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There were still 2 of our enemies out there and I had them cut off from easy escape. I figured to force the issue, so I shouted, "OK, MEN, WE'VE GOT 'EM SURROUNDED! MOVE IN AND' TAKE NO PRISONERS!" I hoped that would spook the remaining two thugs to try to get to the horses and escape.
Janet took the hint and started moving toward my general area while firing at where she thought the remaining men might be hiding. She must have gotten close to one, because he suddenly jumped up and ran toward the horses. I guess he didn't know that I was there. Anyway, he was less than 20 feet away and I saw him before he saw me; in fact, he never saw me! One shot in the chest with a .45 at that range was enough to flip him head over heels. Eleven down, one to go!
Then there was a shout of pure rage that I'll never forget, "I'VE GOT YA NOW, GREASY DICK CHAFFIN, YA BASTARD! YA MURDERED MY BROTHER, BUT YA'LL ROT IN HELL FER IT FROM NOW ON!" Then there was a string of rifle shots, 7 or 8 in all, fired as fast as the action could be levered. We had killed them all!
When the shooting stopped, I went to find Janet. She was crouched down and bawling her eyes out. Sure she was hysterical from the reaction of finally settling with Chaffin, but I thought she needed to shed her emotions, rather than trying to bottle them up inside her. I just held her in my arms while she cried. She finally quieted down and we just sat still for a while.
When Janet had fully regained control of her emotions, we went to examine the bodies and retrieve my rifle from the brush where I had left it. There was nothing much on the bodies of all the other attackers, but Zimboldt was carrying a gold mine of information.
Two of the papers we found were nothing but a list of names. Could these be new recruits to the Brotherhood? We needed to find out. There was also a list of names, places, and dates stretching about 6 months into the future. Were these future meeting sites and dates? Again, we needed to find out. I was really disturbed because I knew a few of the names on the list. It made me wonder if I was that poor a judge of character, or did I just trust people too much?
We stripped the bodies of useful items and left them to rot, but we took the horses into Roswell. Janet could use the money from their sale. There was a tender reunion between Janet and George, and I could see where that was headed.
I left them to their fate and headed home. I had a lot of work to do if I was going to rid my county of the Brotherhood!
"Adolph! Git in here!""Yes, Master Lee. What kin Ah do fer ya, Sir?"
"Ya kin git me a list of trustworthy agents I kin send after that bastard, Sheriff Lang of Chaves County. That fool, Zimboldt, was carrying a list of crucial information when he was killed, and, now, it has fallen into Lang's hands. We've got to send overwhelming force after Lang afore he kin act on the information he's got. I want that list within the hour! Now, git on it!"
"Yes, Master Lee. Ah'll have the list ready within the hour!"
After I had arrived home and greeted everybody and regaled them with my adventures, I asked Jane to make me 10 copies of the list of names. I was going to send the list to all of my deputies and have them investigate the listed people in their territory. Once that was done (it took 4 days), I had her write a cover letter telling what I wanted the deputies to do. Sam and I took the package of 9 letters to the post office in Hixville. On the way, Sam and I saw an advance crew from the railroad working on the right-of-way. Damn, this was a fine day!
We dropped the letters off and headed to see Walt at the saloon to hear all the latest news. While we were there, we'd have a beer, just to be neighborly, you understand. We were in luck, Sol was there, so we could talk to him at the same time. On top of everything else, Walt was the mayor of Hixville, so I could also get any official notice I needed.
"Howdy Walt, Sol. Anything interesting goin' on?"
"Howdy Bill, Sam. The town's been remarkably quiet, lately. Musta been all that wonderful sheriffin' y'all been doin'."
Sam and I laughed at that and Walt said, "Anythin' new with the railroad?"
Sam said, "Bill an' I saw some workers at the right-of-way as we rode in, this mornin'. I guess they're finally gittin' serious 'bout doin' some work. Looks ta me like they ought to make good time with the construction, since they only got the one arroyo ta cross an' it ain't very wide nor deep."
Sol commented, "I 'spect that they won't do much with that arroyo 'til they kin git some track run up to it. It's a hell of a lot easier to move the construction materials by train than it is by wagon. But I guess that's what the train is fer!"
We talked about this and that for a while until a man ran in and said, "Hey, Marshal. They need ya bad down at the Broken Spur Saloon. There's a big fight an' it looks like knives an' guns'll be out in minutes."
Sol rushed out and Sam and I ran with him. Yes, I know, this was job for the marshal, not the sheriff's office, but everybody can use a little backup. We reached the Broken Spur Saloon in moments, just in time to see one yahoo try to cut the gut of another one with a bowie knife.
Sol yelled, "STOP FIGHTING RIGHT NOW!" This shout was ignored, so he drew his pistol and shot at the ceiling. The man with the knife turned to see who had fired, and the other man used this opportunity to draw his gun and shoot the knife wielder in the gut. He then turned toward us, and I saw his thumb move to cock his pistol for another shot. At that moment,
a gun fired from behind me, and the gunman's shoulder was shattered by a bullet from Sam's gun. Very sensibly, Sam had drawn his gun as soon as we entered the saloon.
The gunman's pistol went flying across the room, and he fell to the floor in agony. The bartender had already sent his swamper for the barber, who did most of the town's doctoring. As it turned out, both the wounded men bled to death before the barber could help them. Sol sent for the undertaker, and Sam and I left, since there wasn't anything else for us to contribute.
We decided to head home, since the killings had kind of taken the shine off the day. We cut down toward the railroad work gang to see if there was anything interesting going on, and we got there as they were taking their lunch break. Sam and I talked to the foreman for a few minutes and left to get our own lunch back at the ranch house.
We were hurrying a bit because we were both hungry. I'm pretty sure that's why the shot at me just nicked my arm; otherwise, I'd be sporting a brand new hole in my chest. I let out a yell and jumped off my horse, grabbing my rifle as I reached the ground. I felt reasonably safe as I was now protected by my horse's body, so I started looking around for the sniper.
Sam had dismounted when I did and had grabbed his rifle, too. Neither one of us could spot the sniper, so we urged our horses into a slow walk toward where we could get some cover to hide behind. We figured that the sniper wouldn't shoot again because of the average westerner's reluctance to shoot a perfectly healthy horse, except by accident. We reached some trees and hid among them with about 10 yards between us.
We banged our horses on the rear end with our palms to get them to move along. I said to Sam, "I'm going ta try somethin'. I'm gonna stick out my hat; maybe the sniper will shoot at it. Ya watch fer powder smoke."
"OK. Go ahead."
We heard a shot. Only a moment later, Sam shot. There was a scream of pain. I waved congratulations to Sam and he waved back. I said, "Cover me while I take a look."
It only took me a few minutes to reach the sniper's location and to find him dead. I waved to Sam to join me, and we examined the corpse. This yahoo had the Brotherhood tattoo, but nothing else to identify him. Well, they had certainly made a mistake: now I knew that they were actively gunning for me. I would be a lot more cautious from now on!
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