Autumn of the Gun (2 page)

A day after regaining his freedom, Nathan released the horses belonging to Tasby and Doss, their cartridge belts with empty holsters thonged to the saddle horns. The horses would find their way back to Ponder's town, and Nathan expected their return to trigger a massive manhunt, for Nathan Stone knew too much. When every available man had been mounted and sent in search of him, Nathan would ride in and settle accounts with Judge Ponder. Nathan had kept the Colts and Winchesters taken from the dead men, along with all their ammunition, and had transferred their food and supplies from their saddlebags to his own. Two days after releasing the horses, Nathan crossed the Gila and rode east. The searchers would be forced to ride west until they discovered what had become of Tasby and Doss. That would allow Nathan to settle with Judge Ponder and prepare a reception for the searchers when they returned. Concealing his trail, Nathan kept well to the south of the Gila River. Once he had ridden far enough eastward, he headed north. Empty was somewhere ahead of him, and when Nathan was within a mile or two of Ponder's town, he circled it. To the south, he found what he was seeking. There were the fresh tracks of many horses, and the trail led west. Nathan reined up, and Empty came trotting out of the brush.

“Looks like the judge mounted everybody that could ride,” said Nathan. “Empty, it's time we called on Judge Ponder and showed that old coyote the error of his ways.”

Somewhere a mule brayed, and Nathan could hear the distant thunk of an axe. Ponder evidently had kept his chain gangs at work, and that meant guards were on duty. Nathan picketed his horse in a thicket and made his way on foot toward Ponder's quarters, which also served as a jail. Coming in behind the building, he paused. He saw no horses at the hitch rails in front of any of the buildings. He pointed toward the dirt street, and Empty bounded ahead. If there was unseen danger, the dog would warn him. Empty trotted the length of the street, then returned, and Nathan stepped around the corner of the jail. Two horses were tied at the hitch rail before the building and, ignoring the entrance, Nathan stepped up on the porch from one end. He eased up beside the door, listening, and from within he heard voices. The loudest belonged to Judge Ponder.

“Damn it, Roscoe, if they don't ride him down, we're finished.”

“They won't ride him down,” said Roscoe, “because he won't be there. Them bosses comin' in with empty saddles is proof enough he's cashed in Tasby and Doss. Now he's got a hoss and a gun, and he's on his way here.”

“I fear you may be right,” Ponder said. “I want you to remain here in this office until Sheriff Hondo and the posse returns.”

Roscoe laughed. “Keeno. I can take him. That's why I didn't ride with the posse. I'll gamble they ain't a man in the territory faster with a Colt than me.”

“You lose,” said Nathan, kicking the door open.

Nathan stood in the doorway, a Colt belted to each hip. Roscoe managed to recover from the shock, but Nathan fired twice, and the man died with his pistol barely clear of the holster. Judge Ponder dropped to the floor, seized a shotgun, and fired over the desk, but Nathan was belly down on the floor, and the deadly load went over his head. He fired once, and the slug struck Ponder between the eyes. Outside, Empty was barking furiously; without a backward look Nathan was out the door. Across the street, a man stepped out of the saloon. He fired twice and, the slugs slammed into the wall to Nathan's right. He returned the fire, and his second shot drove his attacker against the saloon wall. The man slid to the ground and didn't move. Nathan could hear distant shouts, a fair indication that some of the guards were coming to investigate. Nathan circled around and headed for the site where the dam was being built. Normally there were two guards, and if one of them had gone to investigate the shooting at the jail, Nathan would be facing only one of them at a time. When Nathan neared the dam, he could see the men had ceased work, and Sanchez, the remaining guard, was awaiting word as to what the shooting had been about. Within pistol range, Nathan stepped out of the brush and shouted a challenge.

“Sanchez!”

Sanchez had a Winchester in the crook of his left arm, but went for his Colt. Nathan allowed him more of an opportunity than he deserved, and then gunned him down.

“Stone,” one of the prisoners shouted, “God bless you. Get us out of these chains so we can help you.”

“Some of you search Sanchez; see if he has the key to your irons and free yourselves,” said Nathan. “That other guard will be comin' back on the run. I aim to welcome him.”

“Damn it,” said one of the prisoners, “he ain't got the key to these irons. Gustavez must have it.”

“He'll be comin' back,” Nathan said, “and I'm sure he won't object to us havin' it.”

“He sure as hell won't,” said one of the men who had taken the Winchester from the fallen Sanchez.

“Where's the other work gang?” Nathan asked.

“Workin' the fields,” said one of the men. “What's happened in town?”

“I talked some sense to Judge Ponder and one of his gun-throwers in a language they could understand,” Nathan replied. “Once we've rid ourselves of these guards, we're going to prepare a reception for Sheriff Hondo and his posse that's out lookin' for me.”

Suddenly a slug zipped past Nathan's head. Two men, their horses at a gallop, had drawn their guns and were firing at Nathan. He returned the fire, but the prisoner who had the Winchester shot one of the men out of the saddle. The second man wheeled his horse and tried to run, but was gunned down by one of the captives who had taken the Colt from the fallen Sanchez. Quickly the men searched Gustavez and came up with keys to their leg irons.

“While you're freeing yourselves,” said Nathan, “I'm going after that other guard. If there are more of these coyotes around, you now have weapons. Use them. I'll be back.”

Nathan took a horse belonging to one of the dead guards and rode toward the distant fields. He must get within gun range before the remaining guard recognized him. But his luck didn't hold, and lead ripped the air over his head as soon as he was within range. It became a dangerous situation, for the other man was kneeling, firing a Winchester. But some of the prisoners came to Nathan's aid. They piled on the guard from behind and seized his Colt, and he was dead before Nathan reached him. Quickly the men went through the dead guard's pockets, found the key to their leg irons, and freed themselves. Most of the men remembered Nathan, and they shouted a joyous welcome.

“Come on,” Nathan said. “Sheriff Hondo's out with a posse, and we have to be ready when they return.”

“What happened to Judge Ponder?” somebody wanted to know.

“He came after me with a shotgun,” said Nathan, “but he missed. I didn't.”

When the groups came together, there were almost a hundred men, and they looked at Nathan expectantly.

“Somewhere in this town there'll be guns and ammunition,” Nathan said. “It's up to us to arm all of you. We'll start with Ponder's quarters and the jail.”

Ponder and Roscoe lay where they had fallen. One of the freed prisoners took the shotgun from Ponder's dead hands, while another seized Roscoe's Colt and pistol belt. They found two more Colts, two Winchesters, and a supply of ammunition, but it was far short of what they needed.

“God,” said one of the men, “there's fifty riders with Sheriff Hondo. We'll be outgunned near ten to one.”

“Maybe,” Nathan said, “but Ponder has dynamite somewhere. He used it building the dam. Let's find that dynamite, and we'll even the odds.”

They searched the jail and Ponder's quarters without result. In the outer office, a faded, dirty rug covered most of the floor. Shoving Ponder's desk against the wall, Nathan kicked the rug aside, revealing an iron ring flush with the floor. Two men seized the ring and raised the door. There was a lamp on Ponder's desk. Nathan lighted it and held it above the yawning hole. Wooden steps vanished into the darkness.

“Anybody down there?” Nathan shouted.

There was no response.

“Gimme the lamp,” said one of the men. “Some of you cover me, and I'll go down and light the way.”

There was no other way, and Nathan surrendered the lamp.

“My God!” the man shouted from below. “There's gold down here!”

“I wouldn't get too excited,” Nathan said. “It's stolen. What about the dynamite?”

“One full case an' part of another,” came the response. “There's caps an' fuses, too.”

“Some of you get down there,” Nathan said, “and bring up the dynamite, caps, and fuses. We have work to do, and we may not have much time.”

After they had brought up the dynamite, Nathan took the lamp and went below. He wanted his own Colts and Winchester, given him by Texas Ranger Captain Sage Jennings. He quickly found the weapons concealed under canvas. When he reached the head of the stairs, he found the men had broken out the dynamite.

“We'll fuse and cap single sticks,” said Nathan. “Short fuses, not more than six or seven seconds. We'll spread out all over town, each of us with a few sticks of dynamite. I found my weapons below, so you can have the pair of Winchesters and the Colts I took from Tasby and Doss.”

“When that bunch rides in, we'd best throw the dynamite while they're bunched,” one of the men said. “Elsewise, they'll scatter, and we don't have the guns for a standoff.”

“That's the idea,” Nathan said. “If nothin' else, the blast should stun them long enough for us to take their guns.”

Nathan returned to his picketed horse, taking the Winchesters and extra ammunition from the saddlebags. He had all but forgotten Empty when the dog loped out of the brush and growled deep in his throat. Something was definitely wrong, and when Nathan looked to the south, he knew what it was. There was a faint plume of dust against the blue of the sky. The outlaw posse was returning! Nathan hit the steps to the jail on the run.

“They're coming,” Nathan said grimly. “A couple of you stay here with me and the rest of you spread out and take cover. Drop some of that dynamite in their midst, and their horses should pile them. Some will be stunned by the blast, giving you time to grab their guns. The others will come up shootin', and it'll be up to those of you with guns to cut them down.”

Each man grabbed two or three sticks of dynamite and they scattered like quail. Two of the men remained with Nathan. Standing near the door, they could see the first horsemen topping the hill to the south. With open fields on each side of the trail, there was no cover for the defenders except the few buildings on the edge of town. By the time the outlaws were close enough for the dynamite to be thrown, they would be within range of Nathan's Winchester. Once the approaching riders were close enough, the defenders wasted no time. Dynamite rained on them, much of it exploding in the air above them. On the heels of one explosion there was another. Horses screamed and pitched, men cursed, and those who had been thrown rose from the dust only to be gunned down. Sheriff Hondo lit out in a run for the jail, only to have a thrown stick of dynamite explode right over his head. He sprawled in the dirt to rise no more. Half a dozen of the outlaws who had stayed in their saddles wheeled their horses and rode for their lives. Taking advantage of the thrown dynamite, the defenders rushed into the street, seizing the guns of the confused outlaws. Those who had survived the dynamite blasts staggered to their feet, only to be shot down without mercy, most of them with their own weapons. When the dust settled, forty-five outlaws lay dead. Not one of the defenders had been hurt, and there was a victorious shout. The men gathered in front of the jail. They owed their very lives to Nathan Stone, and they listened respectfully as he spoke to them.

“Men,” Nathan said, “what becomes of this town is of no interest to me. I want just one thing. Part of that gold under Ponder's office was stolen from the AT & SF Railroad, and I want it returned. A friend of mine almost gave his life for it.”

“What happens to the rest of it?” somebody asked.

“I don't know,” said Nathan. “If nobody comes along to claim it, I reckon it belongs to those of you who have had part of your lives stolen by Ponder and his outlaws.”

Raiding Ponder's stores of food, the men prepared a meal such as none of them had enjoyed for months. Near sundown, two riders approached from the north, and some of the men readied their guns.

“It's all right,” said Nathan. “They're friends of mine.”

Harley and Vivian Stafford reined up their horses, surprised at the presence of so many armed men.

“Get down,” Nathan said. “It's a long story.”