My GirlsChapter 32
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Sean spent a miserable night, sleeping on his belly. The station agent's wife had done a good job of cleaning the wound and sewing it up, but she couldn't do much for the pain. She had some willow bark tea which he drank and it helped some, but not enough, to hear Sean tell it.
Still and all, Sean was doing better the next morning. He was able to mount a horse and ride, though he cursed the bouncing every time the horse took a misstep. Ezra could see that Sean wasn't up to riding point, so the subject didn't even come up and Sean hurt too much to notice.
In deference to Sean, they started out at a slower pace than usual. They were well past the second relay station before they saw anybody else on the road. They caught up to a freight wagon pulled by oxen, something one didn't often see in Texas, though they were common over the river in Mexico. When he drew even with the driver, Ezra called out, "Mornin', mister. Kin ya pull over a little to let the stage by?"
"Shore kin, son. Where y'all goin'?"
"We're headed to Austin."
"Thet's a fur piece. Good luck, then."
"Much obliged. Good luck to ya."
The stage edged past and they continued on until lunch without seeing another person on the road. After lunch, they resumed their journey with Sean feeling a good bit better. A lot of the stiffness had worked its way out of his back and he was able to ride much more comfortably. They weren't able to move very fast, but they still made good time because they saw no bandits that day.
At supper, Joe Simpson, one of the guards, asked Ezra, "Ya think we've seen the last of the bandits? Today sure was quiet an' easy."
"Don't bet the farm, Joe. We could be hit anywhere on this trip. We might go a couple days without seein' none, but that don't mean the bandits gave up. I won't rest easy 'til we unload this gold in Austin."
Sean commented at this, "I could wait 'til my back heals afore we see any more trouble, but I wouldn't bet on it."
The next day saw them having to ford two streams and they were on particular guard during these times, but nothing happened. They were about to relax a little when there was a crash from the coach; a wheel had given way. "Damned wheel! I knew we were gittin' off too light!" complained Steve Pearson, the driver.
Steve and Beau La Blank, the shotgun guard, climbed down to fix the wheel while the others maintained a high level of alertness. They replaced the wheel and drove off without being bothered, and everybody wondered how they could have been so lucky!
After lunch, they were passing through some woods when shots rang out and two of the horses in the coach team dropped to the road, both dead. Fortunately, the coach was moving fairly slowly at the time, because the road was rough along here and Steve didn't want to break another wheel. As it was, the coach nearly tipped over before Steve could get the brake applied, and everybody on the coach was badly thrown around.
Steve and Beau were nearly thrown from the driver's box, but they both managed to crouch down before they were hit by bullets from the bandits. "Shit, there weren't no call to shoot the hosses. I'm gonna kill them bastards fer that!" growled Steve as he reached for his Winchester under the seat.
At that moment, there was a cry of pain from the woods; Joe or George must have scored a hit with their shooting. Ezra and Sean had drawn their carbines and ridden off into the woods to try to get behind the bandits, as was their standard reply to this sort of greeting. Sean spotted six horses picketed back from the road, safe from the shooting. That told him that they faced six bandits, with one of them dead or wounded.
Sean was behind the bandits, now, but he didn't want to get too close for fear that he would be shot by fire from the coach. He got off his horse and hitched it to a convenient bush; he still couldn't see any of the bandits, yet, but he had a good idea of where they were from the sound of their shooting. He dodged from tree to tree as he worked his way toward where they were hiding; this was no time to get shot because he was careless.
There was a bandit; hell, he was just a kid! That didn't make any difference, though, when somebody tried to kill you, his age was of no concern. Sean leaned his carbine barrel against a tree to help steady it and took careful aim. He squeezed the trigger and fired his .44-40 into the back of the bandit, between the shoulder blades. The bandit collapsed without a sound; he was dead before he hit the ground.
Ezra had a more difficult time getting through the woods—he ran into a blackberry thicket. His horse, for obvious reasons, refused to enter the thicket, so Ezra had to back up a ways and loop around the bushes. The ground was a little marshy through here, so his horse had to pick its way to drier ground. Ezra was finally in position to dismount and picket his horse; though he could not yet see any bandits.
Ezra headed toward the noise of the shooting just in time to see a bandit slip back away from the firing line and head toward him. Was the bandit trying to flank the coach? It would have been a good idea, if Ezra had not caught him. The bandit was so close that Ezra didn't bother with his carbine; he drew his pistol and fired in one quick motion. The bandit didn't know what hit him; he just suddenly had a fatal hole in his chest. It wasn't until then that Ezra realized that the bandit couldn't be more than 14 years old.
Ezra looked more closely at the next bandit he found, this one appeared to be 30 to 35 years old. Ezra thought, "That's more like it," as he pumped two bullets into this bandit. From now on, Ezra had to watch his step if he didn't want to get hit by a bullet from the coach.
Sean crept up on the next bandit in line and froze. This was a woman! She was about 30 years old and was nearly as surprised to see Sean as she turned around as he was to see her. With a gasp, she raised her carbine to shoot him, and this was enough to wake Sean from his stunned state. He jerked off a quick shot with his own carbine and hit her in the belly; it was a fatal wound, but it did not put her completely out of action. She bent over and then straightened back up, trying to bring her weapon to bear on Sean. He levered in another round and shot her in the head, this time. She fell back completely out of the battle, now.
The next bandit in line was already dead; this must be the one hit by the bullet fired from the coach early in the battle. That left only one bandit to contend with. Sean stepped back behind a tree to catch his breath; his back had started to sting like a firebrand way lying against it. He hoped that he hadn't pulled any of his stitches in the process of this fight.
He was getting ready to go after the next bandit when he heard a shot from just a few feet away. Ezra had claimed the last bandit. Sean saw him and called, "Don't shoot, it's me, Sean!"
"I see ya. How many did ya git? I got three."
"Two, and one from the coach. That's all of 'em."
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