Hell on the Prairie (21 page)

“
You pick, Maggert,” I said. “A knife in your
back or another walloping with the skillet.”

He chuckled. “I bet you’re as squeamish as your
brother. Can’t finish off anyone, including me. If he wasn’t such a
good tracker, I’d have got rid of him long ago.”

I pushed the knife in a little farther, and blood
soaked his shirt. “The female of the species is always more
vicious. Wanna give me a try?”

I wanted him to give me a reason to push that knife
in even more. It came to me that that’s what the “judge not” was
all about. It wasn’t up to me to decide if Zeb and Hank had done
wrong. This man was a killer, but the law would decide his fate,
not me. Even so, I wanted him to give me a reason to whittle a
little piece out of his back.

“
Take his pistol,” I told the
woman.

She looked a like a rabbit sneaking up on a wolf,
kind of stepping sideways and reaching out. Maggert grabbed her
hand. She gasped. I poked. He roared. She clonked him over the head
with that frying pan again and again. Finally he fell.

“
Go get some rope, or leather straps –whatever
you can find.”

She scampered off, and looked ever so happy to get
away. I still held the knife to Maggert’s neck, thinking he’d wake
up soon. She hadn’t hit him that hard, and the knife wound wasn’t
deep.

The woman climbed up the ladder with a rope and a
pony saddle. “Thought we could tie his hands, then cinch him up in
this to keep his arms tight.”

“
Good thinking. My name’s Elsie.
You?”

“
Mary.”

Maggert was already coming around by the time we got
his hands bound. Mary threw that saddle over his chest, I flipped
the man over, and we cinched him up good and proper. I had a goodly
long tail left on the rope so I wound it around his legs and
boots.

“
Mary, get your frying pan and stand right
here. He moves a muscle, you bash him on the head again. Keep it up
until you pound some reason into him.” I checked his pistol to see
if it was loaded. It was, and I handed it to her. “If you think he
might get loose, shoot him in the legs.”

I worried about my brother and Hank. After I wiped
off my knife and picked up the Henry, I climbed down the ladder.
The stomping and hollering had quieted so I had no way of knowing
who was where.

Dickey still lay in the dirt –tied, tattered, and
groaning. I stepped over him and headed to the house. Two
scoundrels bagged, three to go.

Not a sound came from the house. The door was ajar
and I peeked in. Two men lay on the floor –one was likely Mary’s
husband. Someone grabbed me and jammed his hand over my mouth.

“
Elsie, it’s me, Hank. I’m letting you
go.”

I breathed easier. “You with them? Or us?”

“
You know the answer to that. Bird’s dead.” He
nodded toward a body on the floor. “Yancy and Cross have Zeb. They
took off across the field out back.”

“
Horses?”

“
They haven’t caught them yet that I know
of.”

“
Best we see if they found yours and Zeb’s
horses behind the knoll. I’ll call the mules.”

By then, we heard hoofbeats –lots of them. I put my
pinky fingers between my teeth and whistled and the next moment, we
were surrounded by eight draft mules. On top of Poseidon was a
bloodied Zeb, hanging on to the scraggly mane for dear life.

Hank hauled him down and set him on the porch.
“Where’s Yancy and Cross?”

“
Cross is out in the field, trompled.” He
wiped blood off his forehead with his sleeve. “Don’t know about
Yancy or Rhodes.”

“
Rhodes?”

“
Didn’t see him. Must be getting sloppy. When
I went into the house, both Maggert and Rhodes laid into me. I
didn’t think Hank would ever get there. Before he did, Rhodes
hauled me out back. They planned to shoot me, but the mules came
running through and the one stopped long enough for me to get on. I
don’t know how I got on that big beast, but if you’re scared
enough, you can do blamed near anything.”

“
Let’s collect Cross, then,” I said, happy to
see my brother alive. I wanted to know more but we had business to
take care of. “The farmer’s wife, Mary, has Maggert up in the
hayloft. Lucky for me, she wasn’t shy about using her frying pan.
Dickey’s in the yard where we left him. I say we leave Yancy and
Rhodes –take the three we have to the law in Wolf Creek, and haul
Cross and Bird to the undertaker. We have to go there anyhow for
Pa.”

The mules trotted to the corral and jumped in.

“
What in tarnation are those animals doing?”
Zeb asked.

“
Drinking. The trough’s in the corral.” I sure
wished we had the wagon –then I remembered the farm wagon north of
the barn. “I’ll ask Mary if they have a harness big enough for
draft mules. We can haul them all in the wagon.”

“
I’ll go check on the farmer,” Hank said. “He
was still alive last I knew. We can take him to the doctor
there.”

I leaned the Henry against the house, sat beside my
brother, and brushed some weeds and dirt out of his hair. To Hank,
I said, “Best go spell Mary and have her tend to her husband. But
be careful, she swings one mean frying pan. Maggert’s tied up. Once
we get the wagon in front of the barn, you can roll him out and let
him fall.”

“
You said you didn’t want any
killing.”

“
I didn’t say nothing about maiming. We’ll put
straw in the wagon.”

Hank and I found the tack, harnessed two of the
mules, and fixed up the wagon bed with straw and blankets. He
lowered Maggert with a rope, so he didn’t have a bumpy ride after
all. You’d never know it by all his hollering, though. Zeb helped
load Dickey and Bird’s body, then they left to pick up Pa’s body,
and after that, they’d circle around to the field and pick up
Cross.

I pumped some water and helped Mary as she fussed
over her husband, Virgil. He’d fared better than it had looked, and
was able to stand. Shaky, but upright.

“
Reckoned if they thought I was alive, it’d be
harder on Mary.” He was likely right about that, and he looked
almost human once she washed his face.

His wife nodded toward the window. “The wagon’s in
the field now.”

Good, because I was worried about the two that got
away. “We didn’t catch Yancy and Rhodes.” They might’ve caught
their horses and joined up with the Danby gang in Wolf Creek. My
hope was they wouldn’t go after Zeb and Hank. The sooner we were
quit of this country, the better. The Pacific Ocean was sounding
mighty fine.

“
Your men better take care. Yancy bragged
about his long-distance shooting.” Virgil, still not too steady on
his feet, carefully lowered himself onto a kitchen chair and
admired my Henry. “Sure wished I’d had one of those during the war.
Might have saved some of my friends.”

Mary pulled back the curtain pointed out the window
to the top of the knoll. “I think your men are in trouble.”

Sure enough, a rifle barrel poked through the grass.
I could see Hank and Zeb out in the field tying up Cross. Sitting
ducks. I grabbed the rifle. Mary and Virgil were about to see a
little distance shooting, too.

Mary took the window glass out. “Looks like Yancy’s
waiting for the fellows to move to the other side of the wagon so
he has a clean shot.”

I prayed Zeb and Hank stayed right where they were
until I could get set. I planted my elbows on the window sill,
tucked the stock tight to my shoulder, and concentrated on quieting
my heart. My breathing was shallow but even. I calmed my eyeballs
and took careful aim just behind Yancy’s barrel. Then, on an out
breath, squeezed the trigger.

Pans rattled and the boom nearly deafened us all. I
hit the target dead on –the rifle barrel flew in the air,
splintered, and a few rounds went off besides. Hank and Zeb
crouched behind the wagon, pistols drawn, thinking someone from the
house shot at them.

I cocked and set to fire again if need be. The grass
rustled on the knoll, two shots were fired –pistol, not rifle. Hank
and Zeb turned toward the sound. At least they were pointed the
right direction. I didn’t have a clear shot but as it was, Hank and
Zeb had nothing but a wagon and two mules between them and
death.

That did it. Those yayhoos had killed my Ma, my Pa,
and turned my baby brother into a murderer. They weren’t getting
anything more. When the grass rustled again, I aimed and fired,
cocked, and fired again. Nine cartridges left. Now it was their
turn.

Maggert managed to wiggle out of the wagon and ran
for his buddies, still trussed up in the pony saddle. One of them
ran down the knoll, firing as he went. Looked like he didn’t hit
anything but dirt, but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t have a
clear shot at either of them.

I whistled for the mules, and they took off, wagon
and all, back for the house.

Hank and Zeb split up and went at the two scoundrels
from either side. Zeb tackled Rhodes but not before Rhodes had
managed to uncinch Maggert. We should’ve done a better job. He
still had his hands tied but he used them for a club on my brother.
Zeb went down and bounced right back up, taking Maggert’s legs as
he stood, but getting a hefty kick in the gut.

Hank and the other one fought fast and brutal. They
hit each other so hard, I could hear bones cracking even though
they were a couple hundred yards away.

At the sound of a muffled shot, Zeb went down and
stayed. I tried to stay calm so my shooting would be on target, but
if he killed my brother I’d see justice done sooner rather than
later.

I aimed but couldn’t get off a shot before Maggert
jumped Hank, clubbing him from behind with his bound hands. Hank
twirled around and kicked Maggert in the ribs and he went down. If
Hank would just take off and run, I could hit Maggert, but he
fought on.

The mules pulled the wagon into the yard. “Mary,
take your frying pan and make sure Dickey behaves himself.”

To get Hank’s attention, I aimed about a foot from
Maggert’s head and fired. But at that moment, Maggert jumped up and
took a bullet in the thigh. I felt real bad for that scalawag.

It was enough to distract the other bushwhacker.
Hank knocked him down and twisted his arm behind his back. Just to
make the dirty devil behave, I fired off another round, kicking up
dirt about three feet from him. Hank threw the man’s pistol and a
knife away from them.

My stomach churned knowing my brother could be dead
or dying out there. I ran outside and jumped on the wagon.

“
Mary, do you have any rope in the
house?”

She nodded and ran in to fetch it.

The reins were all messed up but I fished them out
enough to get us going, and by then Mary had thrown the rope in the
back. I hollered at the mules to get on with it. A minute later, we
stopped by my brother, who was sitting in the dirt holding his
bloody arm. I hated to see him hurt but I was so blamed glad he was
alive that tears welled in my eyes.

I nodded at him and took the rope over to Hank,
figuring we needed to get the last one trussed up before tending to
Zeb. “Is this Yancy?”

“
Nope, Rhodes.”

“
Yancy’s dead,” Rhodes said, more of a groan
since Hank’s knee was firmly planted in his back. “Sharpshooter got
him.”

Hank raised an eyebrow and gazed at me. “It’s
fitting he should go out that way.” He cocked his head toward Zeb.
“Best tend to your brother. He’s leaking.”

Maggert was bleeding, too, but I didn’t much care.
His hands were still tied.

“
Might as well saddle him up again,” I told
Hank. “We don’t have any more rope.

Hank’s face looked like a meat pie but he fared a
whole lot better than Rhodes, who had a couple of missing teeth and
a crooked, bloody nose. His left eye was swollen shut, and he
babied his broken left arm with his right.

We’d had a long afternoon. Hank and I put Rhodes and
Cross in the wagon. Cross had expired and Rhodes didn’t want to
ride with dead bodies, but Hank explained to him that they didn’t
talk much. I told the mules to get back in the corral and wait for
us.

Half an hour later, we pulled into Wolf Creek. The
smell of burning animals and the sight of blood churned my belly.
The place looked like hell on earth with dead mules, horses, and
people scattered all over. We couldn’t even get into town without
clearing the road. Hank and I unhitched the wagon and used the
mules to pull the dead animals to the side of the street. Zeb
couldn’t help much on account of the bullet in his arm.

Once we finally did get in town, I asked for the
doctor.

“
He rode with the posse,” said a bloody, dazed
man standing on the street, “but there’s a dentist here who might
tend your wounded. You’ll have to get in line.”

I told Hank we’d drop Zeb off at the dentist, then
take the others to the jail, which we did. Zeb would have a long
wait, but so it went. All this pain and misery was caused by the
Danby gang, and if it weren’t for them holding up my wagon, my
brother and Hank would’ve been part of the horrible bloodbath.

The only lawman left in town was a deputy marshal,
but I reckoned he could take care of business. Hank wasn’t too keen
on visiting the law, with good reason, but we had to do the right
thing.

Maggert had a good bit of swagger when he’d had his
thumb on other men, but now he squawked like a scalded goose. “He’s
your man,” he hollered, pointing at Hank. “Arrest him for stealing,
murder, anything you can think of, he done it.”

“
Hank’s not the one who murdered my father,” I
told Deputy Croy. “Maggert gave the order and Dickey pulled the
trigger. But Hank’s the one who brought my pa’s murderers
in.”