Ralph Compton - Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

“Nobody said you got to face him,” Sheriff Duro said. “Hell, there ain’t nothin’ honorable about bushwhacking a man. Shoot him in the back.”

“I’ve seen some dirty, stinking, low-down coyotes in my day,” said one of the men, “but this is the first time I’ve seen a lawman pay to have a man dry gulched.”

“This is a wide-open town,” Sheriff Duro said, “and things are done different here. If it wasn’t for me and certain others, the whole damn lot of you would be rotting behind bars somewhere. If this Daniel Strange is allowed to ride out of here, he’s likely to go to the nearest ranger outpost and tell them he gunned down Kalpana. Rangers have a way of figurin’ things out. They’re likely to wonder how long Kalpana was here, without the law layin’ a hand on him, and how many more there may be just like him.”

“I reckon that makes sense,” said one of the gunmen. “We got to stop the varmint.”

There was mostly agreement among the rest of the outlaws, except for Malo and Dirk.

“Duro,” said Dirk, “you’d better be right. If I end up with my neck in a noose, I aim to see that you’re hanging beside me from the same damn limb.”

“Damn right,” Malo said. “You ain’t pullin’ the trigger, but you’re as much a killer as any one of us.”

Sheriff Duro swallowed hard. If the worst happened, and Daniel Strange escaped, the town might be invaded by a company of Texas Rangers. Simon McCandless had wisely used Duro to arrange the killing of Daniel Strange, and would in no way be implicated, unless Sheriff Duro talked. He quickly reached the unhappy conclusion that even if he talked, he would still be neck-deep in trouble. There was no way he could accuse McCandless of anything without admitting that he, Duro, had arranged it.

Chapter 18

Brownsville, Texas. December 21, 1870.

Danielle lay down across the bed to rest, and the longer she lay there, the more she was sure that Kalpana had been brought back across the border to kill her. His having failed in no way lessened her danger, and she sat up, tugging on her boots. She would leave Brownsville tonight, taking word of the situation there to the Texas Rangers in San Antonio. But she had waited too long. There was a knock on her door, and answering it, she looked into the frightened face of Ethel Delaney.

“Daniel, there’s a group of horsemen across the street, watching the house. Ephiram believes they’ve come after you.”

“I reckon he’s right,” said Danielle.“I should already have ridden out. Now I’ll have to face up to them.”

“But they’re here to kill you,” Ethel protested. “You can’t go out there.”

“I can, and I will,’ said Danielle. “They haven’t yet surrounded the house, but there may be men watching the back door. Is there a way out, without going through the front or back doors?”

“Through the cellar,” Ethel said. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Carrying a lighted coal oil lamp, Ethel Delaney led the way down the stairs from the kitchen to the cellar below. The door was barred from the inside, and Ethel lifted the bar.

“As soon as I’m out,” said Danielle, “put that bar back in place.”

“Go with God,” Ethel said through her sobs.

Danielle stepped out into the night. There was no moon, and she could hear the mutter of voices across the street. Finally, there came a challenge.

“We want Daniel Strange,” a voice shouted. “If we have to come in and get him, you Delaneys are gonna be sorry.”

“He’s been expecting you,” Ephiram said, “and he ain’t here.”

“Duke,” said the voice across the street, “look in the stable behind the house and see if his horse is gone.”

Duke made his way around the house, his Colt drawn. Danielle stepped out of the darkness behind him, slamming the muzzle of her Colt against the back of his head. Without a sound, he collapsed. Taking his revolver, Danielle slipped it under her waistband, then waited. Her next move would depend on the men hunting her.

“Damn it, Duke,” a voice shouted impatiently, “what’s keepin’ you?”

Only silence greeted him, and Danielle could hear angry voices. Obviously, the men were deciding what they should do next, and the gruff voice that had spoken before again threatened the Delaneys.

“You Delaneys, we’re goin’ to surround the house. You got ten minutes to get Daniel Strange out here. If you don’t, we’ll set the place afire and drive him out.”

There was no reply from either of the Delaneys, and Danielle knew she couldn’t allow them to suffer for her deeds. She moved away from the house into the shadow of a huge oak tree. Finding a stone the size of her fist, she waited until two of the men began to make their way along her side of the house. Once they were past her, she threw the stone against the side of the house. The two men whirled, firing at the sound. Danielle fired at their muzzle flashes, and they fell, groaning.

“The bastard ain’t in the house!” a voice shouted. “He’s shot Turk and Bender.”

Danielle heard the sound of running feet and stepped back into the shadow of the oak. Her trick had worked once, but it would not a second time. There would be too many of them, and before she could cut them all down, some of them would be shooting at her muzzle flashes. Six men crept through the shadows alongside the house.

“Damn it,” said one of them, “here’s Duke, and he’s out colder than a bullfrog.”

One of the pair Danielle had shot groaned, drawing their attention.

“A couple of you help Turk and Bender back to the horses,” a voice commanded.

“Bender’s dead, and Turk’s hard hit,” said another voice.

“Then take their carcasses away, and then get the hell back over here.”

Danielle waited until the two fallen men had been removed. She then stood behind the huge trunk of the oak and issued a challenge of her own.

“You’re covered. Drop your guns.”

The four drew and began firing. Lead slammed into the oak. Danielle, leaning to one side, fired around the trunk at the muzzle flashes. She then hit the ground, rolling into a new position, belly-down.

“Oh, God,” a voice moaned, “I’m gut-shot!” Two of the men were down, and the other two stood there, waiting. They well knew their muzzle flashes could be their undoing. Slowly, they began to back away toward the front of the house, and Danielle let them go. When they reached the far side of the street, an argument ensued, and Danielle was sure she recognized the gruff voice of Sheriff Sam Duro.

“Sheriff,” Danielle taunted, “you’re done. The rest of you men, if you come after me, be prepared to die.”

“Come on, damn it,” Duro bawled to the rest of the men, “we’re goin’ after him.”

But only two of the men followed. Dirk and Malo mounted their horses. They left town, riding north. Two other men watched them uncertainly. Then, mounting their horses, they followed Dirk and Malo. As Sheriff Duro and his two companions crept alongside the house, there was a shadow directly ahead of them. The unconscious Duke had staggered to his feet, only to have Sheriff Sam Duro cut him down at close range. It was all Danielle needed. She fired at the muzzle flash, and the force of the slug slammed Duro against the side of the house. He slumped to the ground, and the two men who had accompanied him ran back the way they had come. Seconds later, there was the thud of hooves as the survivors of the ill-fated ambush galloped away. Danielle walked around the house, mounted the porch, and knocked on the door. Ethel Delaney opened it.

“Is it over?” Ethel asked fearfully.

“Not quite,” said Danielle. “I want to get my saddlebags, and then I want to talk to Ephiram.”