Realizing their plight, caught between a crossfire, the remaining banditos wheeled their horses and thundered off. They would have another day. Clayton kept firing as did the rifleman on the ridge until the attackers were well out of rifle range, disappearing into a cloud of dust.
Clayton leaned back against the rock and sighed with a deep breath of relief. Marci leaned against him to steady herself. Jack looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks," he almost whispered. She nodded, brushing a wisp of hair back.
"Think they'll come back?" Marci asked.
"Probably," Jack answered. "We'd best get out of here. We're going back."
"What about Andy Fane and my horse?" she said.
"Well I think they've already found us." He glanced up at the ridge where the unknown rifleman had been. Coming down the slope, was a young blond haired man leading a big sorrel stallion.
****
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Inept Bank Robber
Jack and Marci stepped out from their cover and strode toward the young man.
"We're sure glad to see you, Andy," Clayton said.
"I'll just bet you are." The young man grinned broadly. "Jack, Ma'am," He tipped the brim of his hat.
"You stole my horse," Marci accused.
"No ma'am," He answered with a gentlemanly drawl. "I just borrowed him for a while."
"To rob a bank and blame it on my brother."
"My intent wasn't to blame it on anyone," he explained. "You merely had the fastest horse around." He glanced at Jack. "I had my eye on that big black of yours, Jack. Good and fast as he is, Jack, Sunrise did win the race. I needed the fastest horse there was." Then he added, "I made a good haul. Enough to share with both of you. I know you could use it Marci. You know I like you. I didn't mean any harm to you."
She flushed slightly. Jack could see her softening toward the young man. Horse thief or not, it was obvious that Marci Matson was definitely attracted to Andy.
"You're forgetting so soon that Andy saved our bacon just now. And instead of standing around here jawing, I think we all better be getting away from here before those hellions come back." Jack said
"He's right about that ma'am," Andy drawled. We'd better saddle up."
Within minutes, the trio were on their way again. Marci had reclaimed Sunrise and Andy had gracefully accepted being relegated to Marci's roan, although he was a bit uneasy that their route away from the bandit territory was heading them back north,
An hour later, with no further sign of banditos on their trail, the riders rode up beside a clear stream. The water was cold and sparkling. The horses drank their fill and drifted off to leisurely graze at the moist green grass along the stream bank.
After drinking their fill also, the trio filled their canteens and splashed cool water on their faces, necks and arms, relishing the refreshment. Jack, Marci, and Andy sat in the shade of a cottonwood chatting comfortably. Marci again began to smile and laugh with Andy's pleasant gentlemanly gift of gab.
Jack remained silent for a long while and then finally finding a break in the conversation, he said, "I hate to break this up, but we really should be getting back on the trail. The more distance we put between us and the border, the less chance of running into banditos again." He stood up looking down at Andy and Marci.
"I suppose you're right," Andy said rising to his feet and offering his hand to Marci. She accepted his help with a smile. Jack raised his left eyebrow. She hadn't taken his help when he had offered it.
"Where we headed?" Andy asked.
"Back to Promise." Jack said matter of factly.
"Promise?" Andy whirled on him. "We can't go there. The money..." he broke off staring at the muzzle of Clayton's six shooter aimed at his midsection.
"Very slowly, Andy," Jack said calmly, "Raise your hands and keep them up."
As Andy complied, Jack reached out and plucked the pistol from the young man's holster.
"What is this, Jack." Andy queried. "I thought we were friends."
"I know, Andy. I appreciate your offer of sharing the money and I haven't forgot what you did for us, but you see, I have to take you and the money back,"
"Mister Clayton," Marci said with an edge to her voice, as she came to her feet, dusting the seat of her trousers off. "Is a government man. He's the law. Everything by the book. Isn't that right, Mister Clayton." It was back to Mr. Clayton, now. No more Jack.
"Like it or not, Marci," Jack answered. "That is right. I'm sorry."
"Don't be upset with Jack," Andy said resolutely. "We all do what we have to do. I took the risk. I lost." He shrugged.
"Glad you feel that way, son." Jack said. "You can put your arms down now, but don't try anything." He still held his gun level, pointed at Fane's midsection.
"Sure, Jack," he said, slowly lowering his arms
"That the money?" Jack pointed at the draw stringed canvas sack looped over the roan's saddle horn.
Andy nodded.
Jack stepped back toward the sorrel, reached behind him, keeping his eyes on Fane, and retrieved it. He tossed it on the ground at Andy's feet. "Open it and dump it out."
Andy squatted, pulled the draw string and dumped its contents as ordered.
"Look at all that cash, Jack. Shame it has to go back." Andy sighed.
Jack stepped around and squatted to examine the money. He lifted a bundle to eye level so he could also keep an eye on Fane. His gun still leveled.
Clayton's brows pulled together with consternation. What the hell? He thought. He dropped the bundle and picked up another. Looked at one side, then the other. Then he tossed it back into the pile as he stood up. "Looks like you really blew it this time, Andy," he said; a wry half grin slipping from the side of his mouth.
"What?" Andy looked puzzled.
"You did all this for nothing. You've been suckered. It's counterfeit."
"Counterfeit?" Marci and Andy exclaimed simultaneously and squatted before the pile of money, fingering the bundles.
"But, I stole this from the bank! It can't be counterfeit! The money was raised for the irrigation project. It has to be good!"
"I'm sure good money was collected," Jack said flatly. "Obviously, it's been replaced with this counterfeit."
"But who would...?" Marci started, but was interrupted by the sound of pounding hooves on the other side of the rise behind them.
All three of them turned their attention at the same time as six riders crested the top of the hill, reined up momentarily, then drawing their guns, they urged their mounts slowly down the slope. They were men from town. A posse, perhaps. Rod Blake and Matt McCall seemed to be the leaders. The sheriff was not with them.
****
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Posse of Outlaws
"I see you got him and the money," Blake said as the riders pulled up in a semi-circle around Clayton and his companions. He glanced at Marci. "What's she doing here? She in on it?"
"No," Jack answered. "She helped me trail this young man. He stole her horse."
"I see," Blake said. Then to McCall, "Matt, gather up the cash."
Clayton didn't like the way Blake's pistol seemed to be covering all three of them.
McCall hopped from the saddle, sprinted to the open sack and started stuffing the bundles in.
"Won't do much good," Jack said. "It's worthless."
McCall froze. His eyes darted back and forth, then to Clayton. "It's counterfeit," Jack added; a slight smirk on his face.
McCall turned his attention back to the bundle in his hand. Examined it and tossed it carelessly to the ground. "Damn!" He oathed and clawed at the other bundles. "He's right!" McCall exclaimed, looking up at Blake, his face dark and grim with anger. "You know what that means, Blake?"
The voice, Jack thought. When he was in the cabin, he had heard a familiar voice. Now he knew that voice belonged to Matt McCall. What had he been doing with Beldon's men? After all, he was head of the irrigation project and Beldon was against it.
"Yes, I do," Blake answered grimly. "You'd better get back to town and make sure that money goes nowhere. I'll take care of things here."
McCall arose and started for his horse.
"Just a minute!" Clayton ordered, swinging the muzzle of his pistol toward McCall. "Freeze! What goes on here?"
McCall paused momentarily in mid stride. "Pay him no heed, Matt," Blake interjected sharply. Then to Clayton, "I suggest it's you Mister Clayton, who should freeze." The hammer of his pistol clicked back and the muzzle pointed straight at Clayton's chest. The four other riders followed suit.
The government man's eyes blazed with anger. "Go ahead. Shoot me if you want to, but your man McCall is a dead man."
"I don't think so, Mister G-Man. Drop your gun or your friends are dead."
Jack kept his pistol on McCall, said nothing.
"What's it going to be, Clayton.? My man or your friends?" He waited.
A moment of grim thought and Jack resigned himself to defeat. He released the hammer of his pistol slowly, then, tossed the weapon to the ground.
"Now, that's being smart," Blake chided. Then, "Matt, get going!"
McCall sprinted to his horse, swung into the saddle, twisted his mount's neck, spurred him into a tight turn and galloped back up the slope to disappear over the crest of the hill.
"So, what gives?" Clayton asked. "I thought you were the posse. Where's Sheriff Hackett?"
"Well, it seems," Blake chuckled. "That he rode up to the dam last night to prevent Hank Beldon from shooting you and got shot himself. Terrible thing." He shrugged. "Got the ranchers all worked up. They want to drive Hank Beldon out once and for all. When I get back we're going to have a meeting of all the ranchers, then we are going after him."
"I suppose, you've been setting Beldon up as the bad guy all along. Branding your own cattle with Beldon's brand and running them onto his spread so everyone would think Beldon was behind the rustling in these parts."
"You are smart, G-Man. I'll give you that. Beldon's been top dog around here for a long time and made a lot of enemies. I knew if I could get him out of the way, I could get his spread. Fortunately, the old man's bitterness worked against him. When he built that dam and shut off the valley's water he set himself up good. It gave me the opportunity to make some cash as well as get him out of the way."
"So you drummed up a phony irrigation project with a phony engineer. You got the ranchers to contribute money and brought in more with a big money fund raiser. I suspect that if Andy had not robbed the bank, there would have been a robbery shortly anyways. You would have had the cash, the irrigation project would have failed and the irate ranchers would be after Beldon with a vengeance."
"Right you are, Clayton. Then you came along and McCall recognized you as a federal agent."
"And you decided to set up Beldon against a government man here to shut his dam down. Your men were to kill me and blame it on Beldon. But I got away and when the sheriff showed up, there was no body and you needed another explanation, so you killed him and blamed it on Beldon."
"Right again! With a mind like yours, you should have been in business for yourself. You could have fleeced those suckers royally."
"I'm afraid I have too much respect for the suckers, as you call them. I call them decent people. I have no respect for the likes of you. Besides, it looks to me like you are the real sucker here." Clayton chuckled slightly but his tone was cold and bitter.
"You mean because of the double cross?"
Jack nodded.
"Well, Matt will take care of that. No wimpy schmuck banker is going to get away with trying to outwit me. He'll be sorry."
"I'm sure he will," Jack agreed grimly.
"As you will too, Mister Clayton." Blake continued smiling as he eared back the hammer of his pistol until it clicked to full cock. "A pity though, I really enjoyed our little repartee, but I've got to get this over so I can get back to business." His knuckle whitened as he squeezed the trigger, taking up the slack. Then thunder roared as the sound of a firing weapon echoed across the valley. Clayton's body stiffened in expectation of the deadly bullet ripping through him, but it did not happen. Rod Blake whirled in his saddle, swinging his pistol to the right and firing at a new foe, as the rider next to him fell from the saddle, blood gushing from a huge gaping hole in his back.
****
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Return of the Bandits
Pandemonium broke loose. Horses reared and thrashed about amid a hailstorm of bullets as several riders wearing broad brimmed sombreros and bandoliers across their chests came thundering over the ridge with blazing guns. The remaining banditos had returned with a vengeance.
Blake and his men fought to bring their mounts under control and fired back at the oncoming attackers. One of the banditos caught a slug and fell from the saddle. Then another of Blake's men fell. "Let's get the hell out of here," Blake shouted as he whirled his mount around. He fired again and another bandit fell. He raked his sharp spurs savagely across his horse's flanks and whipped him into a gallop. His remaining two men followed suit and rode after him. One slumped in the saddle as a bullet picked the hat off his head and left a bleeding gash alongside of his head just above the right ear.
Meanwhile, Jack, Marci and Andy, gathering their wits about them and taking advantage of the surprise attack, had turned and began to run across the creek into a stand of cottonwoods. .
"This way!" Jack shouted as he led his companions across the stream. Bullets plopped into the water around their heels as they ran, Andy holding back a step behind Marci to shield her.
They found a large cottonwood on the other side of the creek and dived to prone positions on the mossy earth behind it. Bark flew from the tree trunk as bullets slammed into it.
Blake and his two remaining riders fired wildly behind them as they fled from the bandits. The banditos returned fire and rode after them a short distance before reining up and letting them go. They turned their mounts and rode slowly back toward the stream to get the three people who had been left on foot and without weapons.
Blake and his men punished their horses brutally, putting as much distance between them and the banditos as possible. They had passed through a narrow canyon and ridden the length of a wide valley before they slowed their mounts to a walk, having satisfied themselves that the banditos were no longer following them. "You hurt bad, Shorty?" Blake asked the rider with the blood covered head.
"Naw. Just a crease, boss. Head hurts like blazes though. Sounds like the fourth of July between my ears."
"That's not your head. We hear it too. That's gunfire back there. They must have gone after Clayton and the others. Maybe they've forgotten about us," Blake said. "Hopefully they'll take care of that pesky government man once and for all." He chuckled. "Listen." A barrage of gunfire opened up and maintained a steady stream of rapid firing until it all seemed to be just one endless roar of thunder. Then, it ceased with a suddenness, and nothing but silence could be heard.
The three men listened for a minute. The silence continued. "Think the banditos got them?" Shorty asked.
"I sincerely hope so," Blake smiled with self satisfaction. Then a darkness crept into his eyes as a thought occurred to him. "Clayton's a tough one though. If anyone could get himself out of a jam like that, he probably could." He mused almost to himself.
"I've got to get back to the ranch and meet with the ranchers, but I can't take a chance that Clayton won't show up. I've got to be certain those banditos got him." He glared at his men. "Phil," he said turning to his other companion. "I want you and Shorty to go back and check."
"G.. .go back?" Phil stammered, his eyes wide above his black stubbled cheeks. "Y.. .you gotta be kidding."
"You can't send us back there," Shorty protested. 'Th..those bandits..."
"They'll probably be gone by the time you get back there. Just be careful and keep an eye out. After you've seen the dead bodies, come on back. I'm heading back to the ranch, now. You can catch up.
"
Shorty and Phil glanced at each other warily.
"Come on! Do as I say!" Blake ordered sliding his pistol from its holster. "Or I'll shoot you both myself!"
The two henchmen stared at the gaping muzzle. Then without a word, they reined their horses around and kicked them into a gallop back the way they came. Blake laughed and sheathed his weapon, then turned his horse and rode on.
Phil and Shorty continued a fast pace until they exited the valley and turned into the narrow canyon. Here they pulled up, looked back and satisfied themselves that they were no longer in Blake's view. "I don't want to do this, Shorty," Phil said.
"Neither do I,"
"You know, Shorty," Phil said. "It don't make no sense, us risking our necks when those hellions are probably dead anyways. You heard all that shooting."
"Yeah and those three didn't have no guns anyhow. They sure didn't do no shooting. They gotta be dead." Shorty agreed.
"Sure, there's no sense us going back there. What do you say, we just sit here a bit? Maybe have a smoke. Just long enough for the boss to think we went all the way back."
"Yeah, that'll work. We tell him that Clayton and the others are dead, which of course they are and he'll never know we didn't go back."
They laughed with relief and self satisfaction
From their hiding place in the trees, Jack, Andy, and Marci could see the banditos returning from driving Blake and his men off. "Here they come," Andy growled angrily, "and we're unarmed. What'11 we do now?"
Marci cringed against the bole of the tree.
"This!" Jack answered, putting two fingers between his teeth and let out a shrill whistle.
Regret, on the other side of the stream tossed his mighty head in the air and whinnied, then plunged into the stream, heeding his master's call. The highly polished stock of Clayton's rifle in the saddle boot gleamed in the late afternoon sun.
Marci, realizing that the big black was bringing a weapon, followed suit and let out another shrill whistle that brought the big sorrel stallion with her rifle, at a run behind Regret.
The banditos had just entered the stream when the two horses came around behind the trees. Swiftly, Jack and Andy pulled the Winchesters from the saddle boots and stepped out from behind the trees, levering the weapons as fast as possible, spraying lead at the oncoming bandits.