Jack Clayton opened his eyes slowly. He saw only the darkness of the night at first. Then, gradually, he saw the faint light of the overhead moon. Then its brilliance began to seep into his brain and he could see he was lying half in and half out of the river. Realizing where he was and that he was still alive, he rolled over on to his back, looking up at the sky above. He forced a smile of appreciation as he gazed up at the big black stallion Regret, who had been standing over him and nuzzling his face.
"Good to see you, old son," Clayton murmured. “I don't know how you got here, but I sure am glad to see you right now."
Regret whickered and stepped to the side of his master. Jack could reach the stirrup with his hand now. He grasped it and pulled himself up until he was almost erect, leaning against the big horse. He rested a moment, gathering the strength in his legs and gazing up at the dam which was now several hundred yards upstream. All seemed quiet. There was a faint glow in the sky from the dying flames of the burning shack beyond the dam.
Jack had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious. He was sure that Ryker and Carver would be looking for him or his body. If he had been lying here a long time, chances were that the two gunmen would be close by now. With Regret here to help him, the best thing for him to do was to ride out as quickly as possible.
After a few moments of rest, Jack felt his strength begin to return. He checked his saddle bag and found his spare six shooters, which he quickly loaded and thrust it into his holsters. Then he climbed aboard the great stallion and rode off toward town.
The moon was high indicating the lateness of the night as Jack Clayton approached the city limits of Promise. He had ridden easy, staying off the main trails to avoid being seen. In the dark he would be hard to trail, so Jack had taken advantage of it and found a spot to rest for a while and recuperate from his early ordeal. He was feeling pretty good now as he rode into town. It had been a long day and now it was over.
Or was it? The sound of blasting powder broke the stillness of the night. Regret skittered to a halt, stamping about in place as Clayton pulled the reins up to bring him under control. Glancing about, Jack could see lights going on in windows across town. People were dashing out of doors in various stages of dress and undress. He heard the murmur of voices and something about the bank.
Jack touched his heels to Regret's sides and sent him forward at a lope and rode into the middle of town, just in time to see Abner Blodgett in night shirt and night cap fire a big double barreled shotgun at a fleeing rider on a big golden stallion.
Sunrise! Clayton thought as he brought Regret to a sliding halt in front of the outraged banker. "He....he's robbed my bank," Blodgett blustered.
"Get the sheriff and a posse," Jack shouted. "Meanwhile, I'm going after him.!" He sent Regret off down Main Street at a gallop. Ted Matson was up to it again and had just robbed another bank. Jack wasn't going to let him get away with it again.
"But...but...but..."Abner stuttered, standing in the middle of the street watching Clayton disappear into the darkness. "The., the sheriff isn't here." He said meekly talking to himself.
Sunrise was a fast horse. Perfect for use in hold ups and fast getaways. Perhaps, even faster than Regret. He had already disappeared beyond the horizon by the time Jack crossed the city line.
Clayton urged the gallant horse onward at full speed down the trail. As long as they stayed on the main trail and with the aid of moonlight, it would be safe to travel at this speed. But, if they should have to leave the trail, night travel would not be safe. A chuck hole or gopher hole unseen in the dark could cripple a horse if he were to step in one.
For an hour and a half the pursuit continued along the trail with Jack occasionally stopping to rest Regret. It was at one of these stops, that he noticed the shadow of a rider on his back trail as the rider crested the horizon.
One rider? No posse? Who would come alone? Or was Jack, himself being followed?
With each stop, he noticed the rider was still there. Looking further back along the back trail, he noted there was no posse behind this rider.
Clayton kept on the trail of his quarry for another hour. The sky was starting to gray as dawn approached. Other than tracks, he had seen no sign of the bank robber and Sunrise. Jack decided that Sunrise probably was faster than Regret after all. But he would plod onward. He would run him down eventually.
Even with dawn approaching, it was still an hour or so away when Jack found where his quarry had left the trail. It was still too dark to travel fast across country, so Jack dismounted and led Regret by the reins. It would be slow going this way, but he would be able to detect any holes or hazards for the horse. Besides, Regret needed the rest. Care for his horse always came first. Most outlaws did not adhere to this rule and many times, it had been their downfall.
The rider on his trail was still back there and was gaining on him now that he was afoot. Oh well, he thought. He wasn't going to make much headway like this anyways, so why not wait for whoever it was and rest a little. He found a stand of trees and brush and pulled Regret into the coverage of the foliage. There was grass in here and Jack ground hitched the black, letting him graze while he settled himself down against the trunk of a cottonwood and half dozed, waiting and listening for the approaching rider.
The sky was graying more now as Jack suddenly jerked his head upward out of his doze at the sound of the steady clip clop of hoofs, the creak of saddle leather and the chink of trappings. He could see the shadow of the horse and rider clearly now only about twenty yards away. There was something familiar about the rider.
He half grinned to himself and slid his back up the tree trunk as he stood up.
The rider was closer now, within a few yards. He was sure now that he recognized the rider. He stepped out of the shadows, his gun drawn. "Night travel, Miss Matson?" he said sardonically, flashing his gun barrel. "How about you pull up there and let's have a talk."
"Oh, it's you," she said with surprise.
"You didn't know you were following me?"
"No," She said. "I thought you were Andy Fane." Then nodding toward Clayton's pistol. "You don't need that. It makes me nervous."
Jack holstered his weapon. "Fane? Last time I saw him, he was with you."
"Yeah. I took your advice and hired a gun. Fane's. I didn't know he only wanted to steal my horse."
"Sunrise?"
"Yes, Sunrise. He robbed the bank with my horse." She was indignant.
Wasn't the first bank job for Sunrise, Jack thought.
"Then it wasn't ," His words trailed off.
"Ted?" She finished. "That's what you think and what everyone else will think if they find out about those other jobs. No, Ted's hiding out at the ranch. With you and Blackie Darrow after him, he's scared. He finally told me what he's been up to. He claims he was doing it to get money for the ranch, but I know he's just wild. I can't let Ma know what he's done."
"I'm sure she already does," Jack said. "Maybe not specifically, but a mother usually knows her own."
"You're probably right," she sighed. Then, with irritation. "While we're here gabbing Fane's getting farther away. Don't you think we should get after him?"
Jack nodded. Persistant cuss, he thought. "Guess you're right at that."
****
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dangerous Trails
The morning sun crested the distant mountains, with shimmering streams of gold pouring out between the peaks. Morning mist rose from the dew sparkled grass and drifted around their horses' hooves. The two riders rode steadily onward, first at a walk and later into a cantor as conditions presented themselves. By mid-morning Jack and Marci were pushing their mounts to their limits. They still had not seen Sunrise and his rider, but the tracks were fresher. Obviously they were closing the gap. Jack hoped that Fane had become sure of himself and had slowed his pace or, thinking that he was relatively safe, he had finally stopped to rest. Far behind them along their back trail Jack noticed dust clouds bey
ond the distant horizon. Riders! Several of them. Perhaps the sheriff and his posse.
By noon, Clayton spotted a faint wisp of smoke beyond a distant rise up ahead. They rode slowly toward the top of the rise and dismounted just before reaching the crest.
Bending low, Jack and Marci crept to the top of the ridge; then flattened themselves out in the grass as they peered into the arroyo below, Jack holding his gun at the ready.
The scene before them was far from what they had expected. In the arroyo below the remnants of a burned Conestoga wagon lying on its sides was strewn about, the dying embers of its burning still smoldering in the heat of the day. There were no signs of life, not even the horses, but there were plenty of tracks attesting to the fact that a large party of riders had recently churned up the sod throughout the area. "Banditos," Jack muttered almost to himself. "What...?" Marci Started.
"I knew I should have sent you back home. We're too close to the border here. Border Banditos ride roughshod around here. They raid, loot and kill. No one is safe here near the border. They are a vicious lot."
"I know," Marcy said. "I've heard about the Banditos. I guess I didn't realize we had come this far south." Then she said. "Do you suppose there's anyone down there?" She indicated the ruins.
"We'll go down and check, but keep your eyes open. If we see any trace of the bandits, just follow my lead," Jack said, pushing himself to his feet and reaching down to help Marci up. As expected, she shook him off. She didn't need his help.
Slowly, they led their mounts down the incline and approached the smoldering debris. As expected, there were no survivors, not even bodies. Perhaps the banditos had kidnapped the travelers, which was often the case with women and children, who could be sold into slavery, but not with men. They were usually killed outright and their bodies left to the vermin and elements.
"Jack," Marci halted him. "Look over there. Beneath that tree. Looks like graves. Freshly dug. Three of them"
"You're right," Clayton said, changing direction and leading Regret toward the graves. "Banditos don't usually bury their victims."
As he stepped close to the fresh mounds of earth, he noticed that there were two full size graves and a much smaller one. The travelers had probably been a man and woman and a child. What they were doing in this God forsaken country was a mystery to him. Either they had been given bad advice about trekking through this area or they had been foolish and ignored any warnings. At any rate, it was too late now. They had reached their final destination forever.
"Oh, Jack," Marci said. "One of them was just a child. How could anyone do such a thing?" She shuddered.
"They are brutal animals, Marci. They don't care who they kill."
"But why did they bury them?"
"I don't think they did," Jack said. "Look at these tracks. You can see where several horses have churned up the sod. Looks like about nine or ten riders attacked the wagon, but look here. Fresher tracks from another horse have cut over the top of them. This horse lingered about for awhile and then the tracks lead off further south. Someone was here after the attack."
"But, Jack," Marci exclaimed. "Those tracks.”
"Yes," Jack finished. "They have the star markings. Sunrise was here."
"You think Andy Fane buried these people?"
"Appears so," Clayton mused.
"But why?" Marci asked. "Why would he take the time? Why risk letting you catch up to him? Why risk getting caught by the bandits, himself?"
"I think you know the answer to that, yourself," Jack said flatly, a wry half grin out of the corner of his mouth."
She flushed, "I suppose so." She was silent for a moment; then said, "What now?
Clayton glanced toward the sorrel's trail. "We keep on going. Even if we don't catch him, we had better not stay around here. The banditos may still be around. Saddle up and keep your eyes peeled.”
****
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Banditos
Back on the bank robber's trail, the duo pushed their mounts at a fairly steady lope, hoping to cover miles swiftly without wearing their horses out too much. The big sorrel's tracks were fresh and clear allowing them to follow at a fairly rapid pace. Occasionally, they would stop and walk the horses for a while, always scanning the countryside and back trail, ever wary of bandits.
They had been on the trail for nearly an hour and a half when their dreaded fears were realized. Off to their right stood a low butte and on the flatness of its table, there silhouetted against the clear blue of the hot cloudless sky, were the dark shapes of several riders. Although Jack and Marci could not see them plainly, they could make out the shapes of the large wide brimmed sombreros with pointed crowns that were customarily worn by banditos.
"Jack, do you think they see us?" Marci gasped.
"Oh they see us all right. They've probably been tracking us for some time now."
"Oh, Jack," Marci pleaded. "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to get the hell out of here!" He jerked the reins and twisted the big black's neck to the left, dug his heels into Regret's ribs, slapped him with the loose ends of his reins and sent the stallion at a gallop in the opposite direction from the butte and away from Andy Fane's trail. Marci whipped her mount around and galloped after him.
The riders on the butte turned their horses and disappeared below the horizon, only to reappear, minutes later, on the plain below the butte after descending. With hoots and yells, the banditos sped off after the two retreating riders, a large cloud of dust billowing up around the thundering hooves.
Clayton leaned back in the saddle, looking over his shoulder. He could see the savage horde bearing down on them, although still out of rifle range. He whipped Regret harder and pounded his heels against the gallant black's flanks, pushing him onward at full speed. Half turning in the saddle, he could see Marci falling behind, her mount lathering profusely and beginning to stagger from the prolonged exertion. As good a horse as she was riding, this mount could never equal Regret for stamina and speed. Clayton pulled back on the reins momentarily, slowing his powerful steed and letting Marci catch up.
Meanwhile the banditos with fresher horses were gaining behind them. Jack could now see their swarthy complexions and the criss-crossed ammunition belts across their sloven chests. They began to fire and bullets zipped through the air around the fleeing riders' heads.
"We can't outrun them!" Jack shouted to Marci. "We'll have to hole up and make a stand of it! Quick into those rocks up ahead! Follow me!" He urged Regret forward once again at a full gallop. More firing came from behind. More lead filled the air like buzzing bees around them. There was no time, nor use to fire back. Just ride as fast as possible for cover.
Clayton rode in behind a large boulder which was high enough to protect himself and Regret. He leaped to the ground, pulling his Winchester from the rifle boot as he went and dropped to one knee, bracing the rifle barrel against the rock and fired rapidly; levering round after round into the chamber and sending a hail of bullets at the approaching bandits. Marci was still in the open, heading for the rocky terrain and pushing her faltering mount to his limits. She swung wide out of Clayton's line of fire so she wouldn't hamper his effectiveness.
The banditos now close behind her, suddenly drew their horses up sharply as Clayton's bullets ripped into two of the riders, pitching them backwards out of their saddles. Horses reared and snorted in the confusion. Banditos fired from the backs of the reeling horses without benefit of aim.
Marci reached the rocks and rode in behind the boulder where Clayton was laying down his fire power, and dismounted, pulling her own rifle from the saddle boot and running to Jack's side. Clayton still firing, dropped another bandito from the saddle. "Stay back!" Jack shouted and pushed Marci back against the backside of the boulder as returning fire from the bandits, spanged against the rock, sending stone chips flying in all directions and bullets ricocheting off the hard surface. Jack jerked back out of the way himself. Then leaned back and lev
ered another round. He fired twice. One bandit fell. He fired again, but this time there was only an empty click. His rifle was empty. He ducked back out the way as a new hail of bullets pounded into the boulder.
"Give me your rifle!" Clayton shouted to Marci. "And reload this one!" He added, shoving the Winchester at her. He tried to return to his firing position with Marci's rifle, but the hail of flying lead projectiles was too great. He cringed back for cover.
The banditos were closer now, their guns thundering, belching flame as their mounts thundered forward, the riders spreading out attacking Clayton's and Marci Matson's fortress in a broad semi-circle formation. Bullets thunked all around them and whizzed over their heads. Clayton and Marci pressed back, their backs flat against the rock. They could see the savage faces, the dark menacing eyes and if it weren't for the fear and the smell of gunsmoke, they surely would have smelled the filthy dirty bodies of their attackers.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a rider approach from the right flank of the boulder. The rider swung his rifle and fired. Jack dodged sideways and fired back. The bandit's arms flew upward and his own rifle spun skyward as the man fell backward from his saddle.
"Jack!" Marci shouted. "To the left!" Clayton whirled. Fired instinctively. Marci had ducked down and Clayton fired across her back, at the rider behind him. The bandit dropped his pistol and clutched his chest, reining his horse away in retreat.
Before Jack could recover and turn back to the attacking band, rapid rifle fire echoed across the barren expanses of the wasteland. He could hear the shouts and the cursing as the banditos realized they had another force to reckon with.
Clayton returned to his firing position, looking out around the rock. The banditos had temporarily become distracted as fire power from the ridge off to their right caught their attention. Without questioning where this unseen help was coming from, Clayton fired again and again into the melee of bandits. He felled one rider and two more fell from the rifle on the ridge.