R. Trembly - Madigan

In silence, the men formed a long skirmish line in the dark. LaRue rode several yards in front with his friend Shorty beside him.

Shorty was the only man other than LaRue that was not an out-and-out cutthroat. He’d been a teacher in a boys’ school back East. He was of mild yet firm manners, and came West to get a little excitement, he said.

One would think Shorty would be timid at the sight of a gun, since he had never fired one before coming out West. Nothing could be further from the truth, for Shorty took to firearms like a duck takes to water. And he was more than just a good shot. His speed and shooting was held in awe even by the most accomplished gunslinger. Even the late Marty Manning was afraid to upset him.

Marty once told LaRue of having seen a top gunslinger tease Shorty until all the men in the bar were in hysterics. Then after Shorty called him a bastard, which he probably was, the gunslinger told him to draw, at the same time going for his own gun. Shorty drew and fired twice before the man cleared leather. Each shot hit true, and the man slumped to the floor dead before he knew what hit him.

When asked how he became so proficient with a gun, Shorty would answer, “As near as I can figure, it was a quirk of nature, as I never practiced even once.” LaRue was glad this little, mild-mannered schoolteacher was indeed his friend.

Ahead lay the dark outline of the Rockies with Poncha Pass somewhere to the south. LaRue was familiar with the area and figured that the stranger ahead would undoubtedly head for the Poncha.

It was from the head of the trail leading to the pass that LaRue would send two of his men with extra horses to run the stranger down. Already the stranger had cost LaRue and his bunch dearly, both in time and men. But LaRue still hoped he would get away.

The air was cool as they rode through the night, each man lost in his own thoughts. LaRue’s mind drifted back once again to the past. Many months had come and gone since the Indians saved his life. After regaining his strength he had made his way south to Sonora and enlisted the help of every cutthroat and saddle tramp he could find, amongst them Marty, whom he had known before. At least now LaRue was rid of him and his problems.

“Why are we chasing this man?” Shorty asked. The question took LaRue by surprise.

“He killed Gonzales. Why else would we track a man halfway across hell’s half acre?”

“Seems to me that losing two more men to a man that Gonzales would have killed, if he hadn’t been killed first, is a bit much to pay, isn’t it?”

“You and I know that, but the others live by the emotion of the moment, not by logic or common sense. As long as we’re going in the same direction as the man we’re after, I’ll let them have their vengeance.”

“Still doesn’t make much sense to me. Could get more of us killed and for what? Would have done the same thing myself if Gonzales was sneaking up on me like that!”

Pete LaRue turned in his saddle. “Shorty, you and me, we both know that it was self-defense on the stranger’s part. But those men out there don’t think like you and me. They like killin’ and stealin’. It’s a way of life to them. Hell, none of them can even write, let alone read. They live their lives from one miserable day to the next. Most are cowards hiding behind their guns. That’s why they’re afraid of us. We’re faster than them and they know it. And we are their only hope at the moment to get something out of life other than a bullet someday.”

“I see what you mean. How do you think they will be once we find the treasure?”

Pete smiled at his friend. “I wouldn’t turn my back on any of them.”

First light found the men at the trailhead to Poncha Pass. The two best riders were making ready for the ride ahead. The rest of the men were looking for sign. There was a coolness in the air promising the threat of snow at the higher elevations.

“Not a thing to show anybody even came this way at all,” one of the men said as he scanned the vast plains they had just come across. Don’t suppose he just laid up last night and let us go on by in the dark, do you?”

“Not much chance of that. He’d be taking too big a chance that we might come up on him without him seeing us. No, he’s gone on up the pass somewhere. There was a stiff wind last night that covered his tracks, that’s all.”

“What makes you so sure he didn’t take one of these other trails?”

“Because the boss knows this part of the country and he says the man went this way!” Shorty said with a warning to his voice. “Anybody want to argue about it can step right up and start in. But they’ll have to do it with me and I’m cranky from lack of sleep right now!”

“No harm meant, Shorty. We was just askin’, that’s all.”

Shorty turned so that only LaRue could see his face and winked. Soon the two men were ready to ride.

“Leave most of your stuff with us so you’ll be as light as possible. Take only one rifle in case you can get a clear shot at him, but shoot only if you’re sure you can hit him the first time. Otherwise you’ll give yourselves away and he can take cover and pick you off before you can get close.

“If you don’t have any questions then, get crackin’! We’ll wait a while so as not to stir up any more dust than we have to. Good luck, men.” LaRue waved them on and within a few minutes they were out of sight. As LaRue watched them ride away, a strange sadness welled up inside him. Not for them, but for the man they were going to kill.

An hour after the two riders left on their hunt for the stranger, Pete LaRue moved the rest of the men ahead. It would be hours before the men could even hope to catch up and surprise the lone man with the big rifle.

The trail took an even climb through some of the most beautiful country LaRue had been through in a long time. The rest of the men were strung out behind him, as the path would only allow one rider at a time along most of its narrow ledge. From time to time the men could get a look at the valley below them from which they came. It was good that he’d moved the men at a slow walk across the plain below so as to raise some dust. He hoped it would afford the stranger a warning that they were coming.

In his heart Pete LaRue wished to be done with this whole affair, the gold included. It’d taken him weeks to round up enough men to get the job done that he had in mind. Now after weeks of being away, it all seemed like a bad dream from the distant past.

As Pete rode along he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Maybe the little gold figurine was the only one of its kind and there was no other Aztec gold to be found. Too late now, he thought. He had cast his destiny and entrusted his future to the low-life that was trailing along with him.

Even if there is gold and they find it, it would not be an easy task to keep it out of the hands of the men. Men like these would not be content for only a share, no matter how large it might be. These are greedy men of no proper upbringing, and honor of one’s word means nothing to them.

At the next widening of the trail, Shorty rode up beside Pete. “From that look on your face I’d say you were thinking mighty hard about something. Anything you can talk about?”

“Just thinking,” LaRue started, “just thinking that if I had it to do over again I would have kept the figurine and been satisfied.”

“I was wondering if that might be it. You don’t have to worry about me. Find gold or not, I have what I want, freedom to go where I please, when I please.” Shorty lowered his voice so as not be overheard by the others. “Another thing that you should know. When and if the time comes that you need someone to stand beside you against these fellows back here, I’ll be there. You can count on it!”