J. Edson - Ranch War

“It appears that your amigo Spatz failed to do what he promised and was paid well for,” the Mexican said dryly.

“Yeah!” Hogue answered. “And the lard-gutted son-of-a-bitch never even telegraphed to let us know they’d got by his men.” Turning his gaze back to the two riders crossing the ford, each leading three horses, he reached for his rifle. “Looks like we’ll have to tend to their needings ourselves.”

Deciding that repeating the reminder that it had been Hogue’s idea to hire Spatz would get them nowhere, Ruiz scowled at the way station. Clearly the attempt had been a failure, which was very annoying. All the previous afternoon they had watched their back trail without seeing a sign of their pursuers. Despite Hogue’s belief that all had gone as planned, Ruiz had insisted on finding a high point when the sun went down. From it they had scoured the land behind them, searching for a sight of a camp-fire to tell them that the girl and her companion were still following on their trail. They had seen nothing and continued their journey to the Platte satisfied that the pursuit had been halted. Not only had they been wrong, but their pursuers had closed the gap between them during the day. Not surprising, considering that the Canary girl and the Texan could alternate between reserve horses, while the two men had but one animal apiece.

Becoming aware of Hogue’s actions, Ruiz inquired, “Do you think it’s wise, amigo ?”

“Huh?” the burly man grunted, pausing with the Winchester halfway to his shoulder. “What d’you mean?”

“Is shooting them down here any answer?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Silvers is not one of The Outfit. If murder is done at his place, he will inform the law,” Ruiz explained. “There are peace officers in Lexington to the west and Kearney to the east.”

“Only we ain’t going to either place,” Hogue pointed out, feeling annoyed as always when the Mexican showed signs of smart thinking.

“No. We are going to Hollick City, which also has a telegraph office and sheriff,” Ruiz answered. “A sheriff who knows us and would recognize our descriptions, amigo. ”

“Day Leckenby don’t worry me none!” Hogue blustered, but did not complete the raising of the rifle. “He could make fuss for the boss, though.”

“ Si, ” Ruiz agreed. “Needless fuss, when there is a better way.”

“Such as?”

“Such as riding on——”

“You’re figuring on making a run for Hollick City?” Hogue snorted. “It’s still a good day’s ride and these hosses ain’t getting any fresher, way we’ve been pushing ’em. Comes another point, I don’t cotton to the notion of going back there and telling the boss that the Canary gal’s trailing along with a Texas gun-slick.”

“He’s not Cabrito, ” Ruiz said. “I thought that he was, back in Mulrooney, but not any more.”

“Whether he’s the Ysabel Kid or not don’t make too much difference,” Hogue stated. “If he bust by Spatz’s bunch, he’s good with a gun.”

“But he is not Cabrito, amigo. Which means that we can carry out my plan.”

“I ain’t heard no plan yet,” Hogue growled, watching the riders halt at the hitching rail where their own mounts had been standing while they went into the main building for a meal. “The boss ain’t going to like it one lil bit if we get back with that redheaded calico-cat still living.”

From the expression on Ruiz’s face, he was for once in complete agreement with his companion. They both knew that their efforts in Mulrooney had not been entirely crowned with success. Especially when they considered how much money their employer must have spent in obtaining the specialized services of The Outfit.

The partial failure was Hogue’s and Ruiz’s fault, for The Outfit had done their part. It had been understood from the start that, with the delicate nature of the political situation at the State capitol, The Outfit could not arrange for Martha Jane Canary’s death in Topeka. Instead it had been fixed so that she should be sent to meet an honest lawyer, unconnected with the organization, in Mulrooney and placed in a hotel where the two men could find her.

Except for one slight snag, everything had gone according to plan. Not being sure what the girl looked like, and wishing to avoid mistakes, Smith had been sent by his superior to watch the railroad depot. For some reason, he had failed to see her leave the train. So they had not been aware of the nature of their intended victim. Waiting until after midnight, Smith had escorted Hogue and Ruiz to the Railroad House Hotel. They had discovered which room she occupied by reading the register on the unattended desk.

Hogue’s mistrust of Mexicans had caused them to disagree on the best way to handle the situation. So they had decided that Ruiz should try to gain access via the door, using a trick he had learned as a boy, while Hogue attempted to enter through the bedroom window. Once inside, they were to kill the girl and carry off every document that might prove her identity. After producing a ladder for Hogue and pointing out the window of Room Fourteen, Smith had left them to do their work.

The attempt had turned into a miserable fiasco. However, Smith’s superior had suggested a way by which they might still be able to carry out the orders. They could stop her reaching Counselor Talbot’s office later that morning. To avoid mistakes, Smith had arranged for the hotel’s desk clerk to direct the girl by a specific route to the lawyer’s office. The man had remained opposite the hotel and the clerk had signaled when the correct female left.

Although the Texan’s intervention had prevented them from doing more than steal the girl’s documents, The Outfit’s senior representative had insisted that the two men left Mulrooney without delay. He had promised that he would telegraph warning of any pursuit to Spatz’s way station. Knowing the penalty for disobeying The Outfit, Hogue and Ruiz had not argued. They felt that they had carried out their orders adequately, if not entirely. If Talbot followed Lawyer Endicott’s instructions, he would only tell the girl about the Rafter C when satisfied that she had the right to know about it. Somehow she had convinced the Mulrooney lawyer that she was Martha Jane Canary, and followed them accompanied by a man. Most likely he was the same fast-moving Texan who had saved her life.

It had been Hogue’s suggestion that they hire Spatz’s men to prevent the following pair from continuing the journey. Although harboring suspicions about the identity of the Texan, Ruiz had not argued the point. Now that the attempt had failed, the Mexican felt it was time that he take control of the situation.

“We’ll stop them,” Ruiz stated. “Not here and now, but on the trail.”

“You mean lay for ’em and down ’em as they ride by?”

“That would be chancy, they might escape. I think it is better that we wait until tonight. Then we’ll take them while they sleep.”

“Great!” Hogue sniffed, returning his rifle to its boot. “How do we find ’em when they’ve bedded down?”

The girl and her companion had disappeared into the way station’s main building, so the two men turned their horses.

“That will take some thought,” Ruiz admitted as they set the animals moving. “But it should not be beyond the ability of intelligent men like us. Let us figure that they will not be less than ninety minutes, or more than two-and-a-half hours behind us when they leave Silvers’. Then, toward sundown, we will look for places where riders about that far behind would make camp. After that, we find a high place close at hand and watch for them to come.”

“Like we done last night?” Hogue said coldly.