.44 Caliber Man (22 page)

‘
Look at that wall!’ Matteo growled. ‘They couldn’t go up
there. Either they went out of the entrance, or up this slope. Come
on. We’ll cut for sign out in front of the entrance. If we don’t
find any, we’ll get on top and see if they’re up there.’

Enough of the
conversation had reached Jeanie’s ears for her to tell Colin
something of the quartet’s comments and plans. Then they watched
Matteo lead the Tejas from the canyon and begin a careful scrutiny
of the ground.

‘
I wish ’em luck, all bad,’ Jeanie grinned as the men moved out
of sight beyond the other side. ‘We slickered ’em good, Colin
boy.’

‘
My kinsman did much the same to the Hanoverians at the Pass of
Ballater,’ Colin replied. ‘Only the Black Colonel took his horse
with him.’

‘
Not up a wall like we climbed, even if he is your kin,’ Jeanie
objected.

‘
Maybe not,’ the Scot smiled, then became sober again. ‘I’m
thinking it’d not be safe to start walking back just
yet.’

‘
Let’s find some place comfy to hide up in,’ Jeanie suggested.
‘The more we know about what they’re figuring, the safer it’ll
be.’

Finding a
hollow a short way from the edge, Colin and Jeanie took cover in
it. For a time nothing happened, then they saw the four men riding
towards the top at the other side of the canyon. Once more Matteo
and the Tejas began their search for signs, covering the ground
with a disconcerting, painstaking thoroughness.

‘
I’d say they’re certain we didn’t leave the canyon by the
entrance,’ Colin whispered.

‘
Yeah,’ Jeanie hissed back. ‘And when they don’t find our sign
up there, they’re sure going to start thinking about this side. If
they come round, they’ll easy cut our trail and then we’ve got a
fight on our hands.’

At first Jeanie
and Colin thought that they would be in luck. Although the
searchers were clearly puzzled by the lack of tracks, they seemed
disinclined to accept the obvious answer. A heated debate took
place, but enough of the words failed to reach Jeanie to prevent
her knowing what was said. From what she could tell by the gestures
and actions of the quartet, opinions were sharply divided on how
the couple had escaped. Matteo appeared to favor making another
examination of the land in front of the canyon, being at least
partially supported by the two lance-carrying Tejas. However the
man with the rifle objected and kept pointing to the other side.
Finally he turned his horse and started to ride purposefully
towards the blind end of the canyon. First the other Tejas, then
Matteo followed. Catching up to the two men, the Mexican seemed to
be continuing his arguments. While they talked, their companion
drew steadily ahead of them.

‘
That does it,’ Jeanie breathed. ‘If we show ourselves, we’ll
be seen and they’ll ride us down. Keep hid until they get into
shooting range. Let ’em ride by if you can, then come up
shooting.’

‘
I’ll do that,’ Colin agreed, knowing the situation did not
call for fair play or sporting tactics. It would be kill or be
killed, with Jeanie’s life at stake as well as his own. ‘Keep down
and leave the fighting to me.’

‘
You’d best get those pipes unhitched,’ Jeanie suggested as he
drew and cocked the Dragoon. ‘They might slip and tangle your
arms.’

Deciding that
the girl gave good advice, and aware of the need for complete
freedom of movement, Colin began to slide the bagpipes’ strap from
over his shoulder. Although he moved with care, he allowed the
pipes to show briefly above the rim of the hollow. For a moment the
ribbons fluttered in the air and then were withdrawn without him
realizing his mistake. He learned about it soon enough.

Coming around
the edge of the canyon in the lead of his companions, Eats Anything
scanned the country about him with extra care. There had been
doubts cast about the possibility of their victims being on the
left side, despite the lack of tracks elsewhere. Eager to prove his
reputation as a reader of sign, he wanted to locate the missing
couple and prove that he had missed nothing down below. A slight
movement jerked his attention to a hollow some fifty yards ahead.
Something stirred in it, a flickering wave of colors unnatural to
the surroundings. Whipping up his long-barreled Mississippi rifle,
Eats Anything took aim and fired.

When the bullet
passed close above his head and kicked up dirt at the rear of the
hollow, Colin knew their position had been discovered. Gripping the
Dragoon in both hands, he wriggled up the side until he could rest
his elbows on the level ground. That gave him a solid base from
which to take aim and he proceeded to make the most of it.

Screeching out
a triumphant war-yell. Eats Anything sent his horse bounding
forward. He died before the animal had taken four strides.
Carefully Colin sighted the Dragoon, knowing he had but five shots
and wanting to make them all count. Pressing the trigger, he sent a
bullet into the Indian’s chest. Even as Eats Anything fell from the
horse, Colin saw the other Indians coming to the attack.

Wooden Head
dropped the point of his lance and sent his horse into a charging
gallop. Despite carrying one, Tommy Dog did not share the Comanche
and other horse-Indians’ reverence for the lance. He regarded it as
an inadequate kind of weapon when matched against a firearm. So he
did not follow his companion’s example. Instead he dropped his
lance and reached over to snatch Matteo’s Dragoon from its holster.
Before the Mexican could prevent the theft, Dog headed in the
direction of the hollow and started to shoot as if the revolver
held sixty rather than six bullets in its cylinder.

Flame spurted
from the Dragoon in Colin’s hands and Wooden Head’s horse began to
fall. With an Indian’s skill, the Tejas quit the dying animal’s
back and lit down on his feet. Still holding the lance, he watched
Dog thunder by and began to run towards the hollow.

Firing his
third shot, Colin saw Dog flinch but knew he had made a near miss.
Nor did the fourth have better effect. Nearer tore Dog, the
borrowed Dragoon spitting in his hand. Unfamiliar with the revolver
and firing from the back of his horse, the man still came close to
achieving his desires. Sliced by a bullet, the upper part of the
feather in Colin’s bonnet fell away. He heard the ‘splat’ as lead
hummed by his left ear. Still he held his fire, intending to make a
hit with the last load in the Dragoon.

Becoming aware
of the danger, Dog fetched his horse to a sliding, turning halt. As
the horse stopped, he tried to line the revolver down at the Scot.
Only Colin was already laying his sights and shot first. Once more
smoke swirled and the heavy old gun bucked to the recoil. A hole
appeared between Dog’s eyes and he pitched back over the far side
of his horse. In falling, his lifeless hand tightened on the gun’s
butt and sent the last bullet it held plowing into the ground.

Immediately
after the shooting, Colin hurled himself out of the hollow with the
intention of catching Dog’s horse. However the animal went plunging
away and Colin saw Wooden Head rushing in his direction. The sight
of the lowered lance warned Colin that he held an empty gun and had
need to defend himself. All the fighting spirit of his Highland
blood raced wildly at the thought. Back over the centuries, the
Farquharsons had been warriors second to none. The instincts of
generations guided him in how he must act, backed by an even more
primeval urge of the male to protect its mate. No longer was Colin
the polite, well-bred young sportsman, but a wild Highlander of the
kind which gave Britain some of its finest, bravest soldiers.

‘
Cam na cuimhne!’ Colin roared, bursting into full view of the
charging Indian.

Around swung
Colin’s left arm, hurling the empty revolver at his attacker’s
face. Ducking to avoid the flying missile, Wooden Head staggered
slightly. He was given no time to recover his balance. After
leaving the Colt’s butt, Colin’s right hand flashed across to slip
the dirk from its sheath. Following up in the path of the gun, he
slapped the lance aside with his left hand.

‘
Cam na cuimhne!’

Again the
slogan of the Clan Farquharson rang through the Texas air. The
eleven-inch long, tapering, double-edged blade rose in an upwards
jab under the deflected war lance. Wooden Head croaked in agony as
the needle-like spear point of the dirk spiked into his lower body.
Instinct guided Colin’s actions without the need for conscious
thought. After half the blade had sunk into the Tejas’ belly, the
Scot tore it sideways to rip through the flesh until it came
free.

Stepping aside,
Colin let the stricken man blunder by him. The lance fell from
Wooden Head’s hands as he clutched at the hideous tear that laid
open his stomach. Jeanie screamed as she saw the Indian lurch into
view on the lip of the hollow. Then his legs buckled under him and
he crashed downwards. Staring with horror-filled eyes, the girl
jumped away from the gory body and began to back up the other
slope.

Thundering
hooves warned Colin that the danger was not yet over. In fact, he
knew that he faced the most dangerous enemy of all. Not having seen
the theft of Matteo’s revolver, he expected to feel lead crash into
him at any moment.

In addition to
the loss of the revolver, Matteo no longer had a rifle. The Tejas
had insisted that he left his Spencer with Cijar to add fire-power
during the attack. Not that the bandido felt unduly concerned when
he saw that the Scot held a revolver. Now that was empty and
discarded. While the man in the skirt showed some skill in the use
of a knife, Matteo carried an even more deadly edged weapon on his
belt.

Snatching out
the machete, Matteo guided his horse at Colin. Just as it seemed
that Colin would be ridden down, he flung himself to the left
before the horse and let it go by. Nor could Matteo bring the
machete around in passing. Deftly the bandido reined his mount in a
circle at the lip of the hollow and directed it into the attack
again. Once more Colin stood his ground until the horse almost
reached him before dodging in front of it and clear. Matteo’s teeth
drew back in a tight grin as he circled around for another attempt.
No matter how he dressed, the man in the kilt was no fool or
coward.

Reaching the
top of the hollow, Jeanie watched the strange duel. Much as she
wanted to help, she saw no way of doing so. To shout advice would
distract Colin at a time when he needed all his wits about him. Nor
could she think of anything to say. In fact, she considered that
Colin was handling himself very well.

Matteo drove
his horse forward for the third time. Instead of making it go at
top speed, he kept its pace down. When the Scot darted clear,
Matteo set his quickly devised plan into action. Throwing back his
weight, he used the reins and a blow from the flat side of the
machete’s blade to twirl the horse around on its hind legs. Then he
gave a yell, slammed his heels against the horse’s ribs and caused
it to leap in Colin’s direction.

Taken by
surprise, the Scot had no time to make a careful evasion. Instead
he threw himself sideways hurriedly. Although the horse missed him,
Colin felt his foot catch against a tuft of grass and he tripped.
Throwing his left hand down as he fell, he broke his landing impact
and did not sprawl at full length on the ground. However he found
himself in a most dangerous position. There would be no chance of
regaining his feet, for the bandido had already leapt to the
ground. Throwing his left leg to the rear, Colin knelt on it.

Rushing up,
Matteo launched a slash around designed to slice the Scot’s head
almost from his body. Still on his left knee, Colin brought up his
right arm and interposed the dirk between himself and the
down-lashing machete. Steel clashed on steel as the heavy blade of
the machete met the dirk. Made of the finest steel available in
Scotland, the long knife took and held the force of the impact.
Slipping down, the machete’s progress was halted by the haunches of
the dirk’s hilt. Instead of the quillon guard carried by most
American fighting knives, the dirk had swollen haunches to protect
its user’s hand. How well they served showed when the sharp blade
of the machete was prevented from descending.

Grimly Colin
forced up at the machete and Matteo strained in an attempt to push
the dirk down. Jeanie started to run around the hollow, meaning to
throw herself on to the bandido’s back and give Colin a chance to
escape. Before she arrived, Colin achieved his own salvation. Using
Matteo’s downwards force as an aid to retaining his balance, Colin
reached across to his right stocking top with his left hand.
Gripping the hilt of the sgian-dubh, he drew it from its sheath.
The short knife was no toy, or decorative miniature of the dirk,
but a deadly weapon. Ending in a spear point, the blade carried an
edge as sharp as a barber’s razor and had been designed to be
functional. Holding the sgian-dubh with the blade below the heel of
the hand, Colin chopped upwards. His aim was true and the knife bit
home between the bandido’s spread-apart legs.

Pain tore
through Matteo, bringing a screech from his lips. In attempt to
escape from the agony, he jerked an involuntary pace to the rear.
Like a flash Colin thrust himself erect. Gliding forward, he
fetched the dirk around in a savage cross slash. Raking across
Matteo’s throat, the sharp edge laid it open almost to the bone.
Discarding his machete, the bandido spun around and crashed across
Dog’s body.

Slowly the
wild, savage elation of the mortal combat ebbed away from Colin.
The red mists of battle cleared from his head and he looked half
amazed at the destruction he had wrought.