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Authors: Ralph Compton

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BOOK: Autumn of the Gun
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“Then git off my case,” Bean said. “Even if they're yours to sell an' they're prime, I won't have the money till tomorrow.”
The trio was about to leave the saloon when the wagon with its soldier escort drove into the compound. Rebecca Tuttle rode behind it.
“We'd best leave them mules where they are,” said Burris, “and get the hell away from here. Them soldiers know all about us by now, and I ain't riskin' military arrest for no two hundred dollars.”
“I'm with you,” Sellers said. “If Doak hadn't been so squeamish about bushwhacking the woman, it wouldn't have caught up to us like this.”
“Shut up,” said Doak, “and let's ride.”
Lest they attract attention, they walked their horses until they were past the sentry's post, near the gate. Mounting, they rode south, leaving the troublesome mules tethered near the quartermaster's.
 
Sergeant Mullinax accompanied Rebecca to the office of Captain Ferguson, the post commander. Rebecca told her story.
“So you have reason to believe these three men are here,” Ferguson said. “Have you spoken to the sentry on duty?”
“Yes, sir,” said Sergeant Mullinax. “He went on duty at three o'clock, and he had not seen these men with the mules. That means they're somewhere on post, for they weren't that far ahead of us.”
“Four mules shouldn't be hard to find,” Captain Ferguson said. “I'll assign some men to look for them and warn the sentry at the gate. Miss Tuttle, can you identify these men you're accusing?”
“Yes,” said Rebecca.
“Sergeant Mullinax,” Captain Ferguson said, “since you are involved in this already, I'd like for you to ask around for the men in question, while keeping an eye out for the mules.”
Mullinax went immediately to the sutler's, entered the saloon, and told the bartender what he was seeking.
“Three strangers was in here a little while ago,” said the bartender, “and they had some words with that gent over yonder. The one with the red suspenders.”
Sergeant Mullinax approached the table where Bean and his three teamsters sat.
“I'm looking for three men,” Sergeant Mullinax began, “and—”
“They got four mules they're needin' to sell,” Bean finished.
“You didn't buy them, then,” said Sergeant Mullinax.
“No,” Bean said. “They ain't been gone but maybe twenty minutes.”
Since the newly arrived sentry hadn't seen the mules leave, that meant they had to be somewhere on post. Extra horses and mules were kept in the quartermaster's corral and Mullinax went there, to find four mules tethered to the fence. Sergeant Mullinax made his way to the quartermaster's and spoke to Sergeant Rainey.
“They were here,” said Sergeant Rainey. “Four mules with no bills of sale. Claimed they found the animals wandering loose.”
“I'll leave them where they are, for the time being,” Sergeant Mullinax said. “I believe their owner will be claiming them.”
When Sergeant Mullinax returned to the post commander's office, Rebecca Tuttle was gone.
“She's at the dispensary,” said Captain Ferguson. “The doctor's working over the man who was shot.”
“The four mules are at the quartermaster's corral, sir,” Sergeant Mullinax said.
“What about the men who took them?”
“I suspect they saw us coming,” said Sergeant Mullinax, “and rode out. I'd say they realized they were in trouble when they saw the girl ride in with us.”
Rebecca waited nervously outside the room where Wes had been taken. She thought of the stormy days after they had come together, and smiled. By turns he had been silent, temperamental, and hostile, and it had taken her a while to understand him. Realizing he was inexperienced with women and unsure of himself, she had been careful not to say or do anything that might reveal her newly found insight. He had been neck deep in pride, having made his way in a man's world and met every challenge. Then he had been faced with the greatest challenge of all—a lonely, desperate female. Not knowing what else to do, she had thrown herself at him in the most brazen manner, and he had taken her willingly. They had just gotten used to one another, and now Wes lay wounded, perhaps mortally. If he survived, how would he respond to his having ridden into an ambush? She didn't doubt he would become a man in every sense of the word—if the learning experience wasn't the death of him. She'd been alone with her thoughts for more than an hour when the doctor, Lieutenant Burke, returned.
“He'll live,” said Burke, “but he'll need rest. Are you his missus?”
“Not yet,” Rebecca said. “He's Wes Tremayne, and I'm Rebecca Tuttle.”
“I'll speak to Captain Ferguson,” said Lieutenant Burke, “and arrange quarters for the two of you. Wherever you were headed, plan on delaying your journey for two weeks.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said. “Please put us together.”
Burke winked at her, and despite herself she blushed.
Lincoln County, New Mexico August 2, 1880
The morning following their fruitless ride after the rustlers, Nathan met Pat Garrett, the man who was being urged to run for sheriff of Lincoln County. Garrett had joined the deputies for breakfast in the hotel dining room. He had questions regarding the rustling and the obvious difficulty in resolving the problem. Breakfast was over and the men were down to extra cups of coffee when Garrett spoke.
“Having chased these rustlers, do you men have any idea as to how they might best be captured?”
“I got an idea,” said Bib Driscoll, “but I don't know how it could be done. Only way I can see, is maybe gettin' a man into their outfit that could pass us the word as to where they aim to strike next.”
“An excellent idea,” Garrett said, “but I doubt it can be done. It would take a man trusted by Billy and his bunch, and that kind of man wouldn't betray them to the law.”
“Then the only other way,” said Tuck McFadden, “is to ride them down, but not being allowed to follow 'em across the border kills that.”
“We never know where they'll strike next,” Warren Hinderman said. “Hell, there's no way we can stake out every ranch in Lincoln County. I think Acting Governor Wallace is barking up the wrong tree, not allowin' us to chase the varmints across the river.”
“It's not Wallace's decision to make,” said Garrett. “Washington has an agreement with the Mexican government, and President Hayes has specifically ordered that we honor that agreement. So we can't pursue the outlaws across the river.”
“Where are these outlaws when they're not rustling horses and cattle?” Nathan asked. “They must have a place where they hole up.”
“Not necessarily,” said Garrett. “I believe some of them are small ranchers, using the Tunstall, McQueen, and Murphy feud to cover stealing from their neighbors.”
“There's talk of you running for sheriff of Lincoln County,” said Bode Watts. “If you was sheriff, what would you do? How would you bust up this gang?”
“I'd go after the leader,” Garrett replied. “You kill a snake by cutting off its head. I'd go after Billy the Kid. This is still a grudge thing, and Billy's kept it alive.”
“Hell, every friend of Tunstall and McSween is a friend to the Kid,” said Neil Sutton. “You could ride over Lincoln County for a year and not root him out.”
“I knew Billy before all this started,” Garrett said. “I'm gambling that I can find him.”
Fort Worth, Texas July 16, 1880
Given laudanum, Wes slept around the clock. Rebecca had slept on a cot outside his room and was beside him when he awakened.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“Fort Worth,” said Rebecca. “After you were shot, soldiers found us.”
“I rode into an ambush,” he said bitterly. “I'm just a damned tenderfoot, a shorthorn that's in over his head.”
“I suppose it wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done,” said Rebecca, “but how else do we learn without making mistakes?”
“A man don't go on livin', making that kind of mistake. I should be dead.”
“Oh, stop acting like you're God Almighty,” Rebecca said. “You were shot, but you're alive, and we got the mules. I sold them this morning.”
“I reckon the outlaws escaped,” he said.
“Yes,” said Rebecca. “They'd been trying to sell the mules and must have seen us as we rode in. They slipped away while you were being brought here, before I had a chance to talk to Captain Ferguson, the post commander.”
At that point, the doctor came in. “I'm Lieutenant Burke,” he said.
“I'm obliged to you,” said Wes. “How bad am I hurt?”
“Two weeks' worth,” Burke replied. “I've arranged quarters for you, and I'm having you moved there.”
“I got to lay in this bed for two weeks?”
“No,” said Burke, “but you have to rest. That means staying out of the saddle. That slug narrowly missed a lung. You're young but not indestructible. You must have time to heal.”
Wes said nothing. For the first time since escaping the orphanage in St. Louis, he felt helpless and vulnerable, and he hated it. By late afternoon, he had been moved to an available officer's cabin. Shortly before supper, Sergeant Mullinax stopped by.
“I'm owin' you,” said Wes. “How was it you and your men happened along at just the right time?”
Mullinax laughed. “I suppose I can tell you that without violating regulations. We had picked up an army payroll at Fort Elliott. It comes by train as far as Dodge City, and by escorted patrol from there to Fort Elliott. From Fort Elliott, it's distributed to all other Texas forts.”
“What do you know of those three outlaws that bushwhacked me?” Wes asked.
“Not much,” said Mullinax. “I never laid eyes on them. I do know they rode south. I trailed them a ways, to get some idea as to where they might be headed. Captain Ferguson telegraphed their descriptions to Texas Ranger outposts to the south of us.”
“What are the most likely towns?”
“Waco, Austin, and San Antonio,” Mullinax said. “Of course, there's Corpus Christi, on the gulf, and Laredo, on the border. You're not thinking of pursuing them, are you?”
“My God, no,” said Rebecca, who had been listening.
“Why not?” said Wes.
“They took less than five hundred dollars from my father,” Rebecca said. “Is it worth getting shot again?”
She had said exactly the wrong thing. Wes reared up on his elbows, his eyes like twin daggers, and spoke through clenched teeth.
“The money has nothing to do with it. When they gunned me down, it became a personal thing. Despite what you think, just because they shot me once, it don't mean they'll manage it a second time.”
“It's time I was leaving,” said Sergeant Mullinax, and he departed.
“By the time you can ride,” Rebecca said, “those men will be two weeks ahead of us. I don't think we should ride after them.”
“Then we won't ride after them,” said Wes. “I'll ride after them, and you'll stay here until I return.”
“Oh?” Rebecca said. “Where would you be now if I'd stayed at Fort Elliott while you rode after them?”
“I owe you my life,” he said, “and you're not going to let me forget it, are you?”
“Not if that's what it takes to keep you from getting yourself killed,” said Rebecca. “Does that pride of yours run so deep, and are you so mule headed, that you can't see that I care what happens to you? If I did some foolish thing, risking my life, wouldn't you care enough to try and stop me?”
“Yeah,” he said, sheepishly.
He extended his hand, and she came to sit beside him on the bed.
“I never knew my father or my mother,” he said, “and I don't know what it's like, having somebody ... care about me. I reckon that's the one part of bein' a man that don't come easy to me. How do you feel something for somebody else, when ... when you've never experienced it yourself?”
“You're experiencing it now,” said Rebecca, “and you're better at it than you think.”
CHAPTER 18
Lincoln County, New Mexico November 2, 1880
“The Kid and some of his bunch has been seen at Coyote Springs,” Sheriff Wilder told the posse. “I want all of you to ride out there and lay low for a day or two. This may be our chance to jump them without waiting for them to raid another ranch.”
“Good idea, up to a point,” said Bib Driscoll. “I'm not sure any of us has ever seen the Kid. All we've been able to do is chase him in the dark, after him and his outfit had stole somebody's horses or cows.”
“Then I'll ride with you,” Sheriff Wilder said. “I'm catching seven kinds of hell for not running this bunch down. We'll ride at sundown.”
Near Coyote Springs was the one-saloon village of White Oaks, and it was there that the Kid and his gang had their first encounter with the posse. But the outlaws had taken the precaution of posting a lookout, and they broke for their horses as the sheriff and his posse approached.
“Ride them down!” Wilder shouted.
But there was no moon, and when the posse began firing, they succeeded only in hitting several of the outlaws' horses. The unhorsed outlaws were given a hand up by companions, and, riding double, managed to escape. The next week, Pat Garrett became Lincoln County's new sheriff, while Billy and two companions again escaped by killing one of their pursuers. On December 15, Governor Wallace increased the reward to five hundred dollars for the Kid's delivery to the Lincoln County jail. Again Pat Garrett, who had not yet taken office, met with the Lincoln County posse.
BOOK: Autumn of the Gun
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