hagan
knew he was not alone in this battle. One of the horses buck-jumped, and he knew
Linda must have stung it with birdshot.
A man
with a flaming torch approached the big stable. Hagan took his time and shot him
cleanly. Another man ran over to drag the victim away from the torch and the
ranger let him go.
Bud
heard Leon hollering and before he could stop him the man came out on the porch
beside him. "Leon, get back inside. I'll take care of 'em."
"This
is my spread and I will protect it," Applebee shouted. As if his voice was
a beacon two of the raiders turned their whole attention to it and began to
advance.
"Leon,
you sure as shooting ticked somebody off," muttered Hagan as he pushed the
older man to the side and upended a bench, trying to find cover. The pine bench
was not up to the job, and several bullets hit it and penetrated. The last one
caught Leon in the thigh.
As the
ranger stopped to reload his Colt a rider raced up to try and beat the speed of
those adept fingers. His cry of triumph became one of pain when Hagan pulled his
derringer and snapped a shot that lodged in the outlaw's shoulder.
As
soon as Hagen had reloaded he dropped the big iron in its holster and tied up
Applebee's leg with his kerchief. Then, shouting to Linda to be ready at the
door, he dragged the big man inside and bade the women look after him.
"Keep
a good watch," he told Linda, "I think they may try to fire the
house."
Even
as he ran back outside the coincidence struck him. Fire! The same weapon that
was set upon him in that canyon to the south.
No
time for that now. The scene had become quiet before him. Too quiet. He quickly
but carefully ran around the house. Going around a back corner he nearly
collided with a man carrying an unlit torch. Before the outlaw could even look
up the ranger had nailed him over the head with his pistol barrel.
He
waited a minute and a voice came out of the night.
"Jim,
where'd you go? Jim?" A fresh torch flared and Hagan snapped a shot that
hit the man's shoulder. This one skedaddled but dropped his torch when he ran.
The ranger was forced to pick it up and carry it around the building and toss it
in the water trough. He expected to draw fire from the light, but none was
forthcoming.
A
burst of gunfire came from the direction of the shed that served as a jail. When
a riderless horse came in his direction the ranger was able to grab the reins
and spring to the saddle. Two men were riding out the road to the east, and
after a brief chase Hagan gave up on them and came back to the yard to take
stock.
"Bud,
are you okay?" Linda had run out to be beside him.
"Sure
am, and I appreciate your help," he told her.
"How's
your father?"
"He'll
be all right."
Shouts
came from the direction of the storage shed. "Hank's hurt," came a
cry.
They
rushed over to find the guard to the prisoner lying on the ground and a couple
of cowboys wrapping his chest with a pillowcase.
"Move
over and let me see," commanded Linda. "Is this a clean
pillowcase?"
"Oh,
yes, ma'am," answered an awkward cowboy.
The
wound looked fierce, but it had actually glanced off the ribs and exited without
penetrating the chest cavity. This was one lucky cowboy.
Bud
suddenly remembered the man's job. "What about the prisoner? Is he still in
there?"
The
other cowpoke shook his head. "That's him, over there on the ground."
"What
happened?"
"The
fellow picked a mighty poor time to try an escape. Somehow he got loose and came
out the window just as the raiders rode by. When he rushed out to them they shot
him down. Hank tried to protect him but got shot for his trouble.
The
ranger shook his head in admiration. This was one of the ways of the cowboy. He
would fight an enemy to his dying breath, but if he found that enemy helpless
and in danger he would try to protect him.
Hagan
examined the method of escape. Twombly still had his cuffs on. From the looks of
the inside of the shed the man must have tried everything that might move. He
finally settled on a loose window. Only bad luck made his try to flee when the
ranch was being attacked. Or perhaps he thought the outlaws would recognize that
he was a prisoner and help him escape. It didn't matter now. It occurred to the
ranger that the raiders wouldn't have helped him even if they had known.
Under
Linda's watchful eye the cowboys carried their wounded comrade to the house. He
was a stoic one, just clenching his jaw when they hurt him but never uttering a
word of complaint.
"If
this keeps up we'll have us a regular hospital," said the pretty girl.
"It's
not going to keep up," replied Bud. "I'm going to put a stop to
it."
"Want
me to send a rider to Tombstone to tell them about Twombly?" Leon was up
and at the table already, although it was obvious he would not be walking for a
while.
"No,
I'll just wire from Sierra Vista when I take the body back to town."
"Bury
him here if you want. We already have a good mixture up on the hill."
"Thanks,
Leon, but I'll try to notify his family. There might be somebody that
cares."
The
older man snorted. "Humph, if there are any more of them they're apt to
come gunning for you."
"I'll
have to chance it. It is the right thing to do."
"You
rangers and your code of ethics," Leon shook his head. "I know you're
right, but I hate to see you put yourself in danger."
"It
kind of goes with the job."
Linda
had been in the rear of the room, minding her own business, but now she had to
speak out. "Bud, what about your day off? You need it, and I was looking
forward to our time together."
"We'll
do it real soon, I promise. I've got the feeling that once I find the secret of
Lost Canyon I'll have this case solved. Then we can have some time
together."
He
pulled out by nine in the morning, with the sweet taste of Linda's lips on his
and a dead body draped across the saddle of the horse he was leading. Despite
the macabre load in back of him his mood was light-hearted and he whistled as he
rode along.
Once
he got back in town he went to see Wes Smith and tell him the story.
"Well,
I'll be," said the marshal, "Talk about an odd twist of fate. To
escape just in time to be shot by a band of outlaws. There's some kind of
justice there, but I'm not sure if it's poetic. Live by the gun, die by the gun.
Truer words were never spoken."
"Amen
to that,. Wes. How is Cody working out?"
"Just
fine, as near as I can see. Of course, you know this town. Nothing ever
happens."
"So
you keep telling me, Wes. So you keep telling me."
When
the ranger found Cody Wells he was in for a surprise. The deputy had a black eye
and a mark across his forehead that had to have been made by a gun barrel.
"Quiet
weekend, Cody?"
"Yup.
Of course, there was a tiny little scrap in a bar, but I easily put that
down."
"Let
me guess. You put your face in the way so that they could hurt their fists on
it."
"You
got it. Worked like a charm, too. There are a couple of drawbacks to it but it
is effective."
"Looks
it. Are you up to a few more days?"
"Sure,
but I wouldn't mind a little change of pace. Gets kind of boring hanging around
in this jail."
The
ranger inquired if anybody was in the cells, and when he was told they were
empty he said, "Tell you what. Do you want to ride out with me on a wild
goose chase?
I want
to look for Lost Canyon. I do have a lead, and we should get there by
nightfall."
"Light
me a shuck,' cause I'm on my way."
Hours
later they were riding through the path of destruction that the fire had left.
There
were no signs of animals, no scurries and bird songs; the only tracks were the
ones they were leaving behind them as they rode. The animals had made their
escapes easily, for the scope of this fire had been fairly small, compared to
the huge forest fires in the northern woods. Hagan figured this area would grow
back, richer than before.
"Ah,
that looks like it," the ranger said, pointing to the canyon where he had
followed the outlaw previously. "See that lone pine just above the burn?
We'll split up and meet there. They might still have guards posted up there
somewhere, so be very careful. "
"I
will, and I've brought something to stand behind," joked Cody. He wasn't
wrong, though. He had brought a 56-50 Spencer rifle and that was a powerful
weapon. His sidearm was an 1851 Colt Navy revolver, now outdated but still
formidable if the shooter made sure the caps and chambers were perfectly dry.
"Be
careful," the ranger repeated. Then they rode off on their separate ways.
In a
short while the ranger rode around a clump of boulders and stopped short at the
sight of an old man bent over a patch of bedrock that he had uncovered with a
whiskbroom. When he saw what the old timer was doing he realized that this was a
prospector.
"Howdy,
old timer, any colors?"
The
oldster stood up and grinned. "Not yet, but I've got high hopes. In a lot
of places like this one even the roots burnt out and I can check a lot of
bedrock. Of course, that means dry panning, but I've done worse work."
"I
didn't think there was anything worse," answered Bud, remembering the few
times he had prospected and the back ache that seemed to set in immediately.
These prospectors were tough old birds.
"Say
did you ever hear of a place called Lost Canyon? I'm looking for it. There is
supposed to be some strange beast kept there"
To
this the old man started to chuckle and almost giggle.
"What's
so funny?' the ranger asked sternly.
"If
I was ever there I was also lost, so I don't know if I have been there or
not."
The
ranger grunted and rode on in disgust, Behind him the old man still smiled and
even began to laugh. These lawmen! In such a hurry that they ride right past the
obvious signs. Even when the simple facts are public knowledge. He kept laughing
as the ranger rode out of sight.
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