Rimfire Read online

  Chance let out an exasperated growl.

  Patterson went on. “The door was open just a crack, and I didn’t light a lantern. I reckon there’s a good chance they didn’t know anybody was around.”

  “Which means they probably think they got away free and clear,” said Ace. “If your dog hadn’t barked and woke you up, we wouldn’t have any idea what happened to Ling. She would have just disappeared.”

  “We would have blamed it on McPhee,” said Chance. “We tried to, until we found out different.”

  “If they were smart enough to figure that out, they might have thought we’d start looking for them by heading for McPhee’s ranch. That means they’d go the other direction. North instead of south, right?” Ace looked to Patterson for confirmation.

  The liveryman nodded. “Rimfire and McPhee’s Tartan spread are south of here, all right.”

  “What’s north?” asked Chance.

  “The Canadian border, if you go far enough. Not much between here and there except open range. Some of the spreads hereabouts use it for grazin’, but there’s no civilization to speak of.”

  “What about on the other side of the border?” Ace wanted to know.

  “More of the same for a long way.”

  Ace looked at his brother. “It doesn’t sound like there’d be anything in that direction to appeal to them. At least in Rimfire there are saloons where Haggarty could gamble.”

  Patterson said, “Oh, yeah, there’s several saloons in Rimfire. It’s a pretty wide-open town.”

  “We should at least check for fresh tracks leading south,” Ace went on.

  Chance nodded. “That sounds about like the only choice we have.”

  “You boys are goin’ after ’em, then?” asked Patterson.

  Both Jensen brothers looked at him, grim-faced and determined, and Chance said, “Was there ever any doubt?”

  * * *

  Rimfire was a long day’s ride to the south, but according to Patterson, Ace and Chance would be able to reach it by nightfall . . . or thereabouts, anyway. They were thankful for that because it meant they wouldn’t have to lay in enough supplies for a longer journey. They bought some extra biscuits at Plummer’s Café and some jerky at the general store. That would serve as their midday meal.

  They had a good breakfast before they set out, although the time spent doing so chafed at the brothers. Every minute that passed was a minute Ling and Haggarty were using to build a bigger lead. Yet with it likely they were heading for Rimfire, time wasn’t quite as much of the essence as it might have been otherwise.

  Finally they were ready to ride out. They started by crisscrossing the area south of town, searching for fresh hoofprints left by two riders. They found several such trails, but without knowing anything about the horses Ling and Haggarty had been riding, it was impossible to be sure which of the tracks belonged to them—if any of them did.

  “We’re just going to have to head down there and see what we can find,” Ace said as they reined in and sat staring at some of the tracks they had found leading south.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Chance thumbed back his hat. “The only thing we’ve got going for us is that they don’t know we figured out what happened. They may be just moseying along and taking it easy. They might not be planning on getting to Rimfire until sometime tomorrow.”

  “In which case we might catch up to them today,” said Ace.

  “Yeah. So we’d better do some riding, hadn’t we?”

  By way of answer, Ace heeled his big chestnut into motion again. Chance was right beside him on the cream-colored gelding. Both horses had plenty of strength and stamina, and they moved out smartly in ground-eating lopes.

  The Jensen brothers were accustomed to long days in the saddle, although it had been a while since they’d made a fast ride. They stopped occasionally to stretch their legs and let their mounts rest, and at midday they paused longer. Riding the horses into the ground wouldn’t accomplish anything, and the halt gave them a chance to eat the food they had brought along, washed down with water from their canteens.

  Most of the time, however, they were on the move, and the miles rolled past. A few mountains were visible in the distance, but the terrain where they rode was grass-covered prairie with a few sparsely wooded hills. Now and then a dry wash or a rocky ridge blocked their path and they had to find ways around the obstacles, which slowed them down and increased their frustration.

  “I still don’t want to believe it was all a lie,” Chance said at one point during the afternoon.

  “You mean the things that Ling told us?”

  “Yeah. All that stuff about her father selling her, and the things she’s had to go through since then.”

  Ace shrugged. “All that might have been true. There may have even been some truth to the story about Haggarty winning her in a poker game. Seems like he hasn’t exactly been keeping her a slave ever since then, though. From the sound of what Mr. Patterson told us, they’re more like partners than master and slave.”

  “Lovers, more like,” Chance said with a disdainful grunt.

  “Well, could be. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve run this little game before. Haggarty loses Ling in a poker game, then she passes word to him about when to rob the unlucky fella she winds up with.”

  “I’ll bet she doesn’t even talk like that,” Chance said bitterly. “‘This one’ this and ‘this one’ that. Calling herself a humble servant. Bowing to us, for God’s sake!”

  With a rueful smile, Ace said, “You’ve got to admit, it worked pretty well.”

  “Yeah, but they’re not going to get away with it. We’ll catch up to them, either before we get to Rimfire or there in the town, and then we’ll settle things. Haggarty’s not gonna get away this time.”

  “What about Ling?” Ace asked. “If we’re right, she’s as much a part of it as he is.”

  “She ought to go to jail, that’s what!”

  “It won’t be easy, sending a woman to jail, no matter what she’s done. Sort of goes against the grain, doesn’t it?”

  Chance frowned. “Well . . . maybe. If we could get our money back, and if she promised not to try to fool anybody else like that . . .”

  “You’d believe her if she made a promise like that?”

  “If Haggarty’s in jail where he belongs, she won’t have much choice, will she?”

  “We’ll see.” Ace had a hunch things wouldn’t work out that neatly. They seldom did. But at least he and his brother could try to recover their money without ruining the rest of Ling’s life, if it was at all possible.

  They saw quite a few grazing cattle during their ride but no other people until, in the middle of the afternoon, they topped a long, gradual rise and spotted a line of wagons stretched out across the prairie about half a mile ahead of them.

  “Look up there,” Chance said. “It’s a wagon train. I didn’t think there were any of those around anymore.”

  “There are plenty of places left where there’s good homesteading land, but the railroads don’t go there yet. Wagon trains are still the best way to get there.”

  “But this is all ranch land around here.”

  “It’s open range. The government opens up some of it for filing on, now and then, and farmers or smaller ranchers move in. That’s what leads to range wars, which you’d know about if you ever read a newspaper.”

  Chance waved off that suggestion. “If there’s anything really important going on in the world, I figure you’ll tell me about it. There haven’t been any range wars around here, have there?”

  “Not yet. But if those are farmers in those wagons up there, there’s no telling what might happen.”

  Having gained on the wagon train since their horses could move considerably faster than the teams of oxen hitched to the big, canvas-covered vehicles, they were only about a quarter mile behind the lumbering wagons. That was plenty close enough for them to hear the sudden roar of gunshots as a group of riders boiled up seemingly
from out of the ground and charged at the wagons, firing as they went.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ace figured out instantly that the attackers had been lurking in one of the dry washes that slashed across the range, out of sight of the approaching wagons. Whether they were thieves who’d just been waiting for unwary travelers to come along, or whether they were targeting this wagon train specifically, Ace didn’t know, nor did it matter.

  What was important was that innocent people were in danger, and the Jensen boys couldn’t stand by and do nothing. They weren’t made that way.

  Ace yanked his Winchester from the sheath strapped to his saddle and called, “Come on!” as he heeled the chestnut into a run. Chance had pulled his rifle, too, and was right beside him.

  Both brothers were excellent riders, and their mounts were well-trained. They were able to guide the horses with their knees while they lifted the Winchesters to their shoulders.

  The wagons had come to a halt. The people on them had scrambled for cover as bullets started to fly. Some of the pilgrims had retreated into the canvas-covered backs of the vehicles while others crouched underneath the wagons. Booming reports floated across the prairie, along with clouds of powder smoke as the immigrants began putting up a fight.

  Unfortunately, the attackers were mounted on fast-moving horses, and that made them difficult targets as they raced around throwing lead at the wagons. In an earlier time period, Indians had attacked wagon trains in the same manner, trying to drive the white settlers from their land, but the high point of native resistance on the plains had come almost a decade earlier when George Armstrong Custer and members of the Seventh Cavalry had been wiped out at Little Big Horn. Since then, danger from Indians had declined until it wasn’t a real threat anymore.

  The white riders circling the wagon train with guns blazing rode fast, crouching low in the saddle to make themselves smaller targets, and directed a steady fire against the wagon train. In the first few seconds of the Jensen brothers’ charge, Ace had already seen several of the defenders fall.

  He and Chance opened fire on the attackers. One of the riders threw his arms in the air and pitched off his horse. He landed hard, rolled over a couple times, and came to rest in a limp sprawl of arms and legs that indicated he was probably dead.

  The raiders became aware that they were under assault from a different direction. Several of them peeled off and galloped out to meet the charge. Smoke and flame spouted from their guns as they raced toward Ace and Chance.

  Ace saw dirt spurting up where bullets plowed into the ground in front of them. He stayed calm, drew a bead, and squeezed the Winchester’s trigger. One of the men rocked back as the bullet smashed into him. Another man dropped his gun, twisted in the saddle, and clutched his shoulder where Chance had drilled him. He pulled his horse into a looping turn away from the fight.

  A bullet whipped past Ace’s ear, the closest any of the flying lead had come so far. Ace fired again, and from the way one of the horses leaped, he figured he’d creased the animal. The rider had to grab the saddle horn to stay mounted and forgot about shooting as the horse sunfished away to the side.

  Evidently, the two men left didn’t care for a battle with even odds. They wheeled their horses and raced back toward their companions, who were still galloping around and firing on the wagon train.

  The clouds of dust and gun smoke in the air made it difficult to know how many were involved in the attack. Ace estimated at least twenty. He and Chance peppered them with slugs as they continued their charge.

  One of the men suddenly broke away from the others, shouting and waving an arm above his head. He galloped back in the direction they had come from. The others wasted no time in following him. They were giving up the attack on the wagon train.

  Bullets hurried them along as they disappeared one by one into the wash where they had been hiding earlier. Ace wasn’t surprised when he saw spurts of powder smoke from the edge of that gully. The men had dismounted and taken cover but hadn’t given up on their assault, after all.

  “They can keep those wagons pinned down until they’ve picked off everybody!” Chance shouted.

  “I know! Let’s see if we can flank ’em!” Ace swung the chestnut to the left and rode wide around the wagons.

  Chance did likewise as a couple men on horseback left the wagon train and angled out to join them.

  Bullets whined around them as the men in the wash tried to keep them from splitting away from the wagons. The four riders were moving so fast it was hard to draw a bead on them. They converged on the wash a few hundred yards away from where the attackers had gone to ground.

  Ace barely had time to glance at the men from the wagon train as he swung down from the saddle. One was older, one younger, that was all he saw.

  Then he and Chance slid down the bank to the bottom of the gully, each holding his rifle at a slant across his chest. The other two followed. When they reached the bottom, they didn’t bother with introductions, just gave each other curt nods, then trotted toward the spot where the attackers were holed up.

  As the defenders rounded one of several bends, bullets suddenly flew past them. A force had been sent to meet their flank attack. Ace flung himself behind an outcropping of dirt and fired at the darting figures ahead of them. Chance and the pair from the wagon train sought cover, as well, and returned the fire. Quickly, it turned into a standoff as bullets flew back and forth in the gully.

  Ace spotted a leg sticking out from behind a rock and instantly drilled a rifle round through it. The wounded man howled in pain and flopped out into the open. Almost before he hit the ground, his body jerked as a couple slugs punched into it. He spasmed a couple times, then lay still as death claimed him.

  Ace looked across the gulley at the older man from the wagon train, who waved and gave him a friendly grin, seemingly not that concerned about the deadly battle in which they found themselves. The man reached inside his shirt and pulled out something that made Ace’s eyes widen in surprise.

  The man was holding a stick of dynamite with a short fuse attached to it. “You fellas make them rifles sing and dance!” he called to Ace as he fished a match out of his pocket.

  “Pour it on ’em!” Ace shouted. He and Chance and the young man fired as fast as they could.

  The older man lit the fuse, stepped out away from the bank, and threw the dynamite along the wash. It turned end over end as it flew through the air. Guns fell silent and men shouted in alarm as they spotted the pinwheeling cylinder. Then the dynamite dropped out of sight.

  A split second later, a thunderous explosion rocked the ground. A column of dust and smoke rose into the air. Gravel pattered down like rain.

  As the echoes of the blast rolled away across the prairie, the defenders heard pounding hoofbeats moving away fast. With no way of knowing whether more dynamite was about to come sailing in at them, all the attackers could do was light a shuck out of there as fast as they could.

  The younger man from the wagon train let out a triumphant whoop. “That did it, Uncle Dave! Those varmints won’t stop runnin’ until they get to Kansas!”

  “Don’t count on that, Rufe,” said the older man. “But at least we spooked ’em for now. We’d best make sure they didn’t leave any wounded behind. A crippled predator’s the most dangerous critter out there.”

  The defenders all moved out from the banks where they had taken cover.

  The older man, whose jaw was covered with silvery beard stubble, nodded to Ace and Chance. “We’re mighty obliged to you young fellas for your help. My name’s Dave Wingate. That strappin’ youngster is my nephew Rufe.”

  “We’re the Jensen brothers. I’m Ace, he’s Chance.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Wingate. “We’re gonna check on the damages up ahead.”

  “We’ll come with you.” Chance reached under his coat and pulled the revolver from his shoulder holster. If there was any more gunplay, the odds were that it would be close work.

&n
bsp; Ace drew his Colt, too. The four men moved forward along the wash, past the dead man lying next to the bank, and on around the next bend.

  The explosion had left a good-sized crater in the gully floor, along with gouging out part of the bank. The bloody remains of several men were scattered around, indicating just how devastating the damage had been.

  The grisly scene made Ace a little sick. He could tell that Chance and Rufe were feeling green around the gills, too. Wingate seemed to take the carnage in stride, though. Given his age, it was likely he had served during the war, and no doubt had seen worse things on the battlefield.

  “Wish I knew whether Mitchell was among those blowed-up carcasses,” the older man commented. “If he is, we might not have to worry about the rest of that bunch. Without him to lead ’em, there’s a chance they won’t bother us no more.”

  “You know the men who attacked you?” Ace asked.

  “I know one of ’em—Clade Mitchell. He signed on as one of our guides, but he was just leadin’ us out here so he could signal the rest of his no-good bunch when to jump us.”

  “I caught him usin’ a mirror to signal to somebody yesterday,” Rufe put in. He was a tall, broad-shouldered young man with a shock of curly black hair under his wide-brimmed hat. “When I asked him what he was doin’, he pulled his gun and walloped me.” Rufe pointed to a bruise on his forehead. “I reckon the only reason he didn’t shoot me was because he didn’t want to alert the rest of the wagon train. He figured on killin’ me quiet-like. But Uncle Dave come along and spooked him. That’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

  “Mitchell lit a shuck outta there, rather than explain what he was doin’,” Wingate said. “I knew then we were in for trouble, that it was only a matter of time before outlaws hit the train. There was nothin’ we could do except press on, though. Sure couldn’t turn around and go back to Missouri, not after comin’ this far.”

  “That’s where you’re from, Missouri?” Chance asked.