39
Dirt was quickly thrown over the fire, extinguishing the flames, and the fifty or so men in the canyon spread out, drawing their guns and getting ready for trouble. But a moment later a familiar voice shouted, “Hello to the camp! We're comin' in!”
“That's Nick!” Tolliver exclaimed. “He's back!” Sure enough, a moment later Nick Holmes and the man who had gone with him on the scouting expedition rode in. Frank and the other leaders of the group gathered around them as they dismounted.
Tolliver clasped Nick's shoulder and said, “How are you, boy? What did you find out?”
The weariness that Nick felt could be heard in the young man's voice as he said, “I'm all right, I reckon. And we've got a little good news, too. Jack and me have been to all the ranches hereabouts, and they're all quiet. We didn't go right up to âem, of course, since there could have been outlaws there waitin' to set a trap for anybody who came scoutin', but we checked them out from a distance and didn't see any signs of trouble, no buildings burned or folks shot up or anything like that.”
“Same thing was true of San Rosa,” the other scout put in. “We looked the settlement over with field glasses, and it seemed peaceful enough.”
Murmurs of relief went through the crowd gathered around the scouts.
“But there's one place that wasn't true,” Nick added grimly. “The Rocking T.”
Tolliver stiffened. “What's going on there?”
“A council of war, looked like. Late this afternoon, Estancia and a bunch of Rurales rode in. Wedge came out to meet them, and him and Estancia were talkin' when they went back into the bunkhouse.” Nick shook his head regretfully. “The main house is gone, burned down.”
Tolliver sighed and nodded. “I figured as much after that dynamite started such a big fire.”
Nick grew excited again as he went on. “I think the whole bunch is there, Cecil. Could be they're tryin' to decide what to do next.” Nick paused and looked around, frowning in the light of the rising moon as he saw all the sombrero-wearing figures. “What in blazes is goin' on here? Who are all these folks?”
Don Felipe stepped forward. “My men and I have come to help, Señor Holmes.”
“And my followers as well,” Carmen put in.
Nick jumped a little in surprise. Obviously he hadn't noticed Carmen until now. “What the hell!”
“It's a long story, Nick,” Ben said. “This is Carmen Almanzar . . . sometimes known as the Black Scorpion, I guess.” Ben shook his head. “It was news to me, too.”
Frank had listened with great interest to the scouts' report. Now he asked Nick, “Are you sure that most of the Rangers and the Rurales are at the Rocking T?”
“Judging by the number of horses in the corral, I'd say they are,” Nick replied with a nod. “We stayed close by until after dark, just to make sure, and it didn't look like they were going anywhere.”
“The Rangers aren't in San Rosa anymore?”
“There may be a few still around there, but not many,” Nick said.
Frank looked at Tolliver, Don Felipe, and Doc Ervin. “This is our chance,” he said. “We can hit them while they're all gathered at the Rocking T, just like they did to us.”
“How do we know this is not some sort of trap?” Don Felipe asked.
“We don't,” Frank said bluntly. “But Wedge thinks he's got us on the run, and Estancia doesn't even know you and your men are on this side of the river, Don Felipe.”
“He knows the Black Scorpion is here,” Carmen pointed out.
“Yes, but he doesn't know that you've teamed up with the Texans. He shouldn't have any idea that our force is now almost as big as his and Estancia's. My guess is that they've gotten together to figure out how to carve up the border country between themselves, now that they think no one is strong enough to challenge them anymore.”
“I say we prove 'em wrong!” Tolliver declared, punching the air with a clenched fist.
After a second, Don Felipe nodded as well. “We should strike while we can. We may not get another chance.”
“I'll go along with that,” Doc Ervin said.
“And I,” Carmen added.
Ben Tolliver and Don Felipe said at the same time, “You're not going along.”
Carmen didn't know which of them to glare at first. “I am part of this now,” she insisted. “You cannot keep me out of it.” She waved at some of the men. “These are my followers.”
Lupe stepped up and said, “They will ride with me into battle, Señorita. I am sorry, but your father and Señor Ben are right. What is coming tonight will be no place for a woman.”
“Oh!” Carmen exclaimed furiously.
“I'll hogtie you and leave you here if I have to,” Ben warned.
Don Felipe nodded. “Yes, you should learn now that you will have to take a firm hand with this one, Benjamin.”
Carmen fumed and fussed, but Ben and her father ignored her.
“Let's get mounted up,” Frank suggested. “It'll take some time to reach the Rocking T, but that's all right. We'll hit them right after the moon sets, not long before dawn.”
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Don Felipe was unwilling to leave Carmen at Sand Mountain by herself. He picked one vaquero to go with her to San Rosa and wait there in the vicinity of the settlement, well hidden until they knew for sure that the Texans and their Mexican allies had been victorious in their attack on the renegades. Then the rest of the group, led by Frank, Cecil Tolliver, Don Felipe Almanzar, and Doc Ervin, set out for the Rocking T.
As Frank had said, the ride took most of the night. The eastern sky was gray, a harbinger of the approaching dawn, when the men neared the ranch. Along the way, the leaders had discussed strategy, so they knew what to do when they got there. Splitting into four groups of twelve to fifteen men each, the men spread out to the compass points. They would attack not in unison but in a slightly staggered maneuver, each group waiting thirty seconds before charging. The northern group would strike first, led by Frank. He had insisted on that, even though Doc Ervin had seemed to think he was too banged up to even be part of this fight. Just try keeping him out of it, Frank had replied with a grin, but he meant every word of it.
After that, the attack would proceed in a counterclockwise rotation. Frank had suggested staggering the charges just in case this really was some sort of trap. He believed that they would take Wedge and Estancia by surprise, but it wouldn't hurt to be a little cautious. This way, if it was a trap, not all the men would be caught in it.
Just before they split up, Frank shook hands with the other leaders. “See you when the fight is over,” he said with a smile.
Then he checked the Colt, slid it back into the holster, and led his men into position.
Waiting for the battle to start reminded Frank of similar experiences during the War of Northern Aggression. As harrowing as combat could be, often waiting was worse.
Finally, enough time had passed so that Frank knew the others were in position. He drew the Winchester from the sheath lashed to Stormy's saddle and worked the lever. “Let's go,” he said quietly to the men with him.
They rode forward, slowly at first and then picking up speed. Ahead of them Frank could see scattered lights that indicated a few lamps were already burning at the Rocking T, despite the early hour. Normally by this time the ranch hands would be getting ready for another day's work, but the outlaws and killers who inhabited the place now weren't that industrious.
Wedge and Estancia weren't careless, though. They had guards posted, and those men couldn't fail to hear the hoofbeats of the approaching horses. As Frank and his men swept toward the ranch, he heard shouts of alarm and saw gouts of flame spurting from gun muzzles. The guards were firing blindly, though; the moon had set, and the darkest hour of the night was upon them.
Frank guided Stormy with his knees and brought the Winchester to his shoulder. He targeted one of the muzzle flashes and squeezed the trigger. The whip-crack of the rifle's report split the night. Frank worked the lever, shifted his aim, and fired again. All around him, the rifles and six-guns of the men with him began to sing a deadly song as well.
To the west, the men in the next group would be counting off the seconds after that opening volley, and when they reached thirty they would charge. After that the other two groups would attack in order, and in less than two minutes, the entire force would be engaged.
That was the way it played out. Frank and his men galloped past the corrals and sprayed the barns with lead as startled Rangers and Rurales hurried outside to see what was going on. They ran right into a storm of lead that scythed them off their feet.
When the rifle was empty, Frank rammed it back in its sheath and drew the revolver that Lupe had given him. It was a Peacemaker just like the one he usually carried, and it had been well cared for. The gun leaped in Frank's hand as he triggered at running Rurales, the bullets sending a couple of them spinning limply to the ground in death.
All over the sprawling ranch headquarters the battle raged. Frank could tell that the renegades had been taken completely by surprise, and the tide was turning swiftly against them. With a tug on the reins, Frank veered the Appaloosa past the burned-out hulk of the main house toward the bunkhouse. Nick had said that was where Wedge and Estancia had gone. Frank didn't want either of those killers to get away.
Gunsmoke and dust clogged the air, but Frank caught a glimpse of a familiar figure running toward a corral where horses milled around in a frenzy, spooked by all the shooting. Estancia! Frank sent Stormy lunging after the Rurale officer. He didn't think Estancia would be able to control any of those crazed horses enough to mount up and make a getaway, but he didn't want to risk it. Estancia had made a habit of slipping out of trouble.
Not this time, Frank vowed as he holstered the Colt. Not this time.
As Stormy closed the distance in a couple of long strides, Frank kicked his feet out of the stirrups and launched himself in a diving tackle. He slammed into Estancia from behind, wrapping his arms around the officer's waist as he knocked Estancia off his feet. Both men rolled through the dust near the corral.
Frank came up first and swung a fist, crashing it into Estancia's jaw and stretching the man out on the ground. Pouncing, Frank landed on top of Estancia. He smashed a right and a left into Estancia's face, bouncing his head off the hard-packed dirt. Frank Morgan had never been a vindictive man, but as he struck the blows he couldn't help but think about the beating he had suffered at the hands of Estancia's minions.
Estancia was stunned, only half-conscious. Frank pushed himself up and got to his feet. As he did so, a strident yell from behind warned him. He whirled around and saw one of the Rurales charging him, bayonet thrust out to impale him. There was no time to get out of the way.
But there was time for Morgan's amazing gun speed to come into play. Frank's hand flickered to his holster and the Colt came up roaring, spitting fire and lead. The bullet drove deep into the Rurale's chest and flung him backward. The tip of the bayonet had been only inches from Frank's stomach when he fired.
Suddenly, Estancia kicked out and knocked Frank's legs from under him. The officer had been shamming to a certain extent, Frank realized as he fell. He tried to roll away, but Estancia landed on top of him and knocked the Peacemaker out of Frank's hand. The gun slid away. Estancia went after it, desperation giving him added speed. His hand closed around the butt of the gun and he brought it up and around, swinging it toward Frank.
Another gun roared and Estancia staggered. He was already crouching. Now he bent over even more and dropped the gun to paw feebly at his chest where the bullet had gone through him. He opened his mouth and blood poured out. Slowly, he crumpled forward and landed on his elbows and knees. His head drooped. After a second he fell over on his side and lay motionless in death.
Frank looked around and saw Don Felipe Almanzar sitting there on his horse, a smoking gun in his hand. Frank lifted a hand in acknowledgment, and Don Felipe nodded. Then the don wheeled his mount and plunged back into the fight that was still swirling around the ranch.
The firing was beginning to die away, however, and Frank knew the battle was almost over. As he picked up his Colt, opened the cylinder, and began to thumb fresh cartridges into it, he looked around and saw the bodies of Rurales and renegade Rangers lying everywhere. He snapped the Colt's cylinder shut and strode toward the bunkhouse, becoming aware as he did so that the dawn had arrived. The eastern sky was rosy now, casting the first light of a new day over the Rocking T.
Frank was looking for Nathan Wedge. So far, he hadn't caught even a glimpse of the Ranger captain. Wedge had to be here somewhere....
Or maybe not. Cecil Tolliver came riding up and called urgently, “Frank! Doc told me he spotted Wedge on horseback, heading hell-bent-for-leather toward San Rosa!”
Alarm went through Frank. Wedge might have a few men left in the settlement. He could intend to rally them, or he might be just trying to escape.
But would he go alone? Or would he grab Roanne Williamson and take her with him?
Frank gave a shrill whistle, summoning Stormy. “Thanks, Cecil,” he said to Tolliver. “If you and Don Felipe can handle the mopping up here, I'm going after Wedge!”
The rancher's bearded face split in a grin. “That's what I was hopin' you'd say. Go get the son of a bitch and give him a bullet for me! I got a burned-down house he's partly to blame for, the hydrophobic skunk!”