The Prettiest Girl in the Land (The Traherns #3) (7 page)

“Keep it with you at all times,” he told us. “If those outlaws
want to try again, we will give them something to think about. If we are forced
to stop, don’t stay in the coach and don’t stay in a group. Grab your guns and
scatter. We know these men won’t hesitate to kill. The station man was not
meant to live. Nor were we.”

It stopped the exchange of stories and general conversation. The
men sitting next to the windows kept watch, and the rest of us just sat there
silent, each one with his own thoughts.

I was listening for Travers. I figured he would give first
warning.

The morning was still early as we came down into a shallow
hollow, where trees announced the presence of water. Suddenly Travers barked
and jumped from the stage. The stage stopped.

We sat inside for a second, wondering what was going on. Then
one of the men jumped out with his gun and the rest of us followed. I hit the
ground running, saw a boulder and dropped behind it.

Then nothing.

No sound.

I looked out enough to see the driver still sitting on the
coach, but Travers and the man riding shotgun were out of sight. So was Gage.

I waited for what seemed like long enough for corn to grow, then
suddenly Travers stuck his nose in my hand.  I just about left the ground.

He gave me a couple of “howdy” licks, then took off, nose to
ground, still checking things out.

Eventually Gage called, “All clear.” I stood up with the rest of
the passengers. The driver took the stage on down into the hollow and we all
walked down behind it.

“What did Travers bark at?” I asked, when I got close to Gage.

“There’s a dead man over in those rocks. He’d been hastily
buried by throwing some dirt on his body. Travers dug at him, so I put a rope
on him and pulled him out. I’m not sure, but I think it may have been one of
the men who attacked us. He’s not a pretty sight, so stay back. I’ll see if any
of the men recognize him.”

“You think they brought him this far, then he died?”

“Or they shot him because he wasn’t able to keep up.”

“If he was with them, we know they’re ahead of us.”

“Yes.” He paused, then added, “I put your bag on last and didn’t
tie it down. Just in case you need to grab it quickly. Travers sleeps on it.”

“He’s a good dog.”

“He is that. There’s a steep spot just ahead. The driver says it’s
been the scene of several holdups. I’ll be riding ahead, checking it out, but I
want you out of the coach.”

“Wouldn’t he want everyone out, if it’s steep?” I asked. “We
could all follow along, strung out, carrying our rifles. It would seem logical.
As a woman, and therefore the slowest looking, I could bring up the rear.”

Gage reached into his boot and pulled out a small derringer. “Do
you have any place hidden where you could carry this? The more prepared you
are, the better.”

“My skirt has a deep pocket.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Oh, yes. Trey taught us rifles and handguns. And shotguns.”

“It’s loaded.”

“No good if it weren’t.” I carefully put it into my pocket,
pointed down, with the grip ready to hand.

“One shot. Make it count.”

I nodded.

The driver called, “All aboard,” and I joined the others inside.
This time I asked for and got a window seat, where I could look up the road.

Gage may have been overly cautious, but a person who isn’t
prepared is usually the first victim. The one ready to act is the one who comes
out alive.

About an hour later the mules slowed down and the coach jostled
over some rocks. I looked outside.

This must be the stretch Gage spoke about. I stuck my head out
the window and hailed the driver. “Hi. Let me walk awhile.”

“Mighty steep here, miss. And rocky.”

“All the more reason to walk. Mules will be going slow. We can
all get out, make it easier for them.”

“Not me,” the portly gent exclaimed. “This hill’s too steep for
me.”

“Same here.”

“Bring your guns along. No good to you left in here,” I said.

The coach stopped and I stepped out, rifle in hand. All the rest
followed except the portly man.

As the coach started forward again, I let the others start
walking, then I started, slowly bringing up the rear. One of the passengers who
said he’d been a sailor for awhile walked beside me.

“Think they’ll hit us here?” he asked, seeing me looking around.

“I’d hit us here,” I replied. “Do you have a bullet in the
chamber?”

“No.”

“Put one in. It may be the difference.”

We reached the top of the rocky stretch without incident. The
coach stopped, but I liked to walk. Looking ahead to the rocky road with small
hills on each side of it, I figured I’d stay outside a spell. He couldn’t go
fast over those rocks and it would throw us around inside like butter in a
churn.

The round rocks were hard to walk on, for unlike a mountain
trail that went around a rock, these were all over and right in the middle of
the way. It was actually harder to walk on them than on a mountain trail. It
was hard to call it a road, for there was little dirt in-between the rocks, and
they tipped and moved as we stepped on them.

The second portly gent climbed inside, but the others looked at
me and waved the driver on.

Suddenly Travers alerted, barking and jumping off the luggage.
The two men jumped out of the coach while the rest of us scattered into the
rocks.

A shot came from up front, where Gage was, and I don’t know if
he shot or was shot. I was busy running to a good-sized boulder I’d picked out
as we walked, when a man rose up from behind it and shot our driver. I shot him
at about the same time, saw him drop and continued up to where he lay. I
grabbed his gun and crouched in the shelter of that rock.

We were in a Mexican standoff. We couldn’t move, but they couldn’t
rob the coach because we were covering each other and it with our rifles.

I crouched there in the heat and thought of Gage. Was he hurt or
dead?

I couldn’t imagine him dead. He brought life and joy to
everybody. Like Mary, he had always livened up wherever he was. He acted sort
of happy-go-lucky, but I realized he had developed a serious side. I wasn’t
ready for him to be dead. Not knowing what else to do, I started praying and
a’watchin for someone to shoot.

Then I heard a snarl and a man’s scream and realized Travers had
snuck up on one of the outlaws and was dealing with him in his own way.

The man stood up, trying to get away and was shot by one of us,
not me. My angle wasn’t right.

This wasn’t turning out the way they’d planned. They were higher
up than us in the rocks, but they couldn’t get down without exposing themselves
to our fire. And evidently they hadn’t planned on retreating, as we could shoot
them any time they came out of cover.

So we waited. And waited.

Then Gage’s voice, clear and loud, brought it to an end. I was
so happy to hear his voice, I felt like dancing. I’d wondered if I would ever
hear it again.

“I have your horses. Throw down your guns and surrender. If we
wait until dark, I’ll send the dog after you. He’ll take you all out, one by
one. I guarantee, you won’t see him coming.”

Then he added for our benefit, “Let them go down to the road
where we can keep an eye on them. There should be five left.”

Four men stood up, hesitantly, and I looked at the dead man at
my feet. Was he number five?

They dropped their guns and scrambled down to the road.

“How many horses do you have?” I called out.

“Seven. And two pack animals. I have one dead here.”

“I got one dead here, and Travers got one, so that should be all
of them.”

We all came out of our cover, slowly. One of the men climbed
over to where Travers had made the outlaw stand up.

“This one’s dead,” he called

“Good,” said Gage.

“They shot our driver. I don’t think they planned to keep anyone
alive. None of them wore masks.”

I was standing on the edge of the group and moved forward as
Travers came back.

“I’ll get their guns,” the heavyset man said, and went to the
spots where the men had been hiding, gathering the rifles left there. I had the
rifle from the man I’d shot.

I’d never shot anyone before and I felt shaky all of a sudden.

The heavyset man stood beside the last rock with all the rifles
in his hand. He stayed there for long enough that I looked more closely to see
what he was doing.  He was waiting for something.

I felt a gun pressed to my side, at the same time someone’s arm
went around my neck.

“Everyone. Drop your weapons.”

It was the portly gent who had told me of the money.

He jabbed his gun into my side, and I let my rifle drop, along
with the one I’d picked up.

“Get off your horse and join them,” the heavyset man who had
gathered the weapons told Gage, swinging his gun to cover Gage. So, he was one
of the outlaws, too. Was there any more of them?

5

I looked at Gage and saw him wink just as he spun his horse
around and start to dismount. I thrust my hand in my pocket and bit the man’s
arm.

He pushed me away. I turned and fired the derringer into the
portly man, knowing that Gage was taking out the man with the rifles.

He was. I could see him as the portly man gasped and dropped the
rifles.

Gage had drawn his pistol as he dismounted, and shot the man
from behind his horse, then spun and covered the outlaws who had started
forward to get the rifles from the passengers.

“Don’t yuh!”

One continued to reach down and Gage shot him.

The other three stepped back, hands in the air.

“Tie them. And tie up our portly friend here,” he ordered.

As the others reclaimed their rifles and one got out some rope,
Gage walked up the slope to where the passenger he’d shot lay.

He called, “Some of you need to carry this fellow down. He’s
still alive.”

They carried him down and dumped him on the ground. None of us
felt too kindly towards men who had intended to kill us.

It was over in just a few minutes.

My legs were shaking and I sat down on the nearest rock. There
had been no time to think about things, just to react. I knew I’d reacted well,
as we were still alive. Which was why the portly gent had apologized to me.

I wasn’t supposed to be on that stage, a woman traveling. I’d
been added at the last minute. He’d probably figured it no big deal to kill
men, but hadn’t wanted to kill a woman. Although the gun jammed up against my
side was none too gentle.

I just sat there and let the men do the cleaning up. The only
ones left alive were the three Gage and I had shot with handguns.

Gage brought in the horses and had the outlaws tie their men
across the pack frames. Then Gage tied each one of them onto their horses and
roped the horses all together in a line.

We put the dead driver inside, along with the three wounded men,
tied up. The rest of us pushed that stage to get it rolling again, then walked
behind it to the top of the rocky place. At that time the men all climbed up on
the top of the stage to ride there.

The English gent grabbed the reins. “I can drive, barely, but
out here I figure they will be used to following the road.”

“I’ll ride one of the extra horses,” I said. “I doubt I can
climb up on top of the stagecoach and maintain any propriety at all.”

Gage brought over a horse for me to ride and helped me on. He
lifted me up on the horse as if I was thistledown, weighing nothing, but if I
didn’t, the heavy traveling dress I wore surely did. He was a strong man.

He adjusted the stirrups, and handed me the reins. “You did a
fine job there, Ruth. Saved our lives.”

I looked down at him. “It was your planning that saved us, Gage.
They didn’t expect me to have a gun in my pocket. But we expected one of them,
not two, to be involved.”

“We’ve lost time, dealing with these scum. I guess the mail might
not make it on time, this trip. Are you all right? I doubt you’ve had to shoot
anyone before.”

“Just a little shaky. Men who try to kill other men usually die
violently. I can’t help that they chose that life.”

We rode along, stirrup to stirrup, talking.

“We make a good team,” Gage said. “We need to work together more
often.”

“Killing outlaws, we do. I don’t know about other things.” 

“We’ll have to see. What kind of job are you going to do in San
Francisco?”

“Mr. Debras hired me to make up his freight bills. He was losing
money because his men weren’t being accurate. Especially on the California
end.”