The Deputy - Edge Series 2 (13 page)

73

Rifle shots cracked down the hill and he saw the accompanying muzzle flashes and spurts of smoke in a brief period of cloud veiled moonlight. And powered himself into a fast roll away from the centre to the side of the roof.

Was aware of bullets that whined close above him and heard one ricochet off the adobe wall a foot or so below him Had a fleeting impression of four figures as they rose from cover and whirled to race away up the hill.

‘But I wasn’t,’ he murmured as he dropped off the side of the roof. Flailed his legs and arms for a moment, trying to twist himself into the kind of falling posture that he hoped would do the least damage when he hit the ground. And still in mid-air he yelled: ‘They’re up and running! Go get the – ‘

He hit the ground on his right side, the hip first and then the shoulder and the length of his leg. He could not hold back a grunt of pain: heard excited shouts while he indulged his hurt for several seconds, unable to move his paralysed muscles. Then there was another fusillade of gunfire as sensations outside of the pain returned to his body. And he was able to struggle into a position from where he could get an out-offocus impression of his surroundings, close by and in the middle distance, his vision blurred by salty moisture.

A group of men was lumbering away from the house toward the barn, exploding pistol shots at the hillside beyond. And they had made it across the open area and were in the solid cover at one side of the barn or hidden in the moon shadow of the other before Edge managed to haul himself fully to his feet: needed the support of the rough textured wall to keep from falling back down.

His exposed teeth gritted against the need to give vent to a groan of pain, he peered through barely cracked open eyes at the former attackers now racing away up the hill in full retreat, firing an occasional wild shot behind them in faint hope of hitting one of their pursuers.

He shook his head, did a double take and allowed his lips to take the shape of a cold grin of grim satisfaction when he saw there were only two men racing frantically away. And just this pair of the original six escaped from the Brady place: reached the crest of the hill and disappeared over it beyond reach of the gunfire from behind them. Alvarez and his men and North were stalled in the cover of the barn, reluctant to risk the spartanly featured slope on which four men had already been gunned down. An order was yelled and the intermittent gunfire petered out. Then silence filled the night for stretched seconds before, beyond the hill crest, hoof beats hit the hard packed ground of this piece of Texas hill country.

74

Edge struggled to raise his Winchester and could bring it no higher than hip level: which caused him pain enough for several moments. Until he realised the hoof beats were receding into the distance. Which signalled the riders were not about to gallop into sight over the hill top to launch a suicidal second charge at the objective they had failed to reach on foot.

There was a burst of elated talk among the men at the barn, followed by shrill yells of triumphant relief as they acknowledged the enemy had been beaten off. But sounds closer to where Edge leaned against the side wall of the house captured his grim faced attention. The cautious setting down of feet. Then the rapid breathing of somebody in the grip of high tension

He caught and held his own breath and the grimace became more deeply set on his face as he struggled against the demand to vent sounds of pain through gritted teeth as he eased warily away from the wall.

He went to the front corner of the house, peered around it and vented a low pitched groan: a sound that expressed a mixture of discomfort and inarticulate thanks that a man had not sneaked unseen into the Brady place while the gun battle raged. Then he asked:

‘Did you just feel like taking an evening stroll, lady?’

He spoke in a neutral tone but the way the woman pulled up with a strangled gasp and whirled toward him, her face frozen into a look of terror, it was as if he had threatened her with imminent death.

She swallowed hard and forced out the hoarse response: ‘You are a . . . ‘

She found her native Spanish the easier language in which to give voice to her feelings. Cursed him fluently, obviously well aware he understood every colourful word she spat viciously at him. Suddenly cut herself off abruptly and challenged:

‘If I run way now, you will shoot me down like a dog?’

Edge looked at the Winchester which was still levelled from his hip, carelessly aimed in her general direction. Then his narrowed, glittering eyed gaze returned to her scowling face and he showed his teeth in a taut grin as he told her:

‘You’re one of the so called fairer sex, so that should be like a bitch, I guess. And I reckon I’m too damn old to start over again chasing women, Isabella.’

She directed a nervous glance toward the Mexicans and North who were checking that the four unmoving men sprawled over a small area on the hillside were as dead as they looked.

‘So maybe I’ll have to . . . ‘

75

She half turned and a smile of excitement began to spread across her once pretty but now overly fleshed face. Then froze, fear leaping into her dark eyes again when she looked at the rifle which was now aimed unequivocally at her ample chest as Edge pumped the lever action.

He completed: ‘ . . . shoot you. But it’ll be like they threatened at the ambush last night. Nowhere fatal. And if you’re running away from me maybe I’ll aim at someplace that’ll make it painful for you to sit down for a while, uh?’

She hissed a single Spanish term that had become very familiar in the immediate past. Then the fight drained out of the hapless woman as she switched her gaze between Edge and the men ambling back toward the house, the blazing dark eyes sharing an equal amount of hatred among them.

‘It seems you killed four of them, Edge,’ North announced grimly. ‘Unless some of us got lucky with all that shooting at nothing that we could see in the dark.’

Edge answered flatly: ‘Call it a draw, feller. If you want to figure it as that kind of contest.’

‘Two of the
bastardos
got away,’ Alvarez said bitterly, switching his suspicious gaze between the woman and Edge. ‘And I think it looks like you prevented somebody else from escaping, is that not so?’

Isabella vented an inarticulate protest. Then, in a shaky voice, like the tension had squeezed her dry of the ability to express the depth of emotion she felt, she blurted: ‘I am sick of all this. I have done nothing wrong, yet I am a prisoner. Whether of the law or of bandits. I wish only to be free. As I was before I spoke out against Jose Martinez.’

‘Where did you plan to run to,
senorita?’
Alvarez asked.

‘To talk with Eduardo Martinez. To tell him that I will not speak out against Jose in court!’ Now her attitude was of adamant defiance.

Rubio Rodriges gripped his blood crusted wound and winced with the pain of it as he warned the woman: ‘Do you think a man like Martinez – who thinks so little of killing decent and honest people – would trust you to keep your word if he had you in a position where he could kill you so easily?’

He let go of his wound so he was able to snap a bloodstained finger and thumb. ‘Like that!’

Alvarez gestured with his head and the scowling Isabella shuffled dejectedly into the house. The Mexicans, their elation diminishing, followed her and the lamp was lit by the time Edge and North entered. Cigars and cigarettes began to be fired up.

‘You did real well, Edge.’ North sounded exhausted.

76

Alvarez augmented: ‘
Si, si.
At first we doubted you and the sheriff. We were clearly wrong to do so. And we are indebted to both of you.’

The rest of the men nodded their agreement. But then Alvarez’s expression changed to concern.

‘But something disturbs me. How did they know to come here? Were you followed, do you think? Or you, sheriff?’

‘Not that I know of. And I guess it’d be the same for Edge?’

This drew an impassive shake of the head from the man who was rolling a cigarette one handed as he massaged his aching shoulder. ‘No one trailed North or me, feller.’

‘Who else knew you were coming here?’ Alvarez asked.

‘My regular deputy.’

‘
Senor
Ted Straker,’ Rodriges said from where he sat on a bedroll while his wound was being bathed with canteen water by Diego. ‘But he is as trustworthy as the sheriff himself. I know how highly the people of Bishopsburg think of both their lawmen, Raul.’

Edge asked with a shrug: ‘Did the two fellers who gave your message to the Carter boy happen to make any mention of this place?’

The squint eyed Alvarez looked quizzically at the young and handsome Sanchez then the tall and gaunt Zamorra. Each man shook his head emphatically and looked and sounded deeply insulted as he protested in Spanish that he was not stupid.

‘Had to be asked,’ Edge said.

The bearded man waved a dismissive hand, shrugged and said pensively: ‘Anyway, we have been here all day. So, if Martinez’s hired guns knew of this meeting place they would not have waited for you and the sheriff to come to help us protect the
senorita,
I think?’

Isabella Gomez shuddered and her heavy silver jewellery clinked at yet another reference to her mortally dangerous situation.

‘But what if . . . ‘ Alvarez began grimly and eyed North expectantly in the pause he left.

‘If what?’ the sheriff prompted.

‘What if Martinez did not learn until later of the involvement of the boy? And he sent his men to the Carter farm?’

‘I think we all know that envelopes can be easily opened with steam? So what if the father of the boy who brought my note to Bishopsburg knew of its contents?’

Everyone looked at North, who seemed about to offer a defence of the farmer, then shrugged. ‘How the hell do I know, damnit? The Carters keep themselves to themselves. 77

For sure they ain’t rolling in riches, so I guess for a little money . . . ‘ The lawman was uneasy. ‘Or maybe . . . ‘

After a few moments of silence Alvarez suggested: ‘Perhaps Martinez’s men used force rather than
dinero
to get the information they wanted? Is that what you think, sheriff?’

North sighed deeply and looked even more exhausted. ‘I just don’t see Frank Carter taking the trouble to steam open a letter. Or Vera allowing him to do it.’

He shrugged. ‘But we’ll look in on the family on the way back to town. Which ought to be soon. Reckon we all ought to get out of here. They could make another try. Just the two. Or maybe they’ll get – ‘

Alvarez nodded and said into the pause: ‘Our deal is made? The
senorita
will remain with us until she is required in court?’

Both he and North looked at the sullen woman.

Her response was soft but vehement: ‘Do I have any choice?’

North told Isabella curtly: ‘No, you don’t.’ Then, to Alvarez: ‘Sure we have a deal.’

Alvarez asked of Edge: ‘And you,
senor?
While you were on the roof, did you hear all of that was said before Rubio signalled there was trouble?’

‘I heard enough, I guess.’

‘And you agree it is a good plan?’

Edge said evenly: ‘I’m just a hired hand, feller. I’ll go along with whatever North figures is right until we get back to town. Then I’ll be out of a job.’

‘And you,
senorita?’
Alvarez asked earnestly. ‘It is the same as when we spoke with you and these
gentilhombres
last night. Invited you to come with us. It will be much easier for you and us if you co-operate than if you do not.’

She pouted. ‘I promise I will not attempt to fight you. But I will not promise not to try to escape if I have the chance.’

‘You are not a prisoner,
Senorita
Gomez. So escape is not the correct word.’

She pulled a face as she repeated her assertion. ‘I will not promise not to try to
escape
from you if I get an opportunity.’

‘
Bueno!’
Alvarez ignored her heavy emphasis on the word to which he objected and showed something close to a smile. ‘So now we all know where we stand. Rubio. . ?’

‘I will bring the horses of
Senor
Edge and
Senor
North.’ The wounded man struggled to his feet with a grimace. ‘Not mine. For I will ride later to Bishopsburg on my own. It will be better if it is not known to anybody that I am working for the sheriff, I think?’

78

North asked: ‘You reckon Rex Whitman will still give you a job, gunshot the way you are?’

The man with the blood stained shirt replaced his look of pain with a confident grin.

‘He will not know,
senor.
If he sees me in pain I will pretend only stiffness from the hard work I do for him. I will, of course, change my shirt before I get to the livery stable of
Senor
Whitman.’

Alvarez laughed shortly, signalled for Rodriges to go to the barn and a few minutes later two saddled horses were outside. Everyone left the house and Edge and North swung up astride their mounts.

‘So we must part yet again,’ Isabella scoffed, glaring scornfully at North.

‘Just like last night,’ North reminded, matching her tone and expression. ‘When you figured that the more men to protect you the better.’

She grimaced at him, then displayed the age old smile of a woman for a man she perhaps only pretends to admire as she switched her attention to Edge and said: ‘Now I am not so sure of this. If it had not been for just one man tonight, I think it possible all of the rest would have been unable to protect me from harm.’

Edge remained impassive as he and North tugged on their reins to turn their horses away from the house.