Brotherhood of the Gun Read online

  And Matt had a good idea who it was holding the rifle on them. “Wellman?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m Matt Bodine. This is my brother, Sam Two Wolves.”

  “Bodine, huh? The Wyoming gunslick?”

  “I’ve used my guns, yes. I’ve never hired them out.”

  “Two Wolves, son of Medicine Horse?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Knowed him. Good man. Sorry business what took place in the Rosebuds. Custer was a fool. You got airy coffee left in that pot?”

  “Probably a cup. It ought to still be hot.”

  “Pour me some. I’m coming in.”

  The old mountain man moved as silently as a wraith. He grinned at Matt and Sam and began poking around in the coals, adding twigs to build up the fire. Then he tossed a couple of sticks onto it.

  “Don’t y’all worry none. Ain’t no ’Paches around, boys. Not no more. But you was right in killin’ this fire ’fore dark come. You smelled the dust, hey?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sam said.

  “They was ’Paches, all right. But they veered off to the west. Probably gonna raid some Hopis and steal their horses. They long gone now.” He lifted cagey old eyes toward Matt. “You been on my backtrail now for some few days. You mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on?”

  Matt leveled with him, starting with Porter trying to kill them. He ended with their suspicions about someone other than Chappo being involved in the kidnapping.

  Wellman grunted. “There ain’t much to Porter. He’s a thief, a murderer, a two-bit bank robber, a bully, a coward, and an all around no-good. He comes traipsin’ down this-away we’ll just blow him out of the saddle and let the buzzards eat him.”

  “Can I come in now, Mister Wellman?” a woman’s voice called from out in the dusk. “It’s cold out here!”

  “Come on in, Laurie. Bring the horses in with you, child.”

  First thing that popped into Matt’s head was that Laurie was anything but a child. Looking at Sam, he got the impression his brother felt the same way.

  Blonde hair and blue eyes, and a little bitty thing; maybe five feet tall. All dressed up in men’s britches; both jeans and shirt poked out in all the right places, for sure.

  Both Matt and Sam got to their boots when she walked up to the fire and shook the coffee pot. It was empty; Wellman had drained it. She tossed the pot to Matt and plopped down on the ground.

  “Well, make some more!” she said. “Don’t just stand there lookin’ like a jackass!”

  Chapter 4

  The old mountain man cackled at Matt’s expression and laughed out loud and slapped his knee when Matt tossed the coffee pot back to Laurie and said, “You want some coffee, you make it yourself, or learn how to ask in a nice way.”

  Laurie hung a cussing on him, using words he had never heard a woman use.

  “Hee, hee, hee!” Wellman cackled. “She’s shore a salty one, ain’t she, boys? I come up on her in Utah. She was totin’ a rifle nearabouts as big as she is and ridin’ a wall-eyed geldin’ with the meanest look I ever did see in a horse.”

  “You should have left her up there,” Matt said.

  Laurie stuck out her tongue at him.

  “Make some coffee, girl,” Wellman said. “And act nice.”

  “Why should I?” she challenged him.

  “ ’Cause I got me a notion these boys been followin’ us so’s they can throw in with us.” He looked at Matt. “Is my notion correct, boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” Laurie asked, glaring at him across the small fire. “You don’t know us. How do we know you aren’t outlaws? And if you’re not up to no good, why are you out here in the middle of this Godforsaken place?”

  Wellman laughed at that but otherwise remained silent. He was enjoying the verbal confrontation.

  Sam took up the question. “We’re not outlaws, Miss. Both of us own large ranches up in Wyoming. Profitable operations. Both of us lost . . . people we cared for during the Custer fight. We needed to get away from that area for a time. That’s why we’re out here.”

  “You got Injun blood in you, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes. My father was Cheyenne and my mother was white.”

  “I don’t like Injuns,” she said flatly.

  “That is certainly your prerogative. However misguided. If you know me and don’t like me, I can understand that. If you don’t know me and don’t like me, that’s ignorance on your part.”

  “I ain’t ignorant. But you talk funny,” she said.

  “Educated,” Wellman told her. “Medicine Horse sent him to a fancy college back east so’s he could learn all them big words. Medicine Horse was a fine man, Laurie. And from what I can gather, so is Two Wolves.”

  “Who?” she looked at him.

  “Sam. That’s his Injun name. Two Wolves. And Bodine ain’t no outlaw, girl. He’s a gunslinger who always fights on the side of the law or the good and just.”

  “Robin and his Hood,” Sam muttered. “Bringing justice to the wild frontier.”

  “You ’bout half smart-aleck, ain’t you?” Laurie cut her eyes to Sam.

  “So I have been told, Miss.” He jerked a thumb toward Matt. “Usually by him.”

  “And if someone else tells you? . . .” Wellman asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Sam has his own graveyards,” Matt said.

  Laurie shut up and concentrated on making the coffee.

  “Outlaw by the name of Lake is bankrollin’ Chappo,” Wellman said. “Chappo and his braves case out a ranch for young blonde girls. Ten years old or under. This has been goin’ on for about a year and I don’t guess anybody other than me has put it all together. Or if they did, they ain’t done nothin’ about it.”

  “They sell them into slavery?” Sam asked.

  “Worser than that. One shipload went to South America. Another went to the A-rabs. That’s where the next ship will be headin’, too.”

  No one wanted to verbalize what the young girls were being sold into, but all knew.

  “There are disagreeable people among all races,” Sam said with a sigh of frustration.

  “That ain’t exactly the way I’d say it,” Wellman told him. “But that’ll do for the time bein’.”

  “Lake,” Matt said. “The bank robber?”

  “That’s him. Bank robber among other things. He’s filth more’un anything else. Got him an army of about fifty or so men that’s just as bad or worser than he is. Got him a place somewheres down in the Patagonias. Right close to the Mexican border. It’s an old fort. Build to withstand damn near any army.”

  So the Gila Mountains story had been a ruse on Wellman’s part. “Have you ever seen it?’

  “Several times. Last time was about twenty-five years ago. The Mexican Army built it outta adobe and rock. Walls twelve-fifteen feet high and two-three feet thick. They was gonna protect the town nearby. But the town never did amount to nothin’ so the soldiers left. The girls is taken by wagon over to a little town on the Gulf of California, where the Coyote runs into the Gulf. They’re loaded on ship there.”

  “The ship’s captain?” Sam asked.

  “Morgan. Run slave ships back when that was a boomin’ business. He’s a pirate, among other things.”

  “The name of the ship?” Matt asked.

  Wellman spat into the fire. “The Virgin Princess.”

  * * *

  Laurie might sometimes have the disposition of a hyena and the mouth of a painted-up hurdy-gurdy girl, but Matt would give her good marks for cooking. He admitted that reluctantly.

  She fried up bacon and then cut up potatoes and a little bit of onion and red peppers. She’d made pan bread in another skillet and served up a good breakfast. But her coffee was a tad weak for the men. However, no one had yet mentioned that to her, since none of the three felt up to receiving a good cussing this early in the morning . . . especially after such a good breakfast.

  Sam, t
he ever-diplomat, said, “This is an excellent breakfast, Miss Laurie.”

  “Thank you, Sam,” she smiled at him. “Please drop the Miss. Just Laurie.”

  Wellman winced and Sam gave his blood-brother a dirty look when Matt said, “Coffee’s weak.”

  Laurie gave him a bleak look and then proceeded to tell Matt where he could put his coffee cup, full or empty, and if there was room—and according to her verbiage, there was probably ample space—his saddle, his guns, and his boots as well, including the spurs.

  “Laurie and I will share the duties of cooking,” Sam jumped in before Matt could unload on her. “She can continue preparing these excellent meals and I shall make the coffee. If that’s all right with you, Laurie?”

  “That’s fine, Sam,” she said with a tight smile. “You’re too nice a person to have taken up with the likes of him!” She glared at Matt.

  Matt smiled at her. “I’m so looking forward to traveling with you over all the miles yet ahead of us, Laurie. I’ve always wanted to learn more about the seamy side of life.”

  Laurie smiled very sweetly at him. “No doubt,” she said. “Since probably the only romance you’ve ever had is when you kissed your horse!”

  Wellman and Sam were still laughing as they saddled up and rode south. Wellman took the point and Matt brought up the rear, Sam, Laurie, and the packhorses between them. It promised to be a very exciting trip—in more ways than one.

  The small band turned more west than south, keeping the Puerco to the south of them. They stopped and cooked supper several hours before sunset. Then they moved on several miles before making a cold camp for the night.

  Matt and Laurie had little to say to one another and did their best to avoid each other. Much to the relief of Sam and Wellman.

  “We’ll be in Horsehead Crossing in a couple of days,” Wellman said the next morning. “We can resupply there and rest for a day. Prowl around and see if we can pick up any information. And my bones is tellin’ me we got someone on our backtrail.”

  “They’re laying back,” Matt said, pouring another cup of coffee. “It’s probably that bunch we met back at the trading post. Porter and his gang.” He lifted his eyes to look at Laurie. “Porter wants you, Laurie. He called you a stray.”

  “I know him. I been on my own since I was fourteen. Cooking in two bit towns; drifting while I looked for my brother.”

  “Your brother is probably all Apache by now,” Matt told her, a gentleness in his voice. “And I don’t mean that in an ugly way.”

  “I know you don’t,” Laurie replied. “And I realize that if he’s still alive, he no longer thinks of himself as white. He was just a boy when they took him. I was eight years old. That was almost thirteen years ago, I don’t have to see him, or even get close to him. I just want to know if he’s still alive. Indian or white. He’s the only family I have except for some cousins back east that I’ve never seen. Do you understand, Matt? Any of you?”

  Matt slowly nodded his head. “I think we all understand, Laurie.” He held out his hand. “Truce?”

  She took his hand. Her hand was not lady-soft, but rough and callused. Matt could sense the strength in her flowing through her hand. The young woman had done a lot of hard work in her life, making her way alone in a predominately man’s world.

  “Truce, Matt.” She grinned impishly. “But you wouldn’t know a good cup of coffee if it was poured on you!”

  * * *

  Laurie and Sam were hitting it off well, and both Matt and the old mountain man were glad to see it. Sam was usually very stand-offish around women, and Wellman had said that Laurie just flat-out didn’t trust men.

  “Maybe some good will come out of this fool’s errand after all,” Wellman said.

  “You think this is a fool’s mission?”

  “In a way. Even if we find that old fort—and it’s sorta fuzzy in my mind exactly where it is—how the hell are three men and a child gonna fight our way in and get the girls out?”

  “Laurie is no child, Dick,” Matt reminded him.

  “Maybe not to you. But she is to me.”

  “If you don’t think there’s a chance, why did you start out?”

  “I’m seventy year old, boy. I’ve took a lot of lead in my time, and three arrowheads. One’s still in me. And it’s done moved. It ain’t where it was all these years. I done been to three doctors. They all say the same things: They can’t operate ’cause they don’t know where it is, and that I could drop dead any time if the arrowhead hits some vitals. Or be paralyzed if it lodges next to my backbone. Death’s all right. Not bein’ able to walk or ride ain’t. ’Sides, this girl them crud tooken is a favorite of mine. And she ain’t my granddaughter; she’s my great-granddaughter.” He grinned, exposing a pretty good mouthful of teeth for his age and the time. “I married young.” He turned around, twisting in the saddle and that move saved his life as a bullet wuffed past his head, followed by the boom of a rifle.

  “Sam!” Wellman yelled, pointing. “Head for the rocks to your left.”

  “Why there?” Matt shouted, over the pounding of hooves as they raced up the canyon.

  “I know this area. They’s water and good graze behind them rocks.”

  If they could get to it, both men were thinking as they spurred their horses.

  Then there was no more time for hollered conversation—only survival, as the lead began bouncing off the rock walls of the canyon, whining and singing wickedly. Whoever it was shooting at them were in positions above them, at the top of the canyon walls.

  When they reached the protective covering of the rocks, Matt saw blood on Sam’s face. Sam shook his head. “Piece of rock hit me. I’m all right. Who are they, Matt? Did you see anything?”

  “Nothing. But if they were Apaches they wouldn’t have screwed up the ambush. Porter and his bunch, probably.” He looked around. “Hold down the place. I’m going to look for water.”

  As he inspected the flat among the rocks, he knew they had lucked out. It would take an army, storming the place, to get to them.

  Now if there was just water.

  He crawled up into the rocks, his Winchester cradled in his arms and dragging his canteen by the strap. Being careful not to expose himself, Matt found a notch and peeked out. He grinned at what he saw. Across from him and some feet below his position, on the lip of the canyon wall, he could plainly see several men squatted down behind rocks.

  Matt leveled his rifle, sighted in, and shot one through the head. He shifted the muzzle and got another in the belly just as the man jumped up to run for better cover. The outlaw squalled and fell headfirst over the lip of the wall, screaming on the short trip down. He landed on the hard-pack below and did not move. Matt scooted back a few feet, and continued his search for water.

  He found the tank high up in the rocks, and it was in a shady location and full. Matt drank deeply of the coolness and made up his mind that if they did not have to use any of the water, they would not. They would leave it for the birds and bees and small animals who depended on it being there.

  Matt found himself a comfortable spot with a good view and settled in. Sooner or later one of the outlaws would get careless and expose himself. It would be his last careless act.

  Matt Bodine pulled a piece of jerky out of his pocket and chewed on it slowly, savoring the juices. He had plenty of time.

  Looking down from his high perch, Matt could see the others in the party settling down in secure positions; the horses had been placed behind boulders and Laurie was with them, calming them down, whispering to them. Matt didn’t want to give away his new position just yet, so he waited and watched.

  “Wellman!” the shout split the quiet after the brief gunfight.

  “What’d you want, punk?” the old mountain man called out.

  “The gold and the woman. Give ’em up and you can ride on.”

  “Go to hell!”

  Matt knew the mountain man would die before giving Laurie to that bunch of crud. He lis
tened to them cuss each other back and forth across the canyon trail.

  “We got water and graze, Wellman. So we’ll just wait you out.”

  Graze was the problem, Matt silently pondered. They had a few hatfuls of corn for the horses, and that was it when it came to feed. They had water for the animals, but no natural graze except for a few stubby plants that were defying odds by growing amid the rocks. Matt didn’t even know what they were. Whatever they were, they wouldn’t last long.

  “Well, now,” Matt muttered to the sky and the rocks, as he thumbed back the hammer on his Winchester, “I reckon I’ll just open this dance and see how they like the tune.”

  Chapter 5

  Matt searched carefully until he found a target. And he had to look twice to make sure it was what he thought it was. One of Porter’s men had part of his boot exposed; the front part. Matt sighted in, took up slack on the trigger, and let the rifle fire itself.

  Wild, painful screaming followed the booming of the Winchester.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ!” the man yelled. “He blowed my toes off. Oh, God, it hurts.”

  The outlaws on the other side of the canyon opened fire, but they hit nothing except air and rocks.

  Midday passed with only a few shots being fired from the other side of the canyon. The shots drew no blood from those positioned safely in the rocks. The outlaws cursed and called out wild and obscene suggestions about what they were going to do with Laurie when they grabbed her. Sam carefully sighted on one man and shot him through the kneecap. His screaming put an end to the obscenity-shouting for a time.

  About four o’clock, the shadows beginning to purple and lengthen, Porter and his bunch gave it up with a final shouted threat and rattled their hocks out of there. Matt stayed in his position and watched them ride out, first to the west, then cutting south. Two men were riding tied in their saddles.

  “It looks like they’re riding toward Horsehead Crossing!” he called from above the others. “I’m coming down.”

  Matt scrambled down and joined the others.