Chapter Fifteen -- Gunfight in Sierra Vista
The sound of voices entering the rock passage where Hagan waited made him
scurry back to the indentation on the left hand wall. He was trapped!
The light of a torch now flickered down the passage. The voices of the
outlaws were plain as day.
"Do you think he found his way through here?"
"Nah, not a chance. To be on the safe side we'll fix up the set gun
pointing to the outside entrance. Two loads of buckshot will stop
anything."
"Ugh, that set gun gives me the creeps. What if one of us got into the
trip wire? That sawed off shotgun would cut someone in two. I don't like
it."
"Believe me, Jud, nobody cares what you think. If you're so stupid that
you walk into the wire you deserve to get your guts blown out. Nobody else has
had any problem."
"But..."
"Shut up. Just shut up and do what you're told. Don't forget, you know
too much for them to let you leave."
A tough bunch, indeed, thought the Arizona Ranger. Apparently they would kill
any member of the gang that tried to leave. Nice people.
"Whew, I'll be glad to get out of this tunnel. What a stench."
"Yeah, it's bad. That animal is making us plenty of money, though, so we
had better put up with it. Don't talk until we get out of here and it won't
bother you so much."
When they passed his hiding place Hagan saw a pair of scruffy characters. The
hats were the first things he noticed, for they were so ratty as to draw
attention. One had a hat of straw and the other was made of felt. Both looked
like they had been used as shotgun targets before a herd of cattle ran over
them. The straw hat had a broken feather stuck in it that made its owner look
like a Mexican street beggar. He had a double looped ammo belt across his chest
that verified the ranger's guess of his origin. There were two things that
Mexicans liked. One was plenty of ammo in an exposed belt. The other was
handguns. They seemed to put a trust in a sidearm that transcended all reason.
Hagan had seen them approaching unknown danger with their rifle or shotgun
forgotten but their pistol at ready.
Their clothes were so rough that the ranger wondered how they could stand
them. Then the obvious reason hit him - they had been away from towns for a long
time with no chance to get new ones. J.D. must have ordered these fellows to
stay here no matter what. The life of an outlaw can be a tough one.
The ranger tried to melt into the rock as they passed. He needn't have
worried. The pair was so sure they were alone that they strode along briskly.
Hagan gave them a good half hour before following. As the light at the end of
the passageway started to show he slowed down even more, for he had not liked
the sound of that sawed off set gun. Gingerly his hands and feet slid over the
surface, searching for a trip wire before he set it off. Fifty feet from the
entrance he could hear voices.
A messenger must have ridden straight back from seeing J.D., for his voice
was authoritative. "Never mind leaving a guard here. If he should come
through the set gun will get him. You two go out to the other camp in the draw.
"Trace, you go up with Vince in case the ranger should come back. You
other guys go into town and see if you can see the ranger. If you do, kill him!
Never minding waiting for an excuse, just shoot him and we'll think of a story
later. He has got to go!"
With that they rode off and Hagan was alone. The wire was at the very edge of
the tunnel, covered with brush and scree. This way a man would set it off and
never even know it was there. Bud was glad he had overheard that conversation or
they might be picking him up with spoons.
He looked over the set gun. It was a regular 12 gauge Greener with the
barrels sawed off to a foot and a half long. That length barrel would be good
with buckshot at close range and fast if the shooter were trying to hit a quail.
The stock had been left alone. Its owner must have used it for many duties. Bud
was tempted to take it with him but left it as to leave no sign of his
whereabouts.
The outlaws had vanished and he had no idea of how far away they were headed.
Here he was without his horse! He resigned himself to hours of walking and
started the long hike around the outside of Lost Valley.
Back in Sierra Vista J.D. Jones paced the floor of his office. Curse the
luck!
Why did an Arizona Ranger have to show up in this town? Wes Smith was blind in
the ways of imagination, but this ranger was sharp. He could send years of
scheming right down the drain. He had to meet with disaster.
J.D. Jones was a man that liked a back up plan. Just in case things went
wrong he began preparations to leave. He had plenty of money and he was free to
go anywhere. He knew he was the big fish in this pond and that is why he had
shied from the larger cities in the past. Why go where there was competition
when he had it all here? To retire? He could, and nobody could say he was a
failure.
Except himself. He did not want to run. Such as it was, Sierra Vista had
become his home. It was going to be the ranger or himself. That was how it had
to be. He removed a Storekeeper's Thunderer from his office safe and slid it
into his suit where he could draw it with his left hand. It was a neat trick,
one last ace up his sleeve, and he might need it if he was to outwit this
ranger. In case the battle became prolonged he filled up a messenger's bag with
cash and securities enough to bankroll any three counties. He wanted to be ready
for any contingency.
Then he sat down at his desk to await word of the ranger's approach to the
town.
Cody Wells was also thinking and wondering. There had been no word from Bud
Hagan. He had not like leaving Bud alone at the entrance to the canyon. Since
then he had received no word, and he was starting to get nervous. There is
nothing worse that idle worry when you are helpless to do anything about a
problem.
It was past the supper hour, and Cody left the jail to take another walk
around town. There were strangers in town, drifting in one and two at a time.
There was an uneasy feeling on the street and the deputy thought he knew what it
was. These men must be waiting for the Arizona Ranger. That must mean he had
made contact in Lost Canyon and then got away.
Clay went into a couple of bars and found them to be quiet. The small groups
of customers had none of the gaiety and good-natured banter of cowboys fresh off
the range.
Their serious faces showed that they had an onerous chore facing them. Wells
felt their eyes fall on his badge and then look away when they saw that it said
Deputy instead of Arizona Ranger. Their orders were clear and they had no time
to waste on him.
Outside an occasional strange face was sitting on a bench, apparently
interested only in watching the world go by. When Cody would ask a question all
he'd receive in return was a grunt. "These guys look like they're sitting
alongside a deer trail, waiting for a big one," thought Wells. He knew that
big one was Bud Hagan.
He went back to the marshal's office and started loading guns. He found a
total of three shotguns and he loaded all three with buckshot. There was also an
1873 Winchester, and he stuffed it full with 44-40 shells. All the time he went
about these chores he was thinking. How could he warn the Arizona Ranger of the
danger that awaited him? He could see no way. He could not be sure of what
approach Bud would take so he could not ride out and meet him. He would just
have to be ready at the instant Hagan came into town.
The Arizona Ranger was slowly riding back to Sierra Vista. He had heard the
outlaws talking and knew he had to be on the lookout for an ambush. He rode with
his left hand holding the reins and his right one near the butt of his Colt.
At the approach to town he walked his horse. He tried to check every rooftop
for possible snipers but saw none. Far up the board sidewalk he could see a few
idle forms, and then from the porch of the jailhouse Cody waved his arm to
Hagan's left side. Bud immediately turned and rode down an alley.
Out on the street those idle forms came to attention. What was going on here?
One of them pulled his pistol and stepped out into the street, only to hear
Cody's voice say, "Drop it right there. I've got you covered."
The man was a non-believer and he snapped off a shot at the deputy, but Cody
nailed him with one shot from his Winchester. This started a small war in the
little town of Sierra Vista. The outlaws concentrated on Cody, and he was forced
to take cover in back of the corner of the sidewalk. Two more thugs started to
rush him from a difficult angle and another rifle opened up down the street. The
two men were forced back.
Cody looked back up the street, trying to find out where the rifle fire had
come from. Finally he saw the curtain fluttering in the open window at the
doctor's house. Sheriff Wes Smith was doing what he could to help.
From out of a saloon burst three outlaws. They came with guns blazing and
they were able to find positions of safety on the street. Their fire was
answered shot for shot but no harm came to either side.
Bud Hagan rode quickly up the length of the town on the backside of the
buildings. Now he left his horse and went up an alley on foot. He eased his head
around the corner and a bullet clipped the wood right above him! That shot had
come from the bank! The ranger caught a glimpse of a white face at the bank
window. J.D. himself! They had him backed into a corner and he was fighting for
his freedom.
Two outlaws heard the commotion and turned their attention to him. He had to
duck back as a hail of gunfire splintered the corner of the building. The two
blasts from a shotgun boomed out and the outlaw guns were silent. Three quick
shots from the other end of town showed that the fighting was wide spread. Bud
looked out in front again and saw a man trying to creep up on the deputy. Hagan
snapped off a shot but had no idea if he connected or not. The outlaw was not in
sight, so the ranger must have been close enough to scare him, anyway.
From the end of the street came a clatter of hooves. On a beautiful black
stallion rode J.D., and he was shouting, "Gang up, men. Follow me to the
canyon!"
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